In the Arms of a Marquess(23)

“You have not brought Mrs. Josephs, I see.”

“What do I need with a companion when I have your company?”

“I hardly need enumerate the reasons.”

“When does the party begin?”

“In two days.”

“Until then I will play least-in-sight and no one will even know I have been here but you.”

“And the servants. And the villagers who hear it from the servants. You are being unwise, my dear.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice was brittle. “I don’t care if my reputation is ruined and I never marry. Does that satisfy you?”

“Not if I am the reason for it, however innocently.” He moved to the sidebar and poured himself a glass of claret. “Styles is coming.”

The color drained from her cheeks. “How lovely. It will be a pleasure to see him, and in any case if I find the company tiresome I shall simply dash back to London, if I wish.”

“Constance—”

“No.” She came to him, hands outstretched to grasp his. “Do not let us be bothered by anything. You are the single spot of sanity in my life, and I shan’t allow you to ruin that.”

Ben studied her face, the beauty who had awaited her first season with feverish joy because during it she would finally marry the man she had been betrothed to since birth. The man she had adored as only a warmhearted, sentimental girl could, and whose life ended in flames mere weeks before the wedding.

“Fate is a wretched master, is it not, Ben?” she whispered as though reading his thoughts. “Aha, now I have made you smile, although I am not certain why. But I am glad of it. I don’t think I have seen that in weeks.”

“I suspect that is not true, but I will not argue the point.” He drew away and set down his glass. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to write a note to your Mrs. Josephs, and to instruct Samuel and the carriage to convey her hither. Will she come in the middle of the night?”

“The middle of the night?” Constance laughed. “I thought you wished to fend off gossip.”

Ben smiled again and went to the door. “I will see you at dinner.”

“You will be weary of my fidgets by the time the others arrive,” she said behind him. “Weary of your responsibility to me.”

“Never, my dear.”

Ben had recently made the rounds of the estate during harvest time. But he did so again, now without his steward, glad to be abroad and his mind occupied. Constance rode alongside the first day, but after that remained within, reading, she claimed.

He left the arrangements for his guests to his housekeeper, only conferring with his gamekeeper to assure that the armory was straightened, the fowling pieces cleaned and polished, the dogs well rested. It was a peculiar comfort to play his lordly role, despite the familiar tension that always accompanied a charade like the one he now orchestrated. But he might as well provide the gentlemen with a bit of sport while he got what he sought from them.

Rising early, he took Kali out to the river in the chill morning, then back along the inland route across newly cleared fields. As he approached the house, a traveling coach trundled down the drive.

Ben pulled off his gloves and hat as he mounted the mansion’s front steps. A gentleman and lady stood in the foyer, removing their coats, footmen seeing to the luggage about them.

“Well, well, Doreé,” Nathans blustered, cheeks red. “Splendid place you have here.”

Ben bowed. “Welcome, Lord Nathans.” He turned to the man’s wife. “Lady Nathans.”

The baroness narrowed her emerald eyes and extended a lily-white hand.

“Lord Doreé,” she purred through bow-shaped lips, short chestnut curls framing a face accustomed to being admired. “We are delighted to be here.”

Ben bowed over her fingers. “The honor is all mine, ma’am.” He turned to his butler. “Mr. Scott, have tea set out in the blue parlor, please.”

Nathans peered about the broad-ceilinged foyer, bending his neck to the dome above, frescoed with Baroque figures of Greek gods—Zeus with Hera at his side, flanked by a warlike Ares, and a graceful Pallas Athena amidst opulent clouds. Years earlier Jack had seen to restorations. Despite their father’s obsession, no hint of Brahma or Shiva could now be found in the hallowed halls of Fellsbourne.

Ben looked at Lady Nathans. Her sharp, underfed gaze was trained upon him.

“May I offer you refreshment after your long journey?” he said, allowing his gaze to slip to the well-filled bodice of her traveling gown. Her ruby lips crept into a cat’s smile.

Nathans swiveled around. “Just the thing, Doreé. Don’t mind if we do. Splendid lodgings you have here, I say. Splendid. Positively top drawer.”

“Forgive me,” Ben said mildly, “but I have just now come in from riding and must do away with my dust. Samuel will see you to the parlor.” He gestured toward the footman. Nathans followed, his lady sliding Ben a half-lidded glance before taking her husband’s arm and moving off.

Ben released a weary breath. It seemed too easy. Marcus Crispin’s business partner had a wife looking for mischief. He needn’t have invited them all here. He probably could have gotten the information he sought in a single night in London. But that was not how he intended to pursue matters now. He hadn’t operated in that manner since his uncle was still alive.