The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(58)

“Did you now?” The carriage lamp revealed that Ambrose Bennett’s eyes were a golden color and that they were regarding her acutely. “How singular.”

She was relieved to hear curiosity, rather than disdain, in the man’s deep voice. Now that she had a chance to examine him, she could see a likeness between the brothers.

Both were tall, lean, and starkly handsome (her Bennett was, of course, the handsomer of the two). Both also had an aura of trustworthiness: big men who made one feel protected rather than intimidated. She guessed that Ambrose had some two decades on his brother, the veins of silver in his dark hair adding to his distinguished aspect.

“Singular, that’s me.” Belatedly, she realized that her cap had fallen to the carriage seat, and her hair was tumbling pell-mell down her shoulders. “On top of tricking you and ruining your hat, I hope you’ll also pardon my appearance.”

“There’s naught to pardon.” A hint of a smile was in Ambrose Bennett’s eyes, making him almost as handsome as his brother. “But may I ask…what is that moving in your pocket?”

“Oh. That’s Swift Nick Nevison.” She unbuttoned the flap, and the ferret bounded out onto the carriage seat, nose twitching and eyes blinking in his furry mask.

“Say hello to Bennett’s brother,” she told him.

Swift Nick raised his head, lowering it in a distinct nod.

A muffled sound came from Ambrose. “You brought a ferret…to a breakin…”

“If we’re done with the circus tricks,” Bennett said cuttingly, “I need to speak with Miss Todd.”

The chill in his tone snaked down her spine. His gaze was unreadable, his old armor in place. Her fingernails bit into her palms.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Ambrose said soberly. “My partners are following behind and will convey me to my residence.” So saying, he opened the window, instructing the driver to stop.

He got out, and Bennett said to him, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Will do. Miss Todd?”

She tore her anxious gaze from Bennett to look at the other man. “Yes?”

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Ambrose Bennett said gently.

To her surprise, he took her cold hand in his gloved one and kissed it. He gave her a slight squeeze before letting go, communicating something that she didn’t quite understand. Something that was, nonetheless, oddly comforting.

The conveyance started off again. Swift Nick, clearly bored with the domestic drama, scooted to an unoccupied corner, curled up, and fell asleep.

“You lied to me,” Bennett said.

Though calm, his words struck her with the concentrated force of bullets. He’d moved to the bench vacated by his brother, and his blank expression made her reel.

And blurt the first stupid thing that entered her head.

“I crossed my fingers when I made that promise.”

“Pardon, I didn’t realize,” he said with scathing sarcasm. “That makes lying all right then.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Swallowing, she tried to explain. “I’m sorry I went back on my word, but you left me no choice—”

“This is my fault, is it? Of course it is.” Bitterness infused his voice. “Why should you take the responsibility for your wrongdoing, your bloody lies, when I’m here as the convenient dupe?”

Despite her anxiety, something in his words struck her as strange…and unfair.

“I’m not blaming you,” she said quietly. “The responsibility is mine. I decided to break my promise and come tonight.”

“Yes, you did.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I gave you my trust, and you showed me, without a doubt, that you are not deserving of it.”

Although she flinched at his harsh words, she did not back down. She couldn’t. She had resolved to win Bennett’s favor, yes, but not by altering the essence of who she was.

Moreover, she’d believed that he was the one man who wouldn’t ask it of her. Who’d seen something special, of value, in her. Had she been wrong?

“Perhaps it is you who is not deserving of my trust,” she said.

His brows slammed together. “The devil you say.”

“While I did break my word, I did so because you gave me no other choice.” She lifted her chin. “You wouldn’t listen to me. Wouldn’t even consider that I might be of use to the mission, that I might contribute something which, by the by, I did seeing as I got us into the laboratory.”

“At what risk?” he ground out. “Christ, Tessa, you were traipsing alone at night, breaking into a house. Anything could have happened to you!”

“So you’re angry,” she interrupted, “because you were worried for my safety?”

“I’m angry because you betrayed my trust,” he snarled.

At least his controlled calmness was gone. She was no good at battling sarcasm and subtle attacks (which was why she’d been thoroughly trounced by the debs at Southbridge’s). But she excelled at direct combat because she never backed down.

“You betrayed my trust too,” she shot back.

“That’s shite.”

“It’s not shite! It’s the truth.”

“How?” he clipped out. “How did I betray you?”