Not Another Nob (The Marriage Maker Book 32)

by Annabelle Anders

He and his older brother, Clem, had only just acquired the annoying indulgence recently.

  Ben wondered if he’d ever grow accustomed to having another person doing for him what he could easily do for himself.

  But the funds were available, and Clem and he had agreed they ought to make a greater attempt at blending in with society. Even though they’d never find true acceptance.

  Settled onto the surprisingly small space vacated by the companion, Ben allowed his thigh to casually brush the material of Miss Dubois’ dress.

  As he shifted, a floral, fruity scent met his senses.

  She’d declared herself a realist.

  “You’re shockingly pretty for a realist.” He couldn’t help but flirt with her. He turned to watch her response.

  A slight blush crept up her neck, but she was not too shy to meet his gaze. “I’m not sure that makes any sense.” And then she laughed. A sparkling, light sound that made him want to amuse her once again. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

  Dark, thick lashes framed those shimmering eyes of hers. This close, his attraction to her was almost alarming.

  “What of you, my lord? Are you like most men of your station, or are you wise enough to look for opportunities that are not attached to a betrothal?”

  Ben raised his brows. Not only was she some nabob’s daughter, but she was likely one with a large dowry. She apparently knew her financial worth and realized any suitors would take this into consideration.

  “I’m wise enough to recognize beauty and intelligence.” Ben held her gaze steadily. She smiled and glanced down at her hands. On close inspection, he realized her complexion was not perfect, after all. Small clusters of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. And her smile lifted higher on one side than the other.

  Which charmed him all the more.

  Her smile faded, and she chuckled again. “I believe that was another compliment. That’s two in less than five minutes.”

  “Don’t attempt to convince me you aren’t used to compliments. I’d wager you sit court to a bevy of beaus.” He could not be certain of this as he’d not attended any balls himself, but he could picture her in his mind, reclining on a fainting couch with popinjays vying for placement on her dance card.

  He didn’t like it.

  But she was shaking her head. “Such an imagination you have.”

  He could hardly believe his luck.

  A beautiful lady.

  Intelligent. Witty. Modest.

  “You do not sit court?” he teased. “You stand, then?”

  She laughed again and her small, pale hand swept an escaped tendril of hair away from her face. Ben itched to do it for her.

  “You’re bamming me.” Again, the sweet sound of her laughter. How could she be so unaware of her own allure?

  Shaking her head, she reached to the ground and opened a basket. “Would you care for a refreshment? Dolores and I brought along a picnic…” She removed a napkin and some grapes. “There is some lemonade…” She pulled out a canteen and poured a small amount into a dish for her dog before offering it to him.

  Benjamin accepted the fruit but declined the drink. He carried his own water when he traveled. “Many thanks.” He popped one of the grapes into his mouth. “Would it be presumptuous of me to inquire as to your destination?”

  Instead of answering, she plucked one of the grapes off the branch in his hand and thoughtfully rubbed it along her bottom lip.

  Did she realize what that did to a man? Perhaps he had the wrong of it… Perhaps she was a courtesan in disguise… He held back a groan as she twirled the fruity member between her lips.

  “Just visiting a friend. What of you my lord? Is your estate nearby?” And then the grape disappeared and she bit down.

  Was she fishing for information about him? Did she doubt he was in fact the Baron of Jester, an entirely fictitious title he’d invented on the spot?

  He’d keep as close to the truth as possible. He and his brother lived on a large estate near Manchester. Why would a nabob be traveling in the heat of the summer? “Social obligations,” he answered. “My home is in the north.”

  The urge to confess his lie nearly had him explaining that he was, in fact, a member of the wealthy Peabody family. Not a lord. But he checked himself.

  What would she say if she knew the extent to which he involved himself in trade? Involved didn’t nearly begin to describe what he did. Immersed was more accurate.

  The opportunity to confess all passed when a rabbit dashed across the road, capturing the attention of Miss Dubois’ short-legged dog.

  Which promptly launched into exuberant pursuit.

  “Elmer!” Miss Dubois jumped from the log and took flight as well.

  Whereupon, Ben knew that as a gentleman, his obligation required him to track down the little hound himself.

  But Elmer? Really? What the hell kind of name was that for any self-respecting dog?

  After one quick glance at his mount, which stood patiently near the carriage, Ben dove into the trees where Miss Dubois had disappeared.

  “Blast and Bollocks, Elmer! You bad, bad boy, come back here this instant!” her voice carried through the brush for Ben to follow. “You benighted little devil!” He couldn’t help smiling at some of the words escaping Miss Dubois’ lips. Likely, she’d be blushing when she realized what he’d overheard. “Damn your eyes, Elmer!”

  Ben emerged near a stream in time to see her, crouched down on her hands and knees, reach into the water.

  Covered in mud.

  And yet, with a perfectly timed jump and splash, the little beast eluded her. Safely on the opposite bank, he then shook his sausage-shaped body in such a manner as to send water flying all around him.

  Ben crossed the small stream easily, stepping on a few conveniently placed stones, and scooped the canine into his arms.

  “I’ve got you, little chap,” Ben muttered. He barely had to grasp the little creature, however, as Elmer promptly made himself comfortable by burrowing his snout into Ben’s jacket.

  “You stinking little beast!” Miss Dubois leaned back on her haunches, eyes flashing.

  Not at him, Ben presumed. At her dog.

  Even as the odor of wet canine assaulted his senses, Ben couldn’t help smiling at the sight before him.

  Gone was the perfect coiffure. Gone, the pristine dress. Gone were all the embellishments that had given her the appearance of a perfect lady.

  Most notably, she’d lost her practiced demeanor.

  Swiping again at a few escaped tendrils of hair, her fingers left behind a dark streak of mud. When she reached toward the ground in preparation to stand, Ben leaped into action.

  Still clutching her pet, Ben crossed the stream in time to offer his assistance.

  “I have no words for that dog right now.” She glared up as Ben helped her to her feet. “No words, at all. If I had a farthing for every time that little stinkard has tried to run away from me,” she muttered in frustration as she attempted to brush mud off her dress.

  And then reached across and scooped Elmer out of Ben’s arms.

  And cuddled the lucky dog.

  “Don’t scare me like that!” She kissed the sopping little sausage on the top of his head, blinking back tears.

  Ben watched her, stunned.

  A most unusual lady.

  Unable to help himself, he pulled out his handkerchief and reached across the space between them. The sight of dried mud clinging to the curve of her cheek… It ought to look out of place and yet it affected him.

  She stilled at his touch.

  Not sure if he’d alarmed her, Ben paused. “You have some mud right here.” He dabbed at her cheek and near her eyes. “And here.”

  Her silver blue gaze held him captive, burning into him with the same wonderment creeping into his own heart. In that moment, he felt as though they were the only two people on Earth. They had stumbled into a place where no one else existed and nothing else mattered.

&n
bsp; There was no forest. No sky. No stream.

  Just the two of them and this sensation.

  Ben smoothed a spot at the corner of her eye with his thumb.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  As though she read his mind, her lips parted. Was her heart beating as rapidly as his?

  “Miss Claire!” a high-pitched female voice broke the spell, dragging Ben out of his trance. “Miss Claire, where have you gone off to?”

  Miss Dubois blinked in surprise and stepped back. Her gaze dropped to the ground. She looked everywhere but at him. “My thanks for rescuing Elmer,” she rasped. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.”

  Warm honey spread through his veins at her admission. He’d managed to garner her favor.

  And he wanted it. He wanted this chit’s favor.

  Only, he’d lied to her about who he was. He wasn’t a baron. He wasn’t even gentry.

  With a sinking heart, he offered his arm and led her back to the road, where her coachman had apparently just returned with a replacement carriage and two workmen who were already examining the broken wheel.

  Chapter Three

  Tingles

  Claire swallowed the large lump lodged in her throat.

  When he’d touched her, something inside her had recognized his heart—his soul. Her brother had always told her she was too fanciful—too silly in her romantic ideas. But in that moment, everything she’d ever believed about love became real.

  The manner in which he’d caressed the streak of mud from her face, so gentle, as though he were afraid she’d break apart. She could almost imagine his eyes as a hot blue flame.

  A gentleman with fire in his eyes. Who knew such a creature existed?

  When they arrived back at the road, Coachman John was talking to two workers he’d brought back with him, and Dolores was packing the picnic basket into the newly arrived replacement carriage. It was not as luxurious as the one her brother had provided, but it did have four functioning wheels.

  “Miss Claire! What have you done to your dress?” Dolores went into hysterics upon seeing the state Elmer’s flight had imprinted upon her mistress.

  Claire dropped Lord Jester’s arm and immediately mourned the loss of their connection. Flustered, she tried swiping the mud off her gown.

  A useless endeavor, indeed.

  And her shoes. Argh! Ruined.

  As she bent over, her hair tumbled around her, having apparently lost a few hairpins in her headlong flight to save Elmer. Claire reached up and tried to repair the braid, but it was no use. Instead, she smoothed it with her fingers.

  As she did so, a tingling worked its way up her spine. Unable to ignore the sensation, she glanced over her shoulder.

  His eyes blazed with a hunger that ought to have frightened her.

  But it did not. His look merely reflected some of her own emotions as she noted Lord Jester’s stance. Powerful and protective.

  He stood almost a full head taller than her, watchful and ready to defend her.

  From what, she wondered?

  Dolores arrived at her side and immediately began twisting Claire’s hair into a knot at the back of her head.

  Claire realized then that the workmen had stopped to stare at her, as well.

  “Elmer ran off,” Claire explained to Dolores. “Across the stream. I was afraid he’d try to drown himself and, well…” She gestured down at her clothing.

  “Ruined, Miss Claire! Oh and your poor slippers. I doubt I can do anything to repair them.” Dolores attempted to drag Claire away from Lord Jester, but Claire couldn’t leave him just yet. She needed to say goodbye. She needed to know that she might see him again. She needed to touch him…remind herself that this window in time had not been a dream.

  She needed to…

  But Claire Dubois did not exist. She’d pretended gentility, rather unsuccessfully, she admitted to herself.

  What would he think if he knew her true background? Would he dismiss her as beneath him? He did not seem to be a mercenary person. He’d seemed…kind. Genuine. He’d seemed to be a man of character.

  How did she know any of this? She did not. But she’d felt something. Inside.

  Inside her heart.

  Dolores tugged at her. “A moment, Dolly.” Claire shook herself free of her maid’s hands. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Dolores scowled, but then she brushed her hands as if washing them and threw them above her head. “It will be a miracle if we ever get there!”

  Dolores’s impatience didn’t bother Claire. She’d grown used to her maid’s tendency to complain.

  Instead, she focused her attention on Lord Jester. Should she admit to having lied about her name? Should she tell him who she really was? Likely, if she did, his gaze would transform from charming and beguiled to disgust.

  Perhaps it would be best to leave this moment in the past. A delightful, romantic memory.

  She set Elmer on the ground with a firm warning and then turned to face this gentleman who would remain something of a dream.

  He glanced at her sideways while combing one hand through his hair. Which caused her to realize…

  “You lost your hat.”

  His brows rose in surprise, but he smiled. “And you lost your hair pins.”

  If she were a lady, this would nearly ruin her, but he didn’t say anything of the like.

  She enjoyed looking at him without his hat. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and she noticed tiny wrinkles forming around the corners of his eyes. He looked closer to thirty than twenty. But his demeanor seemed youthful and a little devil-may-care.

  “It appears we are to complete our journey in a new conveyance.” She did her best to sound matter of fact despite the disappointment setting in at losing him.

  Silly thought. As though she ever had him.

  She barely knew him. He was a stranger.

  “I…” he began. He ran that hand through his hair again and then looked off in the distance. When he turned his head to meet her eyes again, his smile resembled more of a wince. “It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Claire noticed his finger fidgeting with that button again.

  Elmer took the chance to bridge the distance between the two of them and lick at Lord Jester’s boots. “Oh, Elmer!” Claire dashed forward and scooped the disobedient dog back into her arms. She did not step back when she rose, however, and found herself standing only inches from him. When she tilted her head back, she could see his individual eye lashes, the short hairs of his beard. His pupils grew, and his nostrils flared.

  For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman. She felt like a woman because she knew in that moment Lord Jester wanted to kiss her. And not in a casual, lackluster manner. He wanted to kiss her based on some primal need.

  Time stopped, as though they were in a duel, awaiting the count down so that either of them could move.

  “Miss Dubois,” he spoke her name on a whisper.

  And then Elmer began licking below her chin. “Elmer!” she breathed his name in dismay, breaking the moment. She stepped back, as did Lord Jester, who cleared his throat and shuttered the expression she’d seen only seconds before. “I hope the remainder of your journey passes without further incident.”

  Claire could have cried. Darn Elmer!

  Except. What had she expected?

  “I’m certain it will.” She was surprised her voice still functioned. Dolores awaited her. John would be impatient. The time had come to walk away from him.

  She met those brilliant blue eyes one last time. She needed to bid him farewell.

  He dipped his head. “Farewell then, Miss Dubois.”

  “Claire.” She wanted to hear her own name on his lips.

  A tender smile crossed his lips. “Claire.”

  “Farewell to you, Lord—”

  “Benjamin,” he corrected.

  “Benjamin.” She savored his given name. At least she had this. Something to dream of when she
’d passed the age of romance. A chance meeting. A mysterious lord.

  Named Benjamin.

  He tipped his head one last time and began stepping backward, toward his horse, which stood patiently awaiting him.

  Then, in the flash of an instant, he sprang into the saddle proudly. With a wave of his hand, he was off.

  She watched him ride away for several seconds before reluctantly dragging herself over to the replacement carriage.

  “Lord Jester!” Dolores scoffed after Claire settled herself on the backward facing bench with Elmer. “He was quite the jester, all right.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes at the other woman’s disgusted expression. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, Miss Claire, he’s no more a baron than I’m the queen. Lord Jester, indeed.”

  But.

  But.

  He wouldn’t lie to her! Surely not? He’d been dressed fashionably, and even she could see he rode upon a valuable mount.

  “You’re wrong, Dolly.” Claire set her lips firmly. “He was a most honorable gentleman.” She wouldn’t allow her maid to tarnish her memory of the Baron of Jester. In fact, she’d find him listed in Debrett's and prove it. Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do.

  Then she’d show Dolores that she was as good a judge of character as anybody.

  As they neared Elysian Fields, the Fairchilds’ legendary estate, Claire regretted the romantic tragedy she’d created. She wished she’d been more forthcoming. Even the possibility of meeting him again, the possibility that he would not be dissuaded by her humble origins, would have been better than knowing she’d never meet him again.

  Even if such an opportunity did present itself, he’d know that she’d lied.

  Drat and damnation.

  He’d almost kissed her, she was certain of it.

  ****

  The blonde bundle of energy embraced her tightly as soon as the door opened. “I’m so glad Ethan allowed you to escape society to come visit!”

  The friendship between Amy Fairchild and Claire had been practically preordained at birth. Amy’s father owned several of the companies that Claire’s brother used in his shipping endeavors, and they’d been thrown together inadvertently on numerous occasions.