Suitors and Sabotage(9)

Imogene did not regret finding solace in his arms—not at all. She had needed consoling, and Mr. Benjamin had provided it; it had felt natural. And rather pleasant. He had smelled earthy and manly and … yes, indeed, quite pleasant. Her heart started to beat faster with the memory.

Surprisingly, she was comfortable in his presence … and charmed. She wanted to talk with him, understand him better and—stranger still—have him understand her. She was filled with excitement, not fear, when he turned his eyes in her direction. It was a most unusual state to be in, something that she had never experienced before. Something she rather liked.

And as these thoughts raced through her mind, Imogene did her best not to regret that Emily had taken over the conversation, leaving her with an inexplicable longing.





chapter 3


In which Ben inadvertently interferes with Ernest’s wooing

Stepping across the threshold into the somewhat small but well-lit bedroom to which he had been assigned, Ben yanked off his starched neck-cloth with grubby hands. The long strip of white linen, which had been expertly tied, was now spattered with dirt. “I do apologize, Matt,” he said to his valet as he dropped it into the man’s waiting hand. The mess would require a fair amount of labor to see it returned to its former glory, but at least it was salvageable. His coat on the other hand … “Is there any hope for this?” He shucked the coat off his shoulders and passed it to his man as well.

“Of course, sir.” Matt’s doubtful tone belied his assurance. “Well, I will do my best. You will need it—can’t get by on one coat. What would our hosts think?”

Ben smiled at Matt’s horror. His valet was a young man and fairly new to the job, and yet he was traditional in his views—taking pride in the manner and style of the gentlemen he attended.

“Is my brother dressed for dinner?” Ben asked as he pulled off his dirty vest and shirt before leaning over the pitcher and bowl. He scrubbed at the grime on his hands and then washed his face.

“Indeed,” said a new voice. “Ready and waiting.”

Ben turned to watch Ernest enter wearing a charcoal dress coat with a contrasting vest of vermilion; his neck-cloth was tied in a formal oriental knot, and his hessians shone.

“Well, well, doing it up proud.” Ben nodded. “That should impress.”

“You think so? I am uncertain. I seem to have her father’s interest more than hers.”

Smiling, Ben turned back to his ablutions. He knew that the her was none other than Miss Imogene Chively—who had risen in his estimation just this afternoon. “I was rather captivated by your Miss Chively today, Ernest. She forgot to be shy when the floor of the castle caved in. Showed a great deal of character while trying to get her dog out. Yes, I can see what appeals to you after all.”

“There, now are you satisfied?”

“Yes, I will concede this was not the fool’s errand I had labeled it. I will support your decision in the face of any objection from Sir Andrew.”

“It wasn’t Grandfather I was worried about, but Grandmother.”

“Oh, I don’t think she will remain disgruntled when she meets Miss Chively. There is a winning way about your young lady that I think will shine through and sway Grandmother.”

“And she is lovely, isn’t she? Admit it now, Ben.”

“Yes, I will concede that as well. But, really, you can hardly fault my doubt. Until today, I never saw her eyes or her face. She was always looking at the ground.”

“She is shy.”

“Yes, of that there is no doubt, and because of it, you will have to sparkle with wit to overcome that natural tendency. She definitely has a great interest in art and quite the talent. I’m rather envious of her ability.” Which was, in truth, a gross understatement. “Now, let’s see … hmm, do you know of Turner?”

“Who?”

Tossing his towel onto the mattress of the four-poster bed, Ben accepted a clean shirt from Matt. “Joseph Turner. He’s quite a famous artist, Ernest. Really, you have to have heard of him.”

“Even I’ve heard of him, sir,” Matt commented while helping Ben into his vest.

“There you go. See! Even Matt has heard of him.”

An excessive amount of silence emanated from the other side of the room.

“What?” Ben asked, looking toward his brother while doing up his buttons.

“Stonework?” Ernest shook his head and then raked his fingers through his hair.

“I beg your pardon?”

“His stonework? In the castle. Don’t take down the castle, Mr. Chively,” Ernest said in a high voice likely meant to represent Ben—though it sounded nothing like him. “The stonework is too important.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? The purpose of my comment was to keep Miss Chively happy—you would never have gotten so much as a smile from her if she was mourning the loss of her beloved ruins.” Ben tugged down the corners of his sapphire vest, affixed the fob of his watch, and then dropped it into his pocket. “So now, not only will the castle not come down, but I will see that it rises from the ashes. Miss Chively will be ever so grateful.”

“To you.”

“To your brother, Ernest. I’m standing in your shadow.” He snorted a laugh. “I barely exist to her father.” Wrapping a clean band of linen around his neck, Ben tied the neck-cloth in a simple knot.