Suitors and Sabotage(12)

“Too true.” Ben shrugged and dropped onto the window seat that was similar to the one in his room. It was, perhaps, the only similarity; this chamber was larger and much more lavishly appointed. “Well, tomorrow is another day in which Mr. Turner might still provide fodder for a lively discussion. The tutelage was not for naught.”

“It felt like a waste.… Not the tutelage, the evening. If I hadn’t seen that you were entertaining Miss Imogene, I would have called the night a complete loss. By the by, what were you talking about? She seemed fascinated. Extolling my virtues?” Ernest raised his brows in a hopeful manner.

“Mother and Father’s Italian journeys. Might be an idea for a bridal trip.”

“Oh.” Ernest huffed a sigh as he unbuttoned his vest; he stared without focus above Ben’s head. “Miss Imogene is of a retiring disposition, Ben. She’s not a traveler. We can hunker into Musson House in harmony. Not stir beyond Chotsdown.”

“That might be to your taste, Ernest, but I got the impression that Miss Imogene would enjoy a wider view of the world.”

“No, no. You are mistaken. Miss Imogene was quite unhappy in London. Mentioned several times how much she preferred to be at home—in the country.”

Ben frowned. He was not mistaken in Miss Imogene’s interest. She had leaned forward with rapt attention, asked about the ruins in Rome, the canals of Venice, his parents’ collections of paintings and sculptures—where they had been found, what was their condition, what subjects were depicted. The shyness from which she usually suffered was hardly evident. In fact, they had become so involved in their discourse that it had taken a nudge from Miss Emily to pull Miss Imogene out of her reverie.

Ben thought it likely that his brother misunderstood the nature of Miss Imogene’s desire to stay in the country. A bashful character would not enjoy the squeezes of London balls and soirees, but a Continental journey with a husband at her side—well, that would be an entirely different matter.

Ernest became very still. “I have no cause for concern … do I?” He lowered his gaze.

“About what?”

Ernest continued to stare, his jaw tightened.

“What is going on in that pea-brain of yours, brother?”

“Miss Imogene hung on your every word. Don’t think I did not notice.”

“You just said that the evening would have been a waste had I not entertained your lady-fair.”

“Yes. But she has never looked at me in such a way.”

“Ernest, Ernest, Ernest. I helped rescue her dog and saved her castle from destruction. Of course she is kindly disposed to me. It was a traumatic afternoon, and you should admire her ability to step past it so quickly. She is impressive; no vapors, no histrionics.… Still, worry not, brother dear, she was not looking at me in that way.”

“She was quite animated when you spoke,” Ernest said with careful enunciation.

“True. But a shared experience does create a bond.”

“A brother-sister bond?”

“Indeed.” Ben nodded, happy that Ernest was coming around. “Be her hero tomorrow, and you’ll be all set.”

“How?”

“Ernest, you are so unimaginative! Let’s see. Offer to carry her art supplies.”

“Hardly heroic.”

“True. But I don’t recommend throwing Jasper down a well so that you might rescue him or setting the manor alight so that you might carry Miss Imogene from the flames. Perhaps jump into the fray when Mrs. Chively offers her daughter a particularly snide remark … which she does on a regular basis.”

“That’s not heroic, either.”

“Really, Ernest.” Ben shook his head in frustration. “I have little doubt that Miss Imogene would simply appreciate someone coming to her defense. As you must have observed, the Beeswangers are far kinder to Miss Imogene than the Chivelys.”

“Yes I did. Perhaps they are too practical. Don’t value her artistic abilities. Yes, I will talk to Miss Imogene about John Turner tomorrow. Prove that I, unlike they, appreciate creativity.”

“Yes, yes, excellent idea.” Ben rose to his feet and slapped his brother on the back as he headed for the door. “However, I think you will impress Miss Imogene more if you call the gentleman Joseph Turner instead.”

*

IT IS DIFFICULT to maintain an air of indifference while one is rushing down a hallway in desperate need to talk to one’s closest friend. It was just as well that Imogene was not trying to deceive those around her but simply to maintain her privacy. A privacy that was about to come to an end … as soon as she and Emily put good English oak between them and the rest of the household.

Imogene could hardly contain her disquiet; she needed Emily’s opinion.

Had she noticed? Had her friend seen the way Ben looked at her?

Imogene was certain … almost certain … that Ben’s interest in her was not of a brotherly nature. Had he not stared at her throughout dinner? Had he not engaged her in a discourse of which she, and she alone, could be a part? Had he not reached out to touch her as they sat at the table? And then he had split his dessert, offering the sweet, delectable seed cake to her and Emily when Imogene declared it her favorite.

How could he flirt so openly with her when Ernest was watching from the other end of the table? It was a most uncomfortable situation—made worse by the fact that she quite enjoyed Ben’s company.