by Kimberly Nee
At worst?
Papi would disown her.
Her belly kinked sharply and a sour taste rose in the back of her throat. How could she have been so stupid? So foolish and impetuous? Papi would never forgive her.
A low sigh bubbled to her lips. She couldn’t even talk to Claudia. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the newlyweds. Besides, Claudia would be horrified and Elena was in no mood to assuage that, either.
She’d made a right mess for herself. And to add to that, she’d have to wait and hope and pray there were no consequences of her night with Bennett.
“Wonderful,” she muttered, letting her eyes close once more.
Unfortunately, her brain refused to let go of her. Images from last night swirled through her mind, only to be interrupted by Bennett’s, “You’re right. I am hardly honorable. You want what I cannot give you. I thought I could, but I was wrong. It’s a chance I simply will not take.”
It wasn’t fair how men could separate actions and feelings, how they could simply play at feeling one way, when they knew deep down, the opposite was true. And now, despite her own warnings to herself, she’d gone and fallen in love with him.
And for what? He didn’t love her. He was far too busy allowing fear to rule him instead. He may have lusted for her, but that was far different from loving her.
Or perhaps he did love her—just not enough to overcome his fear.
“Well, fine,” she muttered, opening her eyes once more to stare up at the canopy, “I hope he and Rosamund are happy, and that he finally gets the heir he so desperately…desperately needs.”
Her voice cracked as the image of Bennett and Rosamund, entangled in each other’s arms, leaped to the forefront of her mind. It hurt enough to make Elena’s heart ache and her eyes sting with fresh tears.
She swiped at those tears with an impatient fist. “Enough. This solves nothing.”
She sat up. Perhaps Conn hadn’t left yet and if he hadn’t, she could offer her services as a chaperone for him and Cordelia. He wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t care. She had to get away from Dunning Court, if only for a little while.
With that, she hurried from her room and offered up a silent prayer of thanks when she found Conn in the library. “Have you changed your mind about going into the village?”
He shook his head. “No, why?”
“I’d like to come with you. I need to look at something other than these walls and those lawns”—she gestured to the windows—“and since I thought Cordelia might be in need of a chaperone—”
Conn’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, Lena? You’re acting odd.”
“Odd?”
He stepped closer. “Were you crying?”
Damn it! Why couldn’t he be more like Galen, who wouldn’t notice her eyes if they fell out of their sockets? She could deny it all she liked, but he would know she was lying and wouldn’t stop until he learned the truth.
“I was. I hit the edge of my doorway in my haste to get here before you left.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her, but to her relief, he stepped back. “Very well, if you say so.” He glanced over her shoulder, to the doorway behind her. “And yes, of course you’re welcome to join us. But, I thought I overhead the others talking about a race that’s to be run later?”
Damn it all, she had forgotten. Of course, Lord Dunning had made the offer before everything went to pieces, so he probably no longer cared if she was there, cheering for him. Never mind that she wasn’t even certain she cared much for cheering him on, either.
No, that wasn’t true. She would go. She would go and sit with the woman who would one day soon be his wife, and she’d fight like mad to not think about that, just as she’d fight like mad to not picture him as he’d been the night before, when he was naked and covering her—
Stop that!
With a low sigh, she looked at Conn. “I don’t suppose I should miss this race, then, should I?”
“It might offend our host.”
“Conn…”
“What?”
She offered up a long look. “Promise me—and I mean promise me—you won’t do anything foolish with Cordelia.”
“Who?” Conn’s eyes went wide with an innocence she didn’t believe for a minute. “Me?”
“Conn!”
“Worry not, little sister.” His grin held more mischief than she’d ever seen before. “I will be an absolute saint where she is concerned. Now go and enjoy screaming like a hoyden and swearing like a sailor, if you are so inclined.”
“Conn!”
His laughter rang through the library as he strolled out, leaving her staring out the window, her thoughts heavy and the notion of swearing like a sailor more than just a passing fancy. Screaming a few oaths would probably help in making her feel better, if only she could find a way to do it without anyone knowing it was her.
…
Heavy gray clouds hung in the sky, promising rain at some point in the day, which was fine with Bennett. Gray. Gloomy. Miserable. They all suited him perfectly.
“Why so quiet this morning?” Shelton asked, breaking through Bennett’s reverie. “Someone have a bit too much wedding cheer yesterday?”
“Something of the sort, yes.”
“We can turn around, you know. The world won’t end if you and Loki don’t run today.”
Bennett shifted in his saddle to look over at Shelton. He certainly couldn’t tell him the truth—that he wanted to kick himself until his leg fell off. Although Shelton would certainly let him know just how much of an idiot he’d been, to do what he did to Elena.
Elena. He fought back a wince. Damn it all, just thinking about her hurt. Every time he closed his eyes, even just to blink, he saw her—beautiful and sensual, everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, right there, in his arms, beneath him, wrapped all around him—
“No,” he managed to grit, shaking his head. “I’ve worked too hard and waited too long for this. I will not back out now.”
“Well, you look as if there is anywhere else in England you’d rather be at the moment.”
Loki’s ears twitched and Bennett swore softly beneath his breath. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“Welcome to the club, Ben,” Shelton told him with a chuckle. “We’ve all done it at some point or other and the cure is always the same. Run your horse. Drink until you can no longer see straight. Find a pretty girl and—”
“You are not exactly helping, you know.”
“I’m not?” Shelton let out a low whistle, “That always seems to work for me. But, very well”—he drew his mare to a halt and twisted to face him—“what terrible mistake did you make this time?”
Bennett hesitated. He and Shelton went back to their days at Cambridge, and normally, he wouldn’t have stopped to think it through before telling him about the previous evening. It wouldn’t be the first time. For some reason, he wasn’t at all certain he should share this particular problem. Elena was not simply another woman and he was not just another carefree bachelor, such as Shelton.
On the other hand, Shelton had been known to offer advice much more useful than to simply jump into bed with someone else, so Bennett drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and said, “Miss Sebastiano.”
Shelton’s eyes widened. “What about Miss Sebastiano?”
Without preamble, Bennett launched into the entire story, and finished with, “And then I left.”
Shelton stared a few seconds longer, then shook his head. “You, my friend, are an utter idiot. I hope you realize that.”
Although Bennett agreed, that didn’t mean he appreciated hearing it. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are. A total and thorough dolt.”
They crested the hill on the approach to the heath. Although Bennett couldn’t see through the trees, he knew Windsor Castle, home of the Queen, was not too far on the other side. Although he’d yet to see Her Majesty anywhere near the heath, it was rumored she would be
in attendance at the race. After all, the race and its course were her babies and this was the first year Loki would be old enough to enter, as one of the few rules were that the horses had to be over six years old to enter.
Which unfortunately left Shelton out until next year’s meet, which was fine with Bennett. Susie was a powerful mare, and would most likely have the stamina needed for a race that consisted of three four-mile heats. Although he was fairly certain Loki would as well, he didn’t know how his gelding would compare against Susie and had no desire to see Shelton grow even more smug than usual.
“I thank you for that concise observation.” Bennett touched his heels to Loki’s sides and the gelding picked up his pace as they entered the track.
“Well, what else do you wish me to say?” Shelton called as he jabbed Susie’s sides and the mare bolted by Bennett. “You are. And you deserve to spend the rest of your life stuck with a woman such as Rosamund Brookstone and regretting every last foolish word you said to the woman you actually love.”
“Love? Who said anything about loving her?”
“Please.” Shelton actually rolled his eyes. “You don’t normally go to pieces like this over skirts. Life would be so much simpler for you if you weren’t so damn stubborn, you know. It’s always been your greatest fault.”
“My greatest—” Bennett scowled as Shelton jabbed his heels into his mare’s sides and Susie bolted.
Bennett gritted his teeth and urged Loki into a trot, and then a full-on gallop. Mud flew from Loki’s powerful strides, flinging up to splatter Bennett’s fawn-colored breeches and white linen shirt. It coated his face and his hair and his hands, even as he crouched low in the saddle and leaned forward.
Susie sailed on ahead as if on wings, also coating Shelton in mud, and he just threw back his head and roared like a primal beast facing the elements. At the end of the first lap, he was still a good half mile ahead of Loki, but Bennett smiled as he rounded the first turn of the second lap. Susie was tiring. Bit by bit, she slowed and it was Bennett’s turn to laugh and be smug as he roared past Susie and left her and her rider in his mud.
He slapped Loki hard on the neck, sending mud in all directions. “Good show, old boy. You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”
Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Bennett would swear the horse not only understood him, but answered him by lowering his head and thundering even faster. At the end of the second mile, Bennett eased up on the reins and sat back in the saddle. Loki slowed to a trot and finished the course that way, and Bennett couldn’t help but smirk as Shelton drew up next to him. “It’s a good thing she won’t be eligible for another year, old man. She’s not quite ready.”
“Next year, you’ll be the one eating my dirt,” Shelton replied and although he smiled, Bennett knew him well enough to see the malice in that smile. Shelton didn’t like to lose, no matter how fairly and squarely it was, and he always extracted payback.
That was a worry for another time.
“Why am I such a dolt?” he asked. “Because I’d rather not leave a grieving widow behind? I need an heir, not said grieving widow, so love is out of the question.”
“No. You are a dolt because you refuse to see that you might—just might—be wrong about that supposed curse you are so fixated upon.
“And if your bride—whoever she happens to be—falls in love with you?”
“It won’t happen.” Bennett was firm as they ambled away from the racecourse. “Because once my wife conceives, she will remain here and I will stay in London.”
“And if that child is a girl?”
Bennett gritted his teeth, although it was a perfectly reasonable question. “Then I will return as necessary in order to sire a boy. And if there are none, then so be it because I’ll have done everything in my power to secure the line. It’s out of my hands once it’s out of my body.”
“And you plan to do everything by rote? No passion. No fire. Just…mechanics? With Ros of all people? Everyone knows she has a cashbox where her heart should be.”
“And how do you know I’ll choose her?”
Shelton snorted. “She’s the only one suitable for you. Miss Chandler is too squat. Miss Cordelia stutters. No man in his right mind would prefer Miss Fielding over any one of them. So, Lady Ros it is.”
Bennett absently ran his thumb along the leather in his hand. “She makes the most sense, cashbox or not. And in all honestly, I’d prefer the cashbox. It’s safer for her that way.”
“Safer? How do you figure?”
“It crushed my father when my mother died. And every time he looked at me, I was sure he saw her,” Bennett replied in a careful, controlled voice. “And when he died…well, I was crushed. We know my fate, Edward. I know it. And I will not leave behind crushed people. If all she loves is the Dunning coffers, that is fine with me. I originally thought I’d rather not marry a woman who was only interested in my family’s money, but as the situation grows more dire, I find it doesn’t matter nearly as much as I thought it did.”
“It’s all bloody rumor, Ben.” Shelton steered Susie over so the horses were only feet apart. “There are no such thing as curses.”
“Then tell me how my forebears never lived to see old age.”
“Rotten luck. That’s all. The third earl, he crossed a bloody pirate, Ben. Two of them, in fact. And your father, well, he was never the picture of robust health to begin with and that probably came about after your mother died. As for the others?” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never heard any stories and you’ve never said. But I find the notion of this curse ridiculous. There’s no proof.”
“No proof? There is a trail of men dead before their time. There’s your proof. And my time is running out and if I don’t want everything my family has ever worked for to be seized and the people for whom I am responsible turned out of their homes, I need to secure my legacy. Even if I had the time to fall in love, I’d never break her heart that way!”
Shelton’s forehead wrinkled. “Break whose heart? You said it as if you have someone in particular in mind. Miss Sebastiano, perhaps?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Ben, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never spilled what you just told me, the way you just told me. You’ve never been bothered by leaving a woman’s bed. Not once. So, if you don’t love her, this all makes no sense. But, if you ask me, she would probably be wonderful for you and you could use the spirit, the fire, that she carries in her.”
Before he could even think about it, even allow himself to think about it, Bennett shook his head. “Even if I were to consider it, Ed, I’ve most likely ruined everything with her.”
“Well, you did muck things up nicely—”
Bennett glowered at him. “Thank you, Shelton. I needed to hear that.”
“You didn’t let me finish. You mucked them up, but that doesn’t mean you cannot unmuck them as well.”
Bennett chewed on that for a few minutes. “But what if I’m not wrong about the curse?”
“Ah, but what if you are? And either way, I’d rather have fifteen minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of Rosamund Brookstone.”
Bennett bit back a smile. Elena had said something similar. And perhaps they were both right. Perhaps he was being overly morbid and in doing so, making a mistake even more terrible than he’d originally thought.
He smiled as he followed Shelton off the track. The races would be starting soon and when they were over, he had every intention of cornering Elena and groveling until she forgave him.
Then he would love her until she went mad from it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Little by little, other people made their way to the course, and Elena managed to smile as she took her seat beside Lady Rosamund. As she sat, her heart hammered against her ribs, which was silly, since the lady couldn’t possibly know what happened with Bennett. Still, Elena knew, and she also knew that she now sat beside the future Countess of Dunning, which was enough to ma
ke her stomach hurt.
“Have you ever seen a race such as this?” Christine asked, gesturing to the track.
“No. We have nothing like this back home.”
“Oh, you are in for a treat. We wait all year for this—and this is the first time Lord Dunning’s horse is eligible.”
Eleanor leaned closer. “I’ve heard tell the Queen herself may even make an appearance.”
Elena knew she was supposed to be impressed by this, but the most she could muster up was a mild smile and an even milder, “How nice.”
The riders began to appear and she found herself holding her breath as her gaze landed on Bennett. Although it had only been several hours, it felt like a lifetime since she’d last seen him and despite her layers of hurt and anger, she couldn’t deny he still took her breath away.
Lady Rosamund elbowed her sharply in the ribs. “There he is!”
“I see him.” Elena resisted the urge to rub her side and instead clasped her hands together.
The clouds parted as the riders ambled their way onto the track. As the sun shone down, it glinted off Bennett’s dark hair. For one maddening moment, she wanted to run down to him and try one last time to convince him his future wasn’t etched into stone, to convince him that the previous night didn’t have to be the end for them. She wanted to tell him how she felt, to throw her arms around him, kiss him for luck, and tell him all would be well, that he just had to learn to throw caution to the wind.
It was neither the time nor the place and what if he just pushed her away again?
So, she remained where she was, listening to the buzz of chatter all around her without hearing a thing. Rosamund rattled on, gossiping about this person or that rider and after a few minutes, Elena wanted to throttle her into silence. Bennett would go mad, having to listen to such mindless blather, but that was no longer her worry. He was on his own.
She fought down a sigh. The track seemed immense to her and Bennett looked so very far away. She tried to imagine what it would be like when the race began. Would it be noisy? Or would they be as reserved as only the English could be? Would they shout and stamp their feet or remain outwardly calm?
