by Cheryl Holt
“Oh, please.” Benjamin rolled his eyes. “You act as if you are the person who lost the earldom.”
“Aren’t I?”
“For most of my life, I was in line to be Lyndon. I’ve had the title snatched away from me twice, but you don’t hear me whining and complaining.”
“You should be,” she seethed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’ve told you a thousand times it didn’t matter to me. I was happy to let Caleb have it years ago, and I’m happy to let him have it now.”
They were in his town house, in his library. He was seated at the desk, and she was seated across, but the arrangement seemed odd. In so many of his dealings with her, she had sat behind the desk. She’d scolded and given orders and provided advice.
Looking back though, her counsel had rarely been valid or useful. She was silly and ineffectual, confused by the world and her place in it. She was widow to a man whose brother had been earl, and because of it she’d put on airs and presumed greatness would pass in her direction. It hadn’t, and with Caleb back, it never would but she couldn’t face that reality.
They’d endured several weeks of hectic events. Caleb had been rescued, and he and Soloman were at Lyndon Hall getting the house opened and ready for them to move in and reside there.
Benjamin had had lengthy meetings with lawyers about the title, about the legal wrangling regarding Caleb, about the estate finances and how all of it could be unraveled in the least complex way.
They were still debating the appropriate endings for Lydia Boswell and Peggy Jones. Lydia was guilty of an appalling crime, and Peggy was complicit but Peggy had exposed their misdeed. Didn’t she deserve some mercy because of it?
What about Lydia? She was mad as a hatter. Was it morally just to hang a woman who should probably be locked away in Bedlam Hospital?
Soloman and Theo would remain in England rather than sail for Egypt. They would marry at Lyndon Hall, would parent Caleb to his adulthood, so suddenly there was a wedding to plan.
On top of it all, the entire kingdom was agog over Caleb’s return which was the main reason Soloman had fled to Lyndon Hall with him. They couldn’t ride down the street without being mobbed.
But family affairs had calmed to the point where Benjamin could fuss with his own issues. He was eager to have a discussion with his mother that was long overdue.
“I’m weary of quarreling with you, Mother,” he told her.
“I’m weary of it too.”
“It’s futile as well. You never listen.”
“If you behave like a lunatic,” she said, “you can’t expect me to be silent.”
“Will you ever accept Caleb? Will you ever accept that he’s my cousin and your nephew? Or will you persist with insisting he’s an imposter?”
He assumed he knew the answer, and she instantly proved him right.
“I will never accept that boy. When I recall how that strumpet brought him into our lives, I can’t help but be incensed. You might have permitted that pretty charlatan to fool you, but she will never fool me.”
Benjamin took a deep breath and let it out. He took another and let it out too.
He couldn’t bear to have his mother mention Annabel. He hadn’t seen her since that night at the ball where she’d shown up dressed like a princess.
Like the coward he apparently was, he’d simply sent a messenger with a note, apprising her that Caleb was safe and staying with his legal guardian. It had been a cold and dispassionate letter, but he’d been perplexed over how to interact with her.
He’d been desperate to visit her, desperate to tell her about that horrid afternoon in the country where her sister had been so crazed and poor Mr. Boswell so heartbroken.
He’d been desperate to tell her how afraid he’d been for Caleb, how terrified they would arrive at the harbor only to learn that he was gone, but if he’d spoken to her in person he’d have wound up begging her to reconsider their amour but she never would. Why meet with her?
She and her brother were a bone of contention that was vexing Soloman. Caleb asked about Annabel and Michael every day. He wanted them with him at Lyndon Hall, but there were so many problems with that idea that Soloman couldn’t figure out how to address them.
With Lydia’s perfidy exposed, Annabel and Michael Fenwick weren’t kin to Caleb. They were siblings to a seriously deranged kidnapper and the children of a confident artist who’d been killed in an unseemly duel.
While Annabel had a close blood link to the Bramwells, they’d never claimed her and the thread was so thin it was nearly invisible. That was Annabel’s history. Who could guess where Michael Fenwick’s antecedents might lead?
Benjamin hadn’t confided his relationship with Annabel to Soloman which would make the situation even more impossible. He and Annabel had been so affectionately attached, but Benjamin was bound to wed another so Annabel couldn’t be ensconced in Caleb’s home. How would they ever have a family supper?
Her actions had rendered changes she never could have intended, but he couldn’t have explained the alterations to her in a manner that didn’t sound cruel and petty. Nor did he know how Soloman would ever convince Caleb that a severing of his Fenwick connection was for the best.
Benjamin shouldn’t be in the middle of any of it, and he was focusing on his own life, on his own branch of the family. For many years, he’d avoided his responsibilities, but it was time to seize the reins of power.
“I’m sorry to hear your opinion about Caleb,” he said.
“No, you’re not.”
“I am, for it forces me to be awful to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will retire to the country.”
“I will not.”
“You will.”
She glowered, trying to find the words to dissuade him, but he must have appeared very determined because she immediately backed down. “Fine. I like Grey Manor, and I’m happy to return there.”
“I will live at Grey Manor, and you are not joining me.”
His firm comment had her stumbling to a halt as if it had finally occurred to her that she might not be able to bully him into getting her way.
“Then where am I to live?” she asked.
“I have bought a small house for you. You’ll go there at once.”
“I will not simply...move. I am willing to establish myself in my own residence, but I shall have to tour various properties and select the one that suits me.”
“You’re forgetting an important fact, Mother.”
“What is it?”
“Who controls the purse strings?”
“You do.”
“Have you any money of your own?”
“No.”
“You are in no position to tour properties. I have chosen the place for you.”
“Where is it to be?”
“I purchased a cottage from Edward Boswell.”
“You’re joking.”
“He was in a hurry to sell so the price was very fair.”
“Why was he selling it? What’s wrong with it?”
“He didn’t like the prior tenant and how she had let it fall into disrepair.”
“Who was the prior tenant?”
“Lydia Fenwick Boswell.”
She huffed with offense. “You’re abandoning me in a house that was previously occupied by a madwoman?”
“Yes. I’ll paint it first, hang some new drapes, and put down a few rugs, but it is to be your home from now on.”
She bristled. “I won’t go.”
“I think you will.”
“You can’t make me!”
“You don’t imagine I can?”
“No.”
“You’re welcome to refuse, but I must inform you—if that is your decision—you will receive no other support from me. You’ll pack a bag and leave. You can visit your numerous friends to see if there is an extra bedchamber where you can sleep.”
He’d intentionally used the word numero
us for they knew she had no friends. She was too arrogant and people didn’t like her.
“You wouldn’t do that to me!” she said.
“I would.” He studied her, wondering if she was actually his mother. They looked nothing alike and had no common character traits. Maybe he’d been switched at birth.
“You’re being deliberately cruel,” she said.
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re my son!”
“You shouldn’t have tried to hurt Caleb, Mother. You shouldn’t have tattled to Mr. Boswell. You shouldn’t have bribed Miss Fenwick.”
“The pathetic hussy grabbed for the money quickly enough, and Boswell was no help to me whatsoever. A pox on both their hides.”
“I ordered you to butt out, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“As I believe I’ve mentioned, you were behaving like a lunatic. Why would I heed you?”
“We will have many years of drama and changes as we recover from Caleb’s return. There will be reunions and weddings and other celebrations. We will enjoy all of those events, and you—with your hateful, insulting attitude—cannot be permitted to participate in any of them.”
She bristled again then disingenuously claimed, “Perhaps I was too hasty about the boy. Perhaps I could learn to accept him.”
Benjamin barked out a laugh. “It’s too little, too late, Mother, so what is it to be? Will you move to the cottage I have purchased for you? Or will you live with friends?”
She was infuriated, and she wailed, “You horrid ingrate! What mother ever deserved such a wretched child?”
“If it’s to be your friends, I’d like you to depart at once, but if you elect to retire to the cottage, it will be ready on Saturday. What is it to be? Will you go now? Or will you leave in a few days?”
She hemmed and hawed, dithered and debated. Ultimately, she grumbled, “I will take the house. Be damned to you.”
She stood to stomp out, and he said, “Stay in your room until Saturday. I really don’t wish to fuss with you before then. I’ll have your meals sent up.”
“I’m to be a...a...prisoner? In my own home? I will never forgive you!”
“I don’t care.”
She stormed out, and he sat in his chair, not feeling the least bit of regret.
“I REQUEST A FAVOR.”
Wesley stared at his brother, and he was roiled by a myriad of emotions. He hated his brother but was in awe of him too. He was a larger-than-life character, a leader of men, a genuine hero. He was so different and so much better than Wesley at every endeavor.
Wesley had never usually begrudged him his stellar traits—until he’d betrothed himself to Veronica. Wesley had been crushed and astonished by his brother’s selfish disregard.
Previously, he’d assumed Veronica had chosen Benjamin because it would make her a countess. He’d consoled himself with the idea that if he had had a title to offer, she would have picked him instead.
Yet through her infatuation for Michael Fenwick, her true nature was exposed. Despite Wesley’s lengthy and passionate devotion, she wasn’t fond of him in the slightest.
It was time to set aside his childish ways, with Veronica being the first in a long line of things he was determined to relinquish.
“I’m not sure I’ll grant you a favor,” Benjamin said.
“I’ve never sought one before. Why wouldn’t you assist me?”
“At the moment, I’m not particularly keen on my family so I’m not inclined to be generous.”
“I would say that’s absolutely typical of you, but I’m not here to fight.”
They were in Benjamin’s library with Benjamin seated behind his grand desk, and Wesley standing in front of it like a schoolboy who’d been called to the headmaster’s office. He could have sat down too, but he wasn’t disposed to linger.
“I have a question,” Benjamin said. “If you answer honestly, it might put me in a charitable mood.”
“Ask away,” Wesley retorted. “We’ll see what sort of reply you receive.”
“What’s going on between Veronica and Michael Fenwick?”
Wesley hadn’t expected Veronica to be the topic, and he gaped at his brother. Should he tattle? Should he not? Was it worth it? Or should he be silent?
He had always loved Veronica, and if his sentiment was sincere, why would he ruin her chance for a good marriage? Shouldn’t he protect her when she was in a jam?
And he understood that’s where she was. She’d misbehaved with Michael, but he couldn’t guess how far she’d walked down the salacious road. Was she in any condition to be Benjamin’s bride?
Finally, he said, “If you’d like to know about Michael and Veronica, you should discuss it with her. Not me.”
“I intend to. She should arrive any second, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. I was simply hoping you might tell me the truth. I doubt I’ll pry it out of her.”
“You were never eager to wed her.”
Benjamin considered then shrugged. “I wouldn’t agree with that statement. I was happy to have mother arrange it. If I hadn’t been, I’d never have consented.”
“Do you suppose she’ll still be interested in you now that you won’t be Lyndon? She was so excited to be a countess, and you can’t bestow the ultimate prize.”
“I’m positive she’ll cry off. I’m betting she’s fickle that way.” Benjamin leaned back in his chair and grinned. “So if she’s about to be free again, you should swoop in immediately and propose. Would you like to wait in the hall so you can speak to her the minute I’m through?”
Wesley scoffed. “I don’t want her.”
“Really? I’m shocked to hear it.”
It was agonizing to talk about Veronica for it meant he had to face his stupidity. Instead, he announced what had brought him to the room. “I’d like to buy a commission in the army.”
Benjamin lurched forward with a jolt. “You what?”
“I want to join the army, and I want you to give me the money.”
“Mother would never allow it.”
“It’s not up to her. I’m twenty-two years old, and I can make my own decisions.”
“But the army, Wesley. You have to be tough and brave and...well...tough.”
“I’m aware that you view me as a juvenile malingerer and malcontent.” His brother didn’t jump to deny the comment so Wesley continued. “I admit I have been incredibly immature. I haven’t seen a path to move on with my life, but if I don’t get myself out of London, I’ll go mad.”
Benjamin studied him forever then asked, “What’s wrong, Wesley? What happened? You can confide in me.”
Wesley yearned to confess how disappointed he was with Veronica and Michael, but he was shamed by his gullibility. He had to quit being so naïve and trusting. He had to grow up, grow a spine, and learn to accept that being Wesley Grey was more than enough.
“Nothing happened,” he lied. “I’m simply ready for a change.”
“The army might be a bit more of a change than you actually want.”
“If it turns out to be a huge mistake, you can say you warned me and I won’t blame you for not stopping me.”
Benjamin drummed his fingers on the desk, pondering, debating, and obviously wondering how to dissuade Wesley but he never could.
Eventually, Benjamin said, “I’ll give you the money.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve typically found though—when a person travels to a new place—he brings himself along. You’ll still be Wesley Grey when you get there.”
“Well, hopefully, Wesley Grey can become someone I enjoy having with me on the ride.”
“Yes, hopefully,” Benjamin agreed. “I’m glad about this, Wesley. I think it will do you a world of good.”
“I think it will too.”
He spun and left without looking back.
“WESLEY! THERE YOU ARE!”
Veronica had been cooling her heels in the front parlor, waiting for Addington to inform Benjamin she’d arri
ved, but the lengthy delay curtly apprised her she wasn’t exactly a welcome guest.
Mr. Addington had just announced her, and as she came down the hall to the library, Wesley exited the room.
“Hello, Veronica.” He didn’t pause to chat, but strutted by as if she were invisible.
“Wesley!”
He glanced back. “What?”
“I have to speak to Benjamin then I’d like to speak with you once I’m through.”
She smiled her warmest smile, anxious to smooth over their discord.
With Soloman Grey having proclaimed Lord Lyndon’s return, Benjamin wasn’t going to be an earl. A marriage between them wouldn’t make her anything except Mrs. Benjamin Grey, and she couldn’t bear to fall that far from the spot she should have attained by matrimony.
She and her parents had fervidly discussed the issue, and they’d decided—with Veronica’s large dowry—she should attempt to land another peer. Most of the old noble families were broke and desperate for an infusion of funds so she was a marvelous catch.
The problem was there weren’t a lot of earls out there. Still though, she had to try, but in case she didn’t succeed she had to hedge her bets.
She was already twenty, and if she spent two or three years searching for an aristocratic spouse, but didn’t snag one, she would be pushing spinsterhood. So she needed to keep all avenues open. If her nuptial path didn’t wend her in a beneficial direction, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea to wed Wesley.
He was first cousin to Lord Lyndon, and after she tossed over Benjamin, he wouldn’t be inclined to take her back. Wesley was her second choice, and he had to be reminded of their affection.
To her great surprise, he studied her derisively then shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy today.”
She smiled even wider. “Don’t be silly. We could ride in the park. I brought Father’s gig. I know how much you like to drive it.”
“I never liked driving it. I went with you because it made you happy.”
“Well then, we could stop somewhere for tea and cakes.”
“No, thank you.”
He was staring at her coldly, as if she was a stranger, as if he’d never loved her. She leaned nearer and rested a hand on his chest. “Is this about Michael?” she whispered. “If it is, I have to tell you that—”
