Benedict's Challenge (Regency Club Venus 3)

by Carole Mortimer

  The parting of her lips allowed him to deepen the kiss. The two of them were breathing heavily as her arms moved up over Benedict’s shoulders and her fingers became entangled in the hair at his nape and she held him closer still.

  His hands first moved to gently cup her abused bottom, fingertips softly stroking before they moved upward to caress the slenderness of her back.

  Chloe broke the kiss to gasp, her neck arching back and her eyes closing, when one of those large and slightly calloused hands moved forward to cup and squeeze the bareness of her breast against her camisole.

  She had never known pleasure like this, so hot it was as if flames licked against her flesh. She longed for Benedict’s lips to touch and taste her with that same fire. For them both to be naked on the bed as they kissed and touched, learning and pleasuring each other’s bodies until those flames grew so high, they consumed them both.

  “Benedict…!” Chloe cried out as he pushed her camisole up and out of the way, and the moist heat of Benedict’s mouth closed over one of her nipples.

  “Let me,” he pleaded raggedly, his breath hot against her swollen flesh. “For God’s sake, let me at least have this!”

  Chloe had no idea what Benedict meant by that, but she would happily give him all that she had to give. Whatever Benedict wanted from her, he could have. Anything. Everything.

  She arched her back, pushing her breasts forward as, with a groan, Benedict once again suckled her nipple. He sucked and licked that sensitive bud until it was full and throbbing, before moving to lavish that same attention on its twin.

  Benedict had never tasted such sweet and succulent flesh, and Chloe’s pink nipples became a deeper rose as he continued to suckle and lave them with the rough moistness of his tongue for long and enjoyable minutes.

  By which time his aching cock was hard and leaking pre-cum inside his drawers, wanting more, demanding he take more. Demanding that he take all Chloe had to give. That he suck her dry and take all her goodness for himself.

  Benedict had never before experienced such feelings of possessiveness for any woman. Not for anyone or anything, truth be told. It shook him now to realize how deeply that possessiveness went, to know he was capable of harming anyone who tried to take Chloe away from him. Quite what—

  Benedict tensed as a knock sounded briskly on the bedchamber door.

  Chapter Six

  “Yes?” Chloe responded, but her heated gaze remained locked on Benedict, her cheeks flushed, her lips red and swollen from the kisses and intimacies they had shared. Some of her hair had escaped the pearl pins and now cascaded in loose curls down the length of her spine.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable sitting down there in the dining room on my own, with only a silent butler for company,” Jimmy answered her dryly.

  “I will join you shortly,” Chloe assured.

  “Do you know where His Lordship is?”

  Chloe gave Benedict a panicked look. “I— Yes, I— He—”

  “I will join you in a few minutes, Jimmy,” Benedict cut across her stumbling reply, while once again noting Jimmy had forgotten to use his Cockney accent.

  There was a brief pause. “Oh. Right. I’ll see you both downstairs, then.”

  Benedict waited until the younger man had gone down the hallway before moving. He lifted Chloe and carefully placed her back on the bed so as to cause her the least discomfort, before rising to his feet.

  He kept his gaze averted, uncertain of his own control if he should look at Chloe’s half-clothed body again. “Will you answer one question for me, and then we shall deal with the rest at a more convenient time?”

  Chloe ceased straightening her clothing to gaze up at him warily. “What question?”

  “What is your surname?”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Do I really have to tell you that?”

  “You do, yes.” Benedict had to know, was desperate to know. Not only that Chloe was not in any way already committed to another man, but also, because of her age, if she could possibly be the missing niece his friend the Duke of Blackborne now sought in France.

  She breathed agitatedly for several long seconds. “Gordon,” she bit out abruptly. “My surname is Gordon,” she choked emotionally.

  Benedict turned to stare at her in shock. “You denied being Lord Gordon’s wife or his daughter.”

  “Because I am not.” Her face paled even at the suggestion of it. “He was the older half brother of my father, but I had never met him before my parents’ funeral two years ago and afterward, when he became my guardian.” She swallowed before adding dully, “I wish I still did not know of his existence or had ever set eyes on him.”

  Benedict knew there was so much more to be added to that statement. But it would have to wait; otherwise, the impatient Jimmy might decide to come upstairs looking for them again.

  But her answer did at least reassure him that Chloe was not Blackborne’s missing niece. Gabriel’s sister, Elizabeth, had died in childbirth, and the father of her child had been incarcerated in a French asylum for these past nineteen years. That did not at all tally with Chloe’s parents having died two years ago.

  “The wounds on your bottom and legs are healing nicely and no longer in need of a dressing,” Benedict told her evenly. “I will leave this jar of salve.” He held it up before placing it on the dressing table. “That way, you can administer it yourself to the wounds that pain you the most.”

  Chloe knew that Jimmy’s interruption meant her and Benedict’s time of intimacy was now over. The coolness of his expression as he looked down the length of his nose at her and his dismissal of her needing further medical attention warned her that intimacy between them was unlikely to occur again.

  “Of course,” she accepted heavily.

  He nodded tersely. “I will now go downstairs and wait with Jimmy for you to join us for dinner.”

  Chloe’s lashes lowered so that Benedict should not see the hurt in her eyes caused by his coldness and distance. “I will be down shortly.”

  “See that you are,” he bit out. “One of the ways to speed up your recovery is to ensure you eat a healthy diet.”

  Chloe believed that Benedict must now, with his knowledge of who and what she was to Lord Gordon, be very anxious for her to heal so that he could return her to her guardian. He had not said as much, of course, but they both knew he had no right to keep her here now that he knew she had a legal guardian who might decide to accuse him of kidnapping his ward.

  Chloe knew Lord Gordon well enough to realize exactly what a vindictive man he was.

  “A trouble shared is a trouble halved?”

  Benedict roused himself to look up from where he had been staring broodingly into the brandy he swirled about his glass. Now that dinner was over Benedict and Jimmy were seated in wingback armchairs either side of the warm fire in his study.

  Dinner, despite the deliciousness of the food, had been a quiet and tense affair. There had been little conversation beyond “Could you please pass the salt” and “Could I please have the mustard after you.” Both remarks had been made by Jimmy, the first acknowledged and performed by Chloe with a smile, the second by Benedict.

  Chloe had excused herself and hurried from the room as soon as they had finished dessert, after which the two gentlemen had retired to Benedict’s study to enjoy a glass of brandy.

  Except Benedict had then fallen into this brooding silence. “It is not my problem to share,” he finally answered Jimmy.

  The younger man glanced up toward the ceiling. “Miss Chloe?”

  “Yes.”

  “She seems like a very sweet and polite young lady.”

  Benedict almost snorted at that description of the woman who had sat half naked on his thighs earlier and deliberately rubbed her pussy against the hardness of his cock. Even now, he occasionally breathed in a waft of her arousal, no doubt absorbed by his evening trousers.

  “She is polite, yes,” he allowed.
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  The younger man eyed him speculatively. “Has she said any more about Lord Gordon and why he might have beaten her?”

  Benedict grimaced. “I now know the man is her guardian.”

  “And?”

  Benedict frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The younger man scowled. “Being her guardian doesn’t give the bastard the right to mistreat her.”

  “No,” Benedict acknowledge grimly. “That legality does, however, prevent anyone else from having the right to interfere in his treatment of his ward, good or bad.”

  “I still say a visit from the lads might make him reconsider that opinion,” Jimmy scorned. “Most men who beat on a defenseless woman are cowards at heart,” he added with disgust.

  Benedict agreed. But he also knew that Gordon’s guardianship of Chloe would make it very difficult for anyone to be able to help her. Her being only nineteen years in age meant she would not come of age for another two years, and even when she did, Gordon would still be her closest male relative, and so still effectively her guardian.

  At least, Benedict assumed it did…

  Interestingly Chloe said she hadn’t met the man until after her parents died and she had been informed by Lord Gordon that he was then her guardian. But what if Chloe had another close male relative with just as much right to claim guardianship of her?

  He was perhaps grasping at straws, but it would certainly be worth investigating.

  “You just thought of something,” Jimmy said knowingly.

  He straightened in his chair. “It’s enough for now that your friends are keeping an eye on Lord Gordon and will alert us if he comes anywhere near here.” Benedict would write and ask Julius Soames to investigate Henry Gordon’s right to guardianship over Chloe. He eyed Jimmy speculatively. “It would seem that Chloe is not the only one keeping secrets?”

  Jimmy gave such a start at the sudden change of subject, he almost spilled some of the brandy from his glass. “What do you mean?” he prompted once he had successfully managed to prevent the spillage.

  This evening, Jimmy, having been assisted by Benedict’s valet, was dressed in one of Benedict’s evening suits and white shirts, with a cravat tied neatly at his throat. His dark hair was brushed back from his face, and he smelled of the sandalwood soap he must have used when he bathed before dinner.

  Even with two bandaged arms, Jimmy was a far cry from the ill-dressed and filthy young man from the slums Benedict had first met nine days ago. “Your appearance is every inch that of a gentleman this evening, James.” He noted how, once again, the other man flinched at his use of that formal name. “Also, your vocabulary and accent appear to have undergone a metamorphosis.”

  “Anyone of minimum intelligence can parrot the way you toffs dress and talk,” Jimmy sneered.

  Benedict took no offence at the remark. “But most of them would not have the intelligence to have voiced that intent so eloquently.”

  The other man scowled. “Don’t see things that aren’t there.”

  He gave Jimmy a reassuring smile. “I have no intention of intruding upon your privacy. Just know that if you ever did wish to talk to me, I would be only too willing to listen.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Jimmy put down his brandy glass and rose to his feet. “In the meantime, I’ll wish you a good night.” He bowed abruptly before striding purposefully from the room.

  Benedict released a heavy breath. So far this evening, he seemed to have offended both his guests in his attempt to intrude into secrets they would rather remained known only to themselves.

  He could only hope that tomorrow would be a better day.

  It wasn’t.

  Benedict came down to breakfast the following morning to be informed by Carlton that “Mister Brown removed his belongings to the stables earlier this morning, and he has requested to now take his meals with the other servants.”

  To add insult to injury, a slightly awed maid came into the breakfast room a few minutes later to tell him that “Miss Chloe is feeling very tired and intends to spend the day in her bedchamber.”

  The disappearance of Jimmy, and Chloe’s avoidance of his company, now meant that Benedict could spend most of today with Beatrix.

  That did not, however, prevent Benedict from feeling slightly put out by the two of them having decided to take matters into their own hands and arranged the situation so that they avoided spending time in his company.

  Chapter Seven

  “Who is the young man I have seen working in the stables these past few days?”

  Benedict strolled across the room to where Beatrix stood looking out one of the windows in her sitting room.

  She turned to him. “I do not remember seeing him here before.”

  Because Jimmy had not been on the estate until Benedict brought him with him from London three days ago. As for Beatrix having observed the other man working in the stables… In the past two days, Jimmy had ignored all advice and had set about helping the grooms with some of the lighter work. He had at least kept the bandages strapped about his forearms as added support.

  Benedict’s one attempt yesterday to tell the other man how reckless that behavior was had resulted in several angry words being exchanged between the two of them, and they’d had no conversation at all since then.

  Chloe had also continued to keep to her bedchamber, and her meals were all delivered to her there.

  It had allowed Benedict to continue to spend time with Beatrix, but he was unhappy with the circumstances that allowed him to do so.

  “He came with me from London,” Benedict answered Beatrix.

  She arched dark brows. “You brought a stable hand with you all the way from London when there are surely many local lads whose family would welcome the money from their employment here?”

  He grimaced. “Jimmy is not a stable hand but one of my patients. I brought him because he is not yet healed from injuries he received. But now that he is here, he insists upon working in order to earn his board and lodgings.”

  Beatrix turned back to once again look down toward the stables. “He seems vaguely familiar.”

  Benedict’s interest sharpened. “He does?”

  “Mm.” She nodded. “You said his name was Jimmy?”

  “Jimmy Brown. But I have a feeling his first name is more likely to be James.” He was more convinced of that than ever. “And the Brown part is, in all probability, a complete fabrication.”

  Beatrix chewed on her bottom lip. “As you know I had only a few weeks of a Season before…circumstances took that away from me. But this man James,” she continued firmly. “He has the look of an older gentleman I met during that time.”

  “Which gentleman?”

  “Let me think.” She frowned in concentration. “We were introduced.” Her brow cleared. “Ah, I believe his name was Adrian Metcalf, or something similar.”

  Benedict tried to think if he knew anyone by that name. “Can you possibly mean Adrian Metford, the Earl of Ipswich?”

  Beatrix’s expression brightened. “That’s the one!” She sobered. “I remember him because he was so much older than me but nevertheless, his hands wandered as we danced together.”

  “You should have told me.” Benedict felt saddened that Beatrix eschewed any social interaction for many years, but he did not appreciate learning all these years after her last foray into that company that Ipswich had dared to touch her inappropriately.

  She chuckled. “I might have been very young, but I still managed to put him in his place, never fear.”

  Benedict could believe that. Beatrix might be slight of build, but she had always had a sharp tongue.

  But was it possible Jimmy was somehow related to Ipswich? Jimmy was much younger, of course, Ipswich possibly aged in his fifties to Jimmy’s midtwenties, but…

  Benedict studied Jimmy through new eyes. Dark and curly hair in need of a cut. Classical features, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a strong jaw. Jimmy was no longer wearing the finer clothes Bene
dict had given him, but now wore heavy corduroy trousers and a tweed jacket, along with a dark work shirt. But despite that, there was still that air of nobility about him. And yes, also a definite resemblance to Ipswich, now Beatrix had mentioned it.

  From what Benedict recalled, Adrian Metford had inherited the title of earl from his brother ten years ago. They had both sat in the House for that same amount of time, but Benedict had never particularly liked him. The man was too brash and opinionated against those less wealthy and privileged than himself, and he made no effort to hide his disapproval of Benedict’s medical care of the poor. Lazy good for nothings was how the older man had once described those people who ended up incarcerated in the poorhouse or worse, with little or no hope for their future.

  No, Benedict did not like Ipswich, but Beatrix’s comment might be helpful in identifying who Jimmy really was.

  “I do not believe I have seen that young lady before either.”

  Benedict frowned his puzzlement. “What young lady?”

  “The one now in conversation with Mr. Brown.”

  Benedict leveled his narrowed gaze to where he could now see Chloe down in the stable yard talking to Jimmy.

  “Should you be doing that?” Chloe voiced her concern at seeing Jimmy wielding a pitchfork to pile clean straw into an open stall.

  He straightened to lean his elbow on top of the handle of that implement. “Gossip is that Miss Chloe has kept to her room these past two days and nights,” he taunted.

  Her mouth twisted. “Gossip is called that for a reason. That reason being because it is very often inaccurate.”

  Jimmy grinned. “But not on this point?”

  “No,” Chloe conceded with a sigh. “I believe the two of us are behaving as extremely rude and ungrateful guests after His Lordship was so kind as to remove us both from London and bring us here with him.”

  Jimmy’s grin faded, and he shrugged. “I forgot my place for a brief time, is all.”