by Kate Pearce
Her smile died, and she took an unsteady step away from him, her blue gaze a mixture of hurt and derision.
“Whore, mistress, or lady? Why do you ask? Are you trying to decide whether to force me, pay me, or marry me?”
“No! Good God, no!” Benjamin winced at his own ineptitude. “I meant which class do you belong to.”
She didn’t look any happier. “My father was a gentleman, my mother was the daughter of a housekeeper. Why does it matter?”
Having already offended her, Benjamin decided he had nothing to lose by ploughing ahead. “You speak like a lady.”
“You speak like a gentleman.” She raised an eyebrow. “But sometimes you don’t act like one.”
“I went to a good school and learned my manners.” He bowed. “I apologize if you do not consider them adequate.”
“I eventually went to school in Belgium,” Henrietta said. “My new stepmother insisted I was too old to be running around with my father dressed as a boy.”
He pictured her in breeches, and his mind went to windmills again. “He dressed you as a boy?”
“It was safer. When he wasn’t soldiering, he was gambling. I didn’t mind. I actually missed the freedom of wearing breeches.” She scowled. “In the convent I had to behave myself, wear dresses, stockings, and stays. I hated it.”
Benjamin quashed an irrational desire to get hold of Henrietta’s father and shake some sense into him. How could a man she obviously adored have allowed her to face such dangers? He sought for a more neutral question.
“How long were you incarcerated in the convent?”
“From the age of twelve to eighteen, which is when I did something very stupid and eloped with the soldier my father employed to send messages to me.”
Benjamin realized he was staring again, his mouth agape, and tried to regain his senses. The beautiful woman opposite him had enjoyed a far more thrilling and adventurous life than he would ever have. If she’d met him at a ball or at the house of an acquaintance, she would never have bothered to speak to him more than once because he would have bored her within seconds.
A pigeon flapped past his ear, startling him. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the sound of cooing coming from the octagonal stone structure in the center of the clearing. It was clearly very old, with a domed top and a wide stone doorway, which was fitted with a modern-looking wooden door and a lock. He hastily cleared his throat.
“Do we have the key?”
Henrietta gave Benjamin a strange look as he suddenly abandoned his blunt questions about everything in her life and returned to the more mundane matter of the pigeons. Why she had even gotten into conversation about her childhood and doomed marriage was a mystery. But there was something about Benjamin’s dogged determination to uncover the truth that appealed to her. He wasn’t afraid to ask the questions most people avoided. Not that she had satisfactory answers for him, but that was another issue entirely.
She produced the large iron key from her pocket and held it up. “Let’s try not to startle them too much when we enter.”
“We’re going inside?” Benjamin asked.
“How else are we going to count the pigeons?” Henrietta unlocked the door and held her breath as the rank odor of feathers and pigeon droppings exploded from the opening.
She glanced back and frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking off my coat,” Benjamin replied. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
Henrietta hid a smile as he neatly folded the garment and placed it on a flat rock near the grass. She only hoped the pixies didn’t run away with it.
Behind her, Benjamin sneezed, turning his back to avoid frightening the pigeons. Holding her skirts clear of the ground, Henrietta stepped inside the culvery and looked up. By her reckoning, the hexagonal space was about ten feet across and almost twenty feet high. The lime-washed walls and opening at the top made it far easier to see inside than one would imagine from the dour exterior.
“It’s lighter than I thought it would be,” Benjamin spoke softly as he stood close by her. “I’ll wager there are almost two hundred nesting alcoves in here.”
“Indeed.” Henrietta turned a slow circle, counting how many of the hand-carved niches were filled with pigeons, and how many showed signs of recent occupation. “Obviously, they aren’t all in at the moment, probably out paying calls, but I think there are at least eighty pigeons nesting here.”
“And some doves.” Benjamin directed her attention to the other side of the dome, his hand on her shoulder, his mouth brushing against her ear. A thrill of warmth ran down her spine, making her breathless.
“How appropriate for a wedding,” she managed to say as he went still, his mouth lingering by her ear as he slowly inhaled.
“Henrietta…”
She closed her eyes and leaned fractionally toward him.
“Atchoo!” Benjamin’s sneeze ricocheted off the wall, sending the pigeons into a frenzy of flapping, defecating, and panicked flying that necessitated their quick escape from the dovecote.
He laughed as he grabbed her hand and towed her toward the door and into the delightfully fresh air. They both gulped it down as Henrietta remembered to lock the door behind them. Had she almost let Benjamin kiss her? Had she wanted that? Or was there some magic in the woods that was leading her astray in another pointless jig?
“There, we can go now.” She turned to find Benjamin close behind her again, one hand braced on the stone lintel to the side of the door.
“May I kiss you?”
She considered his serious expression, her heart beating with the intense rhythm of a marching battalion. She was leaving soon and would likely never return to Castle Keyvnor and, oh God, she yearned to be touched, to be held, to be cherished…
“Why?” She demanded.
“Because I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do at this moment than kiss you, and, if I don’t, I suspect I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a remarkably long time,” Henrietta said.
He smiled. “I sound like a complete fool, don’t I? But that’s what you have reduced me to without even trying.”
“What happens after we kiss?”
He gestured to the basket at his feet. “We go and collect some greenery to decorate the castle.” He hesitated. “I hate to sound somewhat theatrical, but I fear this moment, and our meeting, has something of a dreamlike quality to it, and that if I do not act now it will be gone forever.”
“People say that a lot about Castle Keyvnor.”
He took a step closer. “Then may I?”
Henrietta nodded as he reached out his hand and gently removed a feather from her hair. Before she could thank him, he leaned in and kissed her lips with a deliberate slowness that made her whole body go still. She became aware of the smallest things, the mint scent of his breath, the drenched greenness around them, and the now-silent birds.
His tongue teased a line along her lips, and she yielded her mouth to him along with possession of her senses. She’d been kissed before, but never like this—with such sweetness and such seriousness.
With a ragged sound, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and held him just where she wanted him as he ravaged her mouth in an endless dance that neither of them seemed willing to end. His arm encircled her hips, bringing their bodies together, making her aware that he was hard and that she wanted that as well.
He would think her wanton… He would categorize her as a whore who was all too ready to fall on her back for him. She broke the kiss and stared into his face. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, and he was breathing like a racehorse. There was no sign of avarice or calculation in his brown gaze, only good, honest lust and a growing hint of bewilderment.
“We should get back,” Henrietta whispered.
“Yes. And, I should tell you—”
She placed her fingers on his lips. “Don’t spoil the moment, Benjamin, please? Whatever it is
, I’m sure it will keep.”
He sighed. “I have a feeling this will not end well.”
“Kissing me?” Henrietta made sure her trembling limbs would support her and eased away from the door.
“That was a pleasure.” He shoved a hand through his disordered hair, dislodging a few feathers. After putting on his coat, he turned toward the path muttering, “It’s the rest of it that will catch up with me and damn me to hell.”
Henrietta decided not to question him further and set off down the path. There were several holly bushes replete with berries to plunder on their return journey that would make excellent decorations for the castle. She needed to do something to keep from launching herself at Benjamin and making all sorts of demands that would probably shock him to his core. She sensed that he was used to living in a very ordered environment and that her presence was causing him some anxiety.
But he’d kissed her. He’d been the one to ask, not her…
“Do you intend to reside at the castle permanently?”
Henrietta glanced over at Benjamin who appeared to have recovered his composure far more quickly than she had.
“No. I had to ask my grandmother to take me in over the Christmas season. My baggage is still on a ship somewhere and, as my financial papers are in my trunk, I cannot establish an account at a bank or afford to stay at an inn.”
“You should always carry your financial information on your person.”
“I know that, but it was supposed to be a short trip across the channel. I didn’t account for the fact that there was going to be a massive storm, making the ship have to divert to Ireland for repairs.” She scowled. “The passengers were taken over the side into small boats and left in Dover without most of our belongings.”
“Unfortunate indeed.”
“After I have secured my belongings, I am going to London.”
“Which part and where are you lodging?”
She stopped walking to stare at him. “Why does it matter?”
It was his turn to frown. “Should I apologize for being interested in the travel arrangements and accommodation of a woman traveling alone?”
“Yes, when said woman has been traveling by herself for years and has managed quite well, thank you.”
“But London is a large and dangerous city.”
“So is a battlefield, and I’ve navigated plenty of those. And helped to find and treat the wounded afterward as well.”
He slowly shook his head.
“What?” Henrietta demanded.
“You.”
He started walking again. Henrietta ended up having to chase him down and poke him in the back. “Me, what?”
“You…are magnificent.”
It was not what she’d been expecting him to say, and she just stared at him as he continued to speak.
“I have done nothing with my life, and you—a woman—have lived yours to the full.”
“Does the fact that I am a woman offend you, or is it that you have always done what is expected of you?” Henrietta asked.
“Your being a woman has nothing to do with my own inadequacies.” He shuddered. “If I hadn’t stayed home, God knows what my parents would have gotten up to, or my siblings. Someone had to take charge.”
Henrietta rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
He frowned. “What was that for?”
“For being a good man and taking care of your family.”
“Not that they appreciate it.” Benjamin sighed. “They think I’m stuffy and overprotective.”
“You are stuffy, but I find it quite endearing.” Henrietta kissed him again. No one had ever really protected her. “Before my stepmother came along, I felt as if it was my responsibility to protect and care for my father. I couldn’t imagine leaving his side.”
“You were a child. Our situations are quite different.”
“How old were you when you decided you had to be the sensible one in the family?” Henrietta challenged him.
Benjamin looked down at her, his arrested gaze far away as he grappled with her question.
“I don’t know. I don’t ever remember not feeling that way.”
“So we are the same. I escaped the task because my father had the sense to marry a wonderful woman. How will you escape?”
“I can’t.” His face closed up, and he stepped away from her. “Shall we continue? It looks as if it might turn to snow again.”
“You! Come here.”
“Yes, sir?”
Benjamin froze on the kitchen stairs and looked over to see Mr. Drake, the castle steward, beckoning imperiously to him. Henrietta had gone off with her basket of greenery, and he’d decided to head out to the stables to see if his valet and carriage had managed to put in an appearance yet. It was time to end this charade before he became far too enamored of Henrietta and hurt them both.
Dear God. Benjamin almost wanted to laugh. Was he about to be unmasked as a clothes thief and a fake valet?
Mr. Drake eyed him unfavorably. “Get up those stairs and help clear the table.”
“But—”
“Get on with it, lad! I know you’re a valet, but the devil finds work for idle hands, and you have nothing else to do at the moment, so help out.” He shoved Benjamin toward the door. “Mr. Morris will tell you what to do when you get up there.”
Benjamin took his time climbing the endless stone stairs, hoping with all his heart that by the time he arrived his presence would be unnecessary. Unfortunately, the butler beckoned to him from the open door of the dining room where there was still a murmur of conversation.
“Benjamin, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr. Morris.” Benjamin kept his gaze lowered.
“All you have to do is load the dishes onto the trays and bring them down to the kitchen. Do you think you can manage that? Breakages will come out of your wages.”
Benjamin glanced into the dining room, noting it was still half-full of guests, and nodded warily. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get started, and be quick about it.”
Benjamin took up position with his back to the remaining guests, some of whom he vaguely recognized from the last London Season. He stacked china as if his life depended on it. When fully loaded, the tray was remarkably heavy. He staggered down the spiral staircase to the kitchen, holding his breath the entire way, and carefully placed the tray in the scullery where Mary was washing dishes like a madwoman.
He set off back to the dining room to repeat the process. As he stacked dishes and sorted cutlery, he noticed something very strange. None of the guests seemed aware of all the work going on around them or were mindful of the servants. Would any of his passing acquaintances even notice him in this guise? Were they too used to blocking out those who served them?
He was guilty of the same thing. He barely knew half the names of the staff at his house in London. He would remedy that when he returned…
“You.” A glass was shoved against his chest. “Get me more brandy.”
Benjamin glanced at the door, but the butler appeared to have gone.
“Yes, sir.”
“My lord.”
Benjamin risked an upward glance to find the unpleasant visage of the Earl of Hayward staring back at him. Taking the glass, he walked over to the set of cut-glass decanters on the sideboard and poured the earl a hefty measure of brandy.
“Here you are, my lord.” He bowed as he presented the glass to the peer who had resumed his seat by the fireplace.
“That’s better. Next time use a tray and show some proper respect for your betters.” The earl raised his glass to his lips and contemplated Benjamin over the rim. “A word of warning, my fine fellow. The buxom blonde you went walking with today? She is not for your kind.” His smile turned salacious. “Her…talents lie elsewhere, so keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand me?”
It took every ounce of self-discipline Benjamin possessed not to grab the obnoxious earl by the throat and shake him like a dog until he b
egged for mercy. Breathing hard through his nose, he took a step backward.
“Yes, my lord.”
Turning his back on the despicable excuse for a human being, Benjamin stacked plates so ferociously he was in danger of smashing a few. Seeing as he’d be the one paying the bill, he considered it worth the risk. The alternative was to follow the Earl of Hayward out of the dining room and challenge him to a duel, which would probably upset his hosts and cast a cloud over the forthcoming weddings. He had a suspicion that Henrietta wouldn’t be very impressed with him either…
His elbow knocked a rather fine wine glass, sending it sideways off the table. Before he could even attempt to reach it, the glass stopped falling in midair and set itself back on the table. Benjamin blinked as a large redheaded and bearded man still holding the stem of the wine glass appeared and winked at him.
“Benedict Nankervis, at your service, sir.” He bowed. Benjamin’s blood froze as he realized he could still see the door through the spectral Tudor figure. “Give my best regards to Mistress Henrietta, and keep her safe, mind.”
“Absolutely,” Benjamin croaked, and the thing, whatever it was—he refused to call it a ghost—disappeared, leaving him with trembling limbs and the strong desire to run screaming from the room. But he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself, so he stayed put.
“Is that tray ready to go back to the kitchen, son?” Mr. Morris called out to him.
“Yes, sir.” Benjamin picked up the heavy tray and headed for the door, almost colliding with his cousin Michael, who was coming in.
“I do beg your pardon, sir,” Mr. Morris cried out. “This man isn’t part of our regular staff.”
“That’s quite all right. My mistake, and no harm done.”
Mr. Morris grabbed hold of the tray to steady it as Michael carried on into the dining room, not even acknowledging Benjamin’s existence in the slightest. Benjamin was beginning to feel as invisible as one of the ghosts. He was the heir to an earl. Was he really that forgettable even to his own blood relatives? Benjamin fought a sudden urge to laugh at his own indignation.
Not being known—being able to be himself for the first time ever—was remarkably freeing…
