“But they sometimes go wrong,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation.
So that explained her appearance that afternoon. “Is that how you stained your dress?”
“Unfortunately,” she divulged with a self-deprecating sigh, “it went awry just as you arrived.”
“Still, I’m impressed.” And at the way her cheeks pinked prettily at the compliment, he was glad he’d mentioned it. “And at all you do for the villagers.”
“It’s the responsibility I bear for being fortunate enough to live here,” she explained guilelessly.
Edward watched her with wonder. His aunt would have been appalled at her charitable attitude. No, he mused, Augusta would have already suffered apoplexy from being introduced to the butler.
But ignorant of society rules, Kate was simply intriguing.
With Arthur absent from the room, Edward took the liberty of refilling their wineglasses. “Tell me more about the farm.”
She looked at him warily. “What do you want to know?”
He shrugged to deflect her suspicions. “You grew up here. What was that like?”
She hesitated, then apparently deciding that chatting about her childhood on the farm posed no threat, she told him about the household staff, her late mother, the villagers…everything except her father.
Phillip Benton’s absence in the conversation was curious. Surely she knew about her father’s involvement in Jane and Stephen’s deaths. How could she not, given the severity of the accident? Yet she’d given no indication she even knew who he was. Her life at Brambly would have to be so isolated, so insular—
But it was. One glance at the farm proved that. No newspapers, no close neighbors, little contact with anyone except a handful of local villagers and the physicians scattered across England with whom she communicated by post.
Perhaps she knew nothing about his true connection to her father after all. And that would be more than curious. It would be a bloody relief. Not just that she was innocent in the agreement but also because it made his role of guardian easier. True, he had limited knowledge of how guardianships worked, but he assumed one was much more enjoyable when the ward didn’t despise her guardian for seeking revenge against her father.
By the time dessert was finished, their attempt at polite conversation had dissipated into an uneasy silence. Dinner was now officially over, and so was their truce.
“Thank you for an enjoyable dinner, Your Grace.” Kate folded her serviette next to her plate. “Arthur will show you to the sitting room, then assist you upstairs. Good evening.”
As she rose from her chair, Edward stood. “Miss Benton, a moment.”
She stopped.
His eyes darted toward Arthur, who waited patiently by the doorway. “May we speak privately?”
“Could it wait until tomorrow?” A nervous wariness edged her voice. “I’m quite tired.”
“It won’t take long.” If they settled everything tonight, he could leave first thing in the morning and not have to give another thought to what she knew about her father. Or him.
“Very well.” With an apprehensive expression, she led him into the sitting room.
Unlike the other rooms, this one was still furnished, complete with worn but comfortable pieces of furniture arranged around a fireplace, where a small fire heated away the nighttime chill. The draperies were drawn against the cool night, and piles of books sat stacked haphazardly on tables next to small porcelain statuettes, carved wooden boxes, and delicate flower vases.
But it was the painting over the fireplace that seized his attention and brought him to a standstill, a portrait of a beautiful woman nearly identical to Kate. The same oval-shaped face and pert nose, the same elegant neck, spirited emerald eyes, red hair like flames—right down to the same ice-blue dress.
“My mother,” Kate explained. “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?”
When he tore his eyes away and glanced down at her as she stood beside the fireplace, he saw double. The resemblance was uncanny. “Very,” he murmured.
“Mama was just two years older than I am now when she sat for that portrait. My father commissioned it as an anniversary gift.”
He stiffened at her mention of her father, the first one all evening. “That was thoughtful,” he drawled. “He must have loved her very much.”
“No,” she answered softly, honestly, not hearing the sarcastic edge he was unable to keep from his voice at the thought of Phillip Benton having enough heart to love anyone, “but she loved him.” Her gaze never left her mother’s portrait.
And his gaze never left her. “And you?” He closely gauged her reaction. “Does he love you?”
“Of course, he does.”
“How do you know?” he challenged.
She slid a taunting glance in his direction. “Because he sends guardians to take care of me.”
Sharp-tongued chit. “Then by all means.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Let’s discuss the guardianship.”
She hesitated, then settled stiffly onto the cushions. “There is nothing to discuss as I do not need a guardian.” Her hands folded delicately in her lap. “Clearly, there has been a mistake.”
Edward knew better. There was no mistake. Phillip Benton’s full intent was to make him her guardian. What he didn’t know was why.
“My attorney spoke directly to your father regarding the agreement,” he explained. “It’s a binding contract placing you under my care.”
“Why would my father give me a guardian—now, at my age?” She tilted her head as she looked at him, as if he were an object in a curio cabinet. “And why would he pick you?”
He folded his arms indignantly. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing as far as I can see.”
Her green gaze drifted over him, and he stayed perfectly still as she studied him, down his tall body, back up…thighs, chest, shoulders, mouth—when her gaze met his, she paused to stare, and in response, he arched an amused brow.
Caught, her eyes widened in embarrassment and she glanced away.
Edward smiled with devilish enjoyment at her discomfort, even feeling slightly flattered at the innocent attention. Since last year, women openly scrutinized him all the time, not bothering to hide the lust on her faces. Women who wouldn’t have given him a second glance before threw themselves at him now. It was amazing what inheriting a duchy could do for a man’s popularity.
But he’d never experienced such critical appraisal from someone like Kate before, someone who couldn’t have cared less what titles he possessed. Someone so innocent yet bold. A virginal devil. The experience was…not unpleasant.
She cleared her throat. “You’re a complete stranger and, well, not in the same social circle that my father occupies.”
She was right about that. He was a duke, albeit a reluctant one; her father was the poorest of gentlemen. And Edward did his best not to occupy any social circle.
“Your father and I entered into a business arrangement.” Not a complete lie, although the arrangement was forced and the business revenge. But he had no intention of sharing that, not when he still didn’t know if he could trust her. If she were innocent of her father’s machinations, the truth would only hurt her. And if she were complicit, he wanted no more ammunition placed within her reach.
She rose to her feet, asking carefully, “What kind of arrangement?”
His chest tightened. Judging from her hopeful expression, she knew nothing about the situation he’d forced onto her father or how deep her father’s debts ran, how very close he’d come to being locked up in debtor’s prison or killed by one of the men he’d cheated.
“I’ve become your father’s executor,” he explained, carefully choosing his words and conveniently glossing over the ugly details. “I’ve assumed his obligations.”
“So you are managing his business affairs now?”
Her question hinted at gratitude rather than accusation. As he nodded, an unexpected stab of guilt struc
k in his gut.
She beamed and tossed up her hands. “Well, that explains it!”
“Explains what?”
“Papa’s been trying for a successful business venture for so long…” A laugh of relief escaped her. “When he signed the guardianship contract, he must have thought he was signing just another business document.”
Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, laughing happily as she buried her face against his neck.
“Oh, thank you!”
For a moment, he let her press herself against him, taking shameless pleasure in her softness, in the honeysuckle scent and warmth of her. Then he took her shoulders and set her away before he forgot she was his virginal ward. And the daughter of his enemy.
“Thank me for what?” he asked cautiously. It was quite a leap to go from thinking the guardianship was a mistake to thanking him with such unabashed gratefulness.
“I’ve been so worried.” The words poured from her in a wave of relief. “Papa’s had nothing but one failed venture after another, companies that went bankrupt, shares in trading companies that came to nothing. And Brambly—I don’t think there’s anything left to sell. Thank you!”
She laughed again, then rose up on tiptoes to cup his face between her hands, her green eyes sparkling with happiness. His gaze dropped to her full mouth, thinking she might kiss him in her excitement. And very much wanting her to do just that.
“Thank you, Edward, so much!”
For the first time, she spoke his given name, and he cringed. She stared up at him as if he were a knight in shining armor when in reality he was the furthest thing from it.
“Katherine,” he admitted somberly, gently pulling her hands away from his face, “you were one of the obligations.”
Her expression melted into confusion. “What do you mean?”
“When he asked for the guardianship, he implied you were just a child.”
“You’re wrong.” She tugged her hands free from his, her face darkening. “You must have misunderstood.”
Edward’s throat tightened with sympathy. Her father obviously didn’t love her as she believed, and he’d signed her away as easily as all his other possessions, without a second thought of what would become of her. For all the man knew, Edward could have turned her out on the street, forced her into marriage, or shipped her off to Australia. As her guardian, he had the legal right to do any of that, and as a duke, he could take advantage of her in so many other ways to which the law would simply turn a blind eye.
If he didn’t hate the bastard before, he certainly did now.
“I am sorry, Katherine,” he said gently, truly apologetic, “but your father knew exactly what he was doing.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Kate stared at Edward, stunned, her eyes stinging. She refused to believe him. He was wrong. Simply wrong!
She wasn’t naïve. As a father, Phillip Benton had always been more absent than present in her life. He rarely visited, even when her mother was still alive, staying only long enough to collect his allowance before galloping back to London. From her earliest memories, Kate couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever kissed her cheek or told her he was proud of her. And none of that changed after her mother died except that his visits came even less frequently, and not at all once she adamantly refused to give him Brambly last year. It hurt to realize the kind of father she had—absent, lacking in affection, more concerned with money than his family. And it utterly wrenched her heart to know that he’d never wanted her, that he’d married her mother only because she’d gotten with child and because he’d wrongly assumed Brambly would be his.
Yet he’d never abused her, which was more than could be said of some fathers, and only when they argued about Brambly did he raise his voice. When her mother died he’d allowed her to stay on at the farm, where she was happy, instead of making her live with him in London. She would always be grateful for that. He hadn’t taken her independence away then, and she refused to believe he’d do so now.
Especially, she grudgingly admitted, if it meant giving up his connection to Brambly when he thought there was still money to be had from it.
She lifted her chin, uncertain if she were more frustrated with her father or Edward. “Papa would never sign me over to be rid of me.”
His dark eyes grew solemn. “If he cares about you, as you claim—”
“He does.” Certainly, he loved her. He simply had to. He was her father and the only blood family she had left, and the alternative was unbearable. “My father loves me.”
There! She saw it again, that hard narrowing of his eyes for just an instant whenever she mentioned Papa. She frowned. “Why do you—”
“If he cares about you,” he repeated, “perhaps he felt the best situation was to make you my ward. You fall under my protection now, which means I am responsible for you and Brambly.”
Her chest clenched, and for a panicked moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Brambly is a freehold,” she explained slowly, carefully, so there would be no mistake, “owned in my name by special entailment. Under the law, neither you nor my father can sell or mortgage it.”
“True,” he agreed, in the same careful tone, “but under the law, you own only the land. As your guardian, I hold the responsibility for managing the estate.” His quiet words sliced into her like daggers. “Technically, then, Brambly’s mine.”
She shook her head, beating back the waking nightmare engulfing her. “I run Brambly.” Her heart thumped with alarm. “I’ve taken care of the house and the servants since my mother died. And I will not let you take it away from me.”
“I’m not taking it away from you. Your father did.” His jaw clenched against her accusation. “Phillip Benton went bankrupt less than a fortnight ago and signed over all his obligations to me, including you.”
Oh God, no. Her stomach sickened. Bankrupt, and not enough money left to pay his debts. Even if she sold every last piece of furniture in the house…“But he cannot repay you—” She choked, her hand going to her throat as it tightened. “Why would you do such a thing?”
The black flicker in his eyes told her he had no intention of answering that. “Why do you keep defending him?” he accused instead.
“Because he’s my father. He’s protected me fro—”
“He left you alone in an empty house with servants too old to take care of themselves let alone watch over you,” he countered. “He isolated you and forced you to fend for yourself. That’s not protection, Katherine. That’s rejection.”
She stared at him, and in her stunned confusion, she was unable to prevent a single tear of frustration from sliding down her cheek.
His broad shoulders softened. “My apologies for upsetting you.” A touch of regret tinged his voice.
When he reached up to brush the tear from her cheek, she swiped angrily at his hand and shoved it away to wipe at her own tears herself. Blasted man! Why wouldn’t he just leave, and leave her alone?
He grimaced. “But I swear to you that I will protect you.”
He reached for her arm, and she jerked back, gritting her teeth. “And who protects me from you?”
As soon as the words flew from her mouth, she regretted them.
White anger flashed across his face, and there were such shadows behind his eyes it seemed as if a black place had taken his soul. She shivered, unable to break her gaze from his dark eyes and the spell they cast over her even as he took a single step toward her, closing the distance between them.
“Until last year, I was a colonel on the Peninsula.” Each word snapped out in anger. “I pledged my life to protect those of my men.”
With a soft gasp, she retreated a step, but Edward advanced again, once more closing the distance. Her heart pounded so hard that the sound filled her ears.
“In battles so fierce the horses were bloody up to their fetlocks, soldiers deaf from cannon fire, riders so tired they could barely hold their sabers—I fought to keep them alive. And aft
erward, when they lay dying on the field, I still fought to save as many as I could.”
She felt the blood drain from her face as she pictured him in the midst of battle, surrounded by suffering and death, by the confusion and cruelty of war. Those eyes, what horrors they must have witnessed, what hell…
“Why—” Around the choking knot of sudden fear in her throat, she breathed out, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I protected my men, and I’ll damned well protect you.” He leaned toward her, bringing his face level with hers, his eyes blazing like brimstone. “I took responsibility for every death under my command, and for your sake, Miss Benton, you’d best remember that.”
His words weren’t a threat but a warning, an explanation of the man he believed himself to be, and she had the undeniable feeling he’d told her to keep her away.
But she refused to be cowed, certainly not in her own home. Despite the racing of her heart and shortness of breath, she forced herself to ask as evenly as possible, “Is that all you wanted to discuss with me, then, Your Grace?”
He lifted his brow, silently asking, Isn’t that enough?
Scowling in vexation, she clenched her hands into fists, biting back the urge to ask how many men had tried to kill him. She’d never meet a more infuriating, aggravating man, and she couldn’t wait for morning, when he would be gone from her home and, hopefully, from her life.
“Well, then.” She turned toward the door, praying he couldn’t see how her hands trembled. “Good night, Your Grace. As I’m certain you’ll be off before I’ve risen—”
“I am not leaving.”
She froze, her foot stopping in mid-step, her hand on the door. Slowly, she faced him. “There isn’t any point in staying.” She wanted to be very clear that he was no longer wanted here. “That guardianship agreement is a mistake. I will not give up control of my life and home to you or anyone, so there is nothing left to discuss.”
“Oh, we’ve only begun to discuss this,” he drawled. “I’m responsible for ensuring the quality of your living, and I’m not leaving until I’m absolutely certain you’re safe and sound here.”
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