crowded with other revellers. ‘This is all so perfect, Benedict. And just as I imagined it might be! Can we go and listen to the band playing at the colonnade? And see some of the beautiful fountains? And then could we—?’
‘You are rattling on again, Genevieve.’ Benedict gave a weary shake of his head, grateful that his two closest friends could not see him now. Indeed, he thanked heaven Dante and Devil were at present too occupied in the pursuit of their own respective ladies to interest themselves in Benedict’s own activities, otherwise he doubted he would never hear the end of this hellish evening he had brought upon himself!
For hell it now most assuredly was, when Benedict was so physically aware of Genevieve; her cloak had parted, and the lamplight now revealed the full swell of her breasts above the pale gown she wore, her lips a full and tempting pout beneath her golden mask, and his nostrils were being assaulted by the delicate floral perfume she wore.
All of which was succeeding in making him feel more inclined to drag Genevieve into the privacy of one of the shadowed arbours, before kissing her once again—more than kissing her!—rather than continuing to stroll innocently about the gardens with her as had been his original intention.
‘I am only excited to be here, Benedict, with one of the most handsome gentlemen in England.’
Benedict’s eyes narrowed behind his own mask. ‘If you are hoping, by flirting with me, that you will succeed in diverting my attention from your unanswered question of earlier, then I am afraid you are going to be disappointed.’
She shot him an impatient frown. ‘You are unflatteringly single-minded, Benedict!’
He eyed her mockingly. ‘Unfortunately for you, yes, I am.’ He nodded unapologetically. ‘So …?’
Genevieve drew in a deep breath before answering him reluctantly. ‘It really is nothing of importance …’
‘Then be so kind as to share this “nothing of importance” with me.’
She sighed. ‘If you must know, I received a visit from my stepson earlier today.’
Benedict eyes narrowed. ‘William Forster?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And we have never liked each other,’ she dismissed heavily.
‘If that is the case, then why did he bother himself to call upon you?’ His eyes narrowed as he felt Genevieve’s uninjured hand tremble slightly where it rested in the crook of his arm.
‘We are related by marriage, and I am now his father’s widow, thus making me—’
‘I am aware of the relationship, Genevieve,’ Benedict put in evenly. ‘But William Forster has never struck me as a man who bothers himself with any sort of politeness if it is not beneficial to himself.’
She looked up at him sharply in the moonlight. ‘You are personally acquainted with that gentleman?’
‘By reputation only.’ Benedict grimaced. ‘But it is a reputation that does not in the least endear him to me,’ he added grimly as he recalled the tales he had heard whispered at his clubs of the present Duke of Woollerton’s activities; unlike Benedict, William Forster was known to be a frequent visitor to some of the seedier brothels and gambling dens of London, his taste questionable at best and disgusting at worst!
Genevieve appeared to relax slightly. ‘I have never found his … character to be in the least appealing either. But the connection is there, so I fear we must both put a polite face on things. Indeed, William called to inform me that tomorrow the announcement of his engagement will appear in the newspapers, along with his wedding next month, to the Earl of Ramsey’s daughter.’
‘With the intention of inviting you to the wedding?’
‘Lord, I hope not!’ The words left Genevieve’s lips before she had chance to stop them, her cheeks warming as she instantly found herself the focus of Benedict’s narrowed black gaze. ‘That is …’ She took her hand from the crook of his arm as they stepped aside to avoid another group of revellers. ‘I believe William visited me only so that he might inform me that, upon his wedding day next month, I am to officially become the Dowager Duchess.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Why else would he have called to see me?’
‘I was hoping you might tell me that …?’
Genevieve had absolutely no intentions of confiding anything to Benedict with regard to William Forster. Indeed, her memories of the beatings he had enjoyed inflicting upon her at his father’s behest so distressed Genevieve that she could not bear to think of them now. For fear, she knew, that if she did so she might break down completely. Which would never do in the company of such an astute and single-minded gentleman as Benedict Lucas. ‘There is nothing to tell. He called to see me, told me of his marriage and then left.’
‘Nothing else …?’
‘Could we not just enjoy our walk through the gardens now, Benedict?’ she prompted somewhat agitatedly.
‘Rather than continue to talk of William Forster?’
She shot Benedict an irritated glare. ‘And cease talking of anything!’
‘I am willing to forgo further conversation about William Forster for the moment—’
‘That is very generous of you!’
‘—but not so in regard to what answer you gave Suffolk earlier today in regard to his invitation to ride with him in the park tomorrow morning.’
Genevieve’s eyes widened. ‘So you were listening to me earlier?’
‘Every prattling, nonsensical word,’ he confirmed drily.
Genevieve frowned her displeasure. ‘You are being unkind, Benedict.’
‘But I am not a fool,’ he assured firmly. ‘And for me to allow you to go riding alone with Suffolk in the park tomorrow morning, or any other time, without cautioning you that you will more than likely find yourself mounted in another way at the first convenient grove of trees would be very foolish of me indeed!’ His face appeared all dark and satanic angles in the moonlight.
‘Are all eligible gentlemen of the ton of a certain age as … devious and set in their pursuit of pleasure?’
‘I have no idea.’ He shrugged. ‘I can only warn you of what I know of men such as Sandhurst and Suffolk.’
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