Gentleman Never Tells (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  But there was nothing. No letter. No Benjamin.

  She was trying to be better about assimilating herself into family activities. For the first week Benjamin was gone, she faked illness and stayed abed. But she didn’t care to follow the same route her mother had taken, and besides, it wasn’t as if Benjamin was dead. He was alive, and hopefully well, in London.

  London. There was nothing that said she couldn’t go to London and find him, was there?

  She looked across the room at Kat, who lounged like Botticelli’s Venus, draped over one end of a chaise, a gothic novel lying open in her lap. Her black hair was only partially pulled up, so most of it fell over her shoulder. She played with a loose lock as she mumbled the words she read to herself.

  Phoebe’s gaze moved across the room to Becky, also engrossed in a book, but certainly not a gothic novel by the looks of it. In her newfound free time, Becky had taken to bettering herself, and it seemed that today’s lesson was in frog anatomy.

  As grateful as she was for the company of her friends, Phoebe missed her husband more than words could ever express. She needed to find him, and forgive him—and beg his forgiveness as well—and that meant going to London.

  She stood from her chair, and both women looked up at her.

  “Going somewhere?” Kat asked curiously.

  “Yes, actually,” she replied. “I’m going to London.”

  “London!” Kat sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “But you can’t go alone. Becky and I will come with you. When do we leave?”

  Blast it! She should have known Kat would want to come.

  “Kat, it isn’t necessary that you accompany me. Becky and I can manage fine on our own until we find— join Benjamin.”

  “No, no, no! The two of you are not leaving me here to while away the hours alone. I’m coming.” Kat’s dark eyes burned with determination.

  Phoebe blew out a long breath, knowing she would never win this argument with her sister-in-law. Kat would find a way to go to London with them if it was the last thing she did. At least it would be an entertaining trip.

  “Fine,” she said. “We will leave after breakfast tomorrow, so we are sure to make London by nightfall.”

  “Excellent!” Kat sprung from the chaise and started for the door. “I’ll send a letter ahead to Benjamin to let him know we’re coming.”

  “No!”

  Kat halted and turned to stare at her, Becky watched from the other side of the room; both were clearly wondering why they couldn’t send word ahead. Heavens, this was not how she wanted it to be. She wanted to go to Benjamin, find him on her own and . . .

  She suppressed a groan. Now it was to be a spectacle, with family. And Lord only knew, despite their state of mourning, what would be on her social calendar by the time they arrived.

  No, she couldn’t have it that way. Kat was going to kill her for what she was about to do, but it was the only option. “I will send notice, Kat,” she said with a serene smile. “You go on and tell Sally to start preparing your things.”

  Kat shrugged and thankfully didn’t question her further. “All right,” she replied, and then bounced out of the room.

  As soon as Kat was a fair enough distance away, Phoebe shut the door to the parlor and practically ran to Becky’s side. She slammed the large tome about amphibious creatures shut and leveled Becky with what she was sure was a wild stare.

  Becky blinked back at her. “What are you doing?”

  “We are leaving. Now.”

  “Now?” Becky practically yelled.

  “Shhh!” Phoebe felt like a player in a farce all of a sudden as she flailed her arms about dramatically. But they had to get out of there before Katherine had a chance to realize they were gone. “Becky, please. I need to find Ben—”

  “You don’t know where he is?” Becky stared at her; concern turned her shocked expression to a frown.

  Phoebe shook her head slowly and tried to keep the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes at bay. “He left me, Becky,” she admitted, feeling her burden lift slightly, but not completely, at finally telling another soul what had happened.

  “No,” Becky returned. “How can that be? You said you knew he was leaving for London. You’ve been getting letters from him and . . . Oh, dear. You made it all up, didn’t you?”

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone, Becky. Please. Just help me find him so I can sort out this whole, ridiculous mess.”

  “All right. But how are we going to get out of here unnoticed?”

  As it happened, dinnertime proved to be the best time to sneak out of a house unnoticed. It took a great deal of planning to orchestrate such a feat in such a short amount of time, but they somehow managed. It was easy enough to convince everyone she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to eat in her room. And even easier to bribe a stable groom into preparing a lesser-used coach and driving them to London.

  Each armed with a small satchel and the clothes on their back, Phoebe and Becky snuck from the house and met the coach at the end of the drive, where no one would hear the clip-clop of the hooves on the gravel.

  Phoebe was positive, however, that as soon as Kat realized they were gone, her rage would be heard all the way to the Capitol.

  ***

  It was the middle of the night by the time Phoebe and Becky made it to Blakeny House. Phoebe had decided to go there since she had no idea where to find her husband and because it was far too late to start her investigation.

  It was odd being back in that house. It seemed years rather than mere weeks since she’d slept in her own bed, sat in her own shabby parlor. She didn’t miss it, that was for certain. The smell of mold and dust alone was enough to make her exceedingly grateful for her new station in life. But she was glad it was there, for without it, she would not have been able to come to London to chase after her husband.

  After a good night’s sleep, Phoebe was up early, excited for the day. Excited to find Benjamin.

  She sent Becky to the market first thing to purchase a few items for their breakfast and then tried her best to dress herself. As she put the finishing touches on her simple coiffure, she heard the latch turn on the front door.

  “Becky, is that you? I could use your help with a few of the buttons I couldn’t reach.”

  There was no answer, and the hair on the back of Phoebe’s neck stood involuntarily on end. On tentative feet, she left her small chamber and made her way down the hall to the top of the staircase. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was not an intruder, but a friend. Standing in the foyer was not an unwelcome guest per se, but Phoebe wasn’t really in the mood to receive guests, so she hoped Colonel Wallace would be quick about his business there.

  ***

  Benjamin took to the streets again that morning for a long walk. It had become his ritual since returning to London, and he found the exercise helped clear his head and lift his spirits. At least as much as they could be lifted under the circumstances.

  He had come to London with the intent to merely get away for a few days. To give himself and Phoebe both some time to think, room to forgive. Every night before he went to bed, he made up his mind to go back to Ravenscroft Castle the next day. And every morning, he awoke with the terror and suspicion that she would never forgive him. That he would only go back to find her with that same disappointed frown on her face. That was something he could not bear.

  So now, three weeks to the day after he had left for London, he was still here, trying to figure out what to do about his marriage. What to do about his life.

  Other things were more easily taken care of. Like the transfer of the deed to his New York townhouse to an old friend who wished to own property in America. And the final notice of eviction he sent to Lillian.

  He wasn’t a mean or cold person, and he didn’t think it would be fair to simply evict her without a bit of explanation. So, he told her briefly of his marriage and of the sale of the townhouse, and that under no circumstances was she ever to try to c
ontact him again. That was a headache he could live without.

  It was a lovely day, and despite the early hour, the streets were already beginning to crowd. Benjamin didn’t mind, though. At least in a crowd of people it was easier to pretend he wasn’t so very alone.

  His stomach rumbled as he passed through the fresh market and the smell of fresh-baked bread made it to his nose. He was just about to stop and purchase a small loaf to abate his hunger when he saw a familiar head of blond hair bobbing out into the street.

  Becky. What was she doing here? Surely she hadn’t come back to London alone. Was it possible that Phoebe had come to find him?

  It seemed a bit too much to hope for, and he supposed there were a hundred maids with that same color hair, but . . .

  He would never know unless he ran after her.

  His hunger and bread forgotten, Benjamin took off in the direction of the maid. Carts and carriages and mongers of all sorts presented obstacles, but it was easy to keep sight of her golden hair. Thank heaven he was tall enough to see over most people’s heads. It wasn’t until they were almost at Berkeley Square that he finally caught up to her. Good God, the girl kept quite a pace.

  “Becky!” he called out when he was close enough to be heard.

  He waited for her to turn and heaved a sigh of relief when she did. It was indeed she. Thank God!

  “Lord Eastleigh!” she cried, a bright smile coming to her face. “How fortuitous to have met you like this.”

  He drew closer, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m not sure it was necessarily fortuitous since I had to chase you down from several blocks away, but, indeed, I am very glad I did.” He stared at the smiling girl, afraid to ask the question that hung between them, but he finally dredged up the courage. “Did she come with you?”

  Becky’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight, bright emerald green, as she nodded her head. “She came to find you, my lord, but I must say, this is far better than a wild goose chase throughout the city.”

  “I do believe I’m the gander, Becky, but I won’t quibble with you over the technicalities. Take me to my wife.”

  Chapter 18

  “Forgive me, Colonel Wallace, I wasn’t expecting you,” Phoebe said as she descended the stairs.

  The colonel turned to look at her. His eyes squinted against the sun that flowed in from the fanlight. He wasn’t a horrible looking man, but clearly hygiene was not high on his list of priorities. He smelled strongly of tobacco and spirits, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning. But there was a kindness in his eyes, a softness about his features.

  “No, no, it is I you must forgive, Miss Blake, barging in like this. I was passing by when I saw your lovely maid leaving and ascertained that you must be back in Town.”

  “Oh, Colonel, you must not have heard. I was married only a few weeks ago, and I am afraid I am no longer a Blake, or a miss, for that matter.”

  The man’s jowls shook as he tipped his head to her. “My sincerest felicitations for a happy marriage then, Lady . . . well, it must be Eastleigh now, is it not?”

  Phoebe nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “It is.”

  “Right, well, my condolences as well then.”

  There was an awkward pause, and Phoebe had the distinct feeling the man wished to be invited in for a more proper visit. She hated to be rude, and it wasn’t as if she could go anywhere until Becky returned anyhow. There was the matter of her half undone buttons, but other than that, she didn’t see any harm in giving the man a few minutes of her time.

  “I don’t have any refreshments to offer, Colonel, but if you would like to come to the parlor, we can certainly have a chat. You can tell me all about your wife’s prize rose garden you’re so fond of.”

  His beady eyes lit up and he smiled down at her. “Well, that’s very kind of you, Lady Eastleigh. I’ve been on my feet since early this morning, so a brief rest would be welcome. The delight of your company is a boon I was not quite expecting.”

  Phoebe smiled back and then led the way to the parlor. She let the colonel sit on the sofa, which was even dustier now after weeks of neglect, while she sat on the small spindly chair. There was a moment of awkward silence. Without the distraction of tea service, there was nothing to do with her hands, other than fidget with the fabric of her pale blue day dress. She smiled at the colonel; he smiled back. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, just as he opened his.

  “What brought you back to London?” he asked as she was saying, “I trust your wife is well.”

  They both laughed, and Phoebe gestured for him to go first.

  “I wondered what brought you back to London and, more specifically, to this house. I would think your new husband would have better accommodations for you here.”

  “Um, yes, of course,” she laughed, brushing off his comment as if there was a completely viable explanation. However, there wasn’t. At least, not one she could share with him. Think, Phoebe, think! “I…I came to prepare the house.”

  “Prepare?”

  “Yes! You see, the house is not entailed and, therefore, since it is no longer needed, we will sell it.” Phoebe kept the sigh of relief as internal as she could at her quick thinking. She had no idea, though, if they would be selling the house or not. Perhaps her mother wished to return to it, but the thought of her here, all alone, didn’t sit well with Phoebe.

  “I see,” he said, then added, “And, yes, my wife is—ahem . . . well, thank you.”

  All of a sudden, the man dissolved into a fit of coughing. He doubled over, trying to clear his lungs of a distinct rattle. Phoebe watched for only a moment before leaping from her chair and rushing to his side. She sat down beside him, and the girth of his weight caused her to sink towards him, until she was pressed up against his side. She reached an awkward arm around to pat his back, but before she made it that far, the colonel ceased his coughing and grabbed her wrist.

  Phoebe blinked up at him, surprised at the firm grip and the menacing look that lit his eyes now. Her heart raced at the realization that his coughing fit had been a ploy. A ploy to get her closer to him, though she couldn’t begin to understand why. He had never shown any hostility toward her in the past—as a matter of fact, he had always seemed kind and caring—yet now he looked positively murderous.

  “C-colonel, what are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound indignant, but knowing her voice shook with fear.

  “I’m collecting payment due, my lady.” His tone was low, and he spoke so close to her face, she could smell the rotting of his teeth. She was tempted to swoon from the smell, but Lord knew what he would do to her once she was unconscious.

  So she collected herself and tried to pull away from him. He only held tighter, though, as he came up to his knees on the sofa beside her and grabbed her other wrist. Now he towered above her, fat and salivating—a hideous creature Phoebe did not even know. How could it be that the man who so lovingly spoke of his wife’s roses was now staring at her with all the evil of Satan himself?

  But through the haze of her fear, it triggered what he’d just said. “Payment?” She looked up at him, hoping the terror she felt in her heart didn’t show on her face.

  “Oh, so he didn’t tell you after all, I see. They’ve kept you in the dark, to preserve your sweet innocence, I presume.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your mother wasn’t finished repaying me,” he said, showering her with spittle on almost every consonant.

  “Colonel Wallace, I am sure that whatever is owed to you we can now pay. Money is no object. Please, let me go.”

  A maniacal smile came to his lips. “I do like it when you beg, Lady Eastleigh.”

  Phoebe’s stomach turned. And her mind spun with the effort of trying to put it all together. Payment. Payment for what? And who had kept her in the dark about it? Surely not her mother, who had been lying comatose in her bed for a year? What could she possibly have known about this?

  If Becky knew anything, she never would ha
ve let the man into the house, so Phoebe mentally marked her from the list.

  That left only one person. And added yet one more lie to his catalog.

  The twisting in her heart at this horrendous thought hurt far more than the firm hold Wallace had on her wrists. It made her want to give up, to let him do what he wanted. Take his payment, whatever that may be. For what did any of it matter now?

  Not only had Benjamin lied to her about Lillian, her father and now even this bizarre situation with the colonel, but he had left her. He had left without a word, without an apology of any sort. And he’d left her to fend for herself with his family, and with Wallace.

  It was almost more than she could bear. No, she was stronger than that. She could bear it, but she didn’t want to.

  And so she surrendered. Her body went limp as the tears began to flow. She closed her eyes tight as Wallace pinned her arms together over her head, and waited for him to do his worst.

  ***

  Benjamin walked through the front door of Blakeny House, excited to find his wife and begin the healing process in their relationship. But instead of finding Phoebe at the door, he was greeted with whimpering and sounds of struggle.

  It was a cold feeling that passed over him, leaving his hands numb and his heart pumping with fury and fear. He and Becky exchanged panicked looks, and then they both darted down the hall toward the parlor.

  The door was wide open, and Benjamin’s gut turned as he was faced with his most horrific fear. Wallace had his wife—his wife!—pinned to the couch, his face a mere inch from Phoebe’s. Her eyes were shut tight, and he could see the tears glistening on her cheeks. Benjamin didn’t hesitate before launching himself at the fat bastard attacking his wife. The man hadn’t heard them come in, so Benjamin took him by surprise when he delivered an upper cut to his jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor beside the sofa.