tackle any situation. Of course, it was odd that a stranger like Mr. Sedgewick was so willing to help her out of her troubles, but just because a man went out of his way to be kind, that did not mean that she should reject his help. The worst aspect of the plan was having to be around such a rude, insufferable man as Benedict for several days. However, she was quite competent and reasonable, and she was sure that she would be able to manage both the situation and him. Fate had dropped this opportunity into her lap, and she would be foolish not to take advantage of it.
“Yes,” she responded firmly. “I am willing.”
Sedgewick gave her a small smile. “Then I will go talk to Benedict. In the meantime, you may use this parlor to, um, freshen up.”
Camilla almost giggled at the inadequacy of his polite words to describe the daunting task that lay before her. She was caked all over with mud, and she could not imagine how she would ever get it all out of her hair and off her skin without taking a complete bath.
“I shall tell the maid to bring in a pitcher and basin. I’m sure you have a change of clothes in your post chaise.” When Camilla nodded, he went on, “I’ll have my man fetch your bags, then, so you will be able to get into some clean clothes.”
Camilla nodded. “Thank you.”
“No trouble at all.” He started toward the door, then hesitated. “You might want to fortify yourself with another cup of punch, as well.”
* * *
BENEDICT WALKED NO farther than the bench in front of the inn and sat down on it to light a cigar. He had no doubt that Sedgewick would be following him in a moment. For all Jermyn’s exquisite manners, he was like a dog with a bone when he got his mind set on something, and Benedict was sure that he was not about to give up easily on his latest idea.
He had barely gotten his cigar lit when Jermyn came out of the inn and strode over to the bench. Sedgewick stood for a moment, looking down at him. Benedict blew out a cloud of smoke, studiously ignoring the other man.
“Well?” Jermyn asked at last. “Would you like to explain why you are refusing such a golden opportunity?”
Benedict cocked his head to look at him. “Golden opportunity? For what? Making an even bigger hash of things? Wasting what precious time we have? Good Gad, Jer, I think you have gone mad.”
“At least I’m not blind. Or is it hopeless? Have you given up?”
That remark brought Benedict surging to his feet. “No man, not even you, can accuse me of giving up.”
“Oh, give over, Rawdon,” his friend retorted equably. “I know better than anyone how little likely you are to give up. When everyone had given you up for lost there in the Peninsula, I was the only one who was certain that you would find your way back to your own lines—and bring back your comrades as well, even though you had caught two balls in your leg. After all, I was the one who had had to suffer to the bloody end through every ghastly childhood escapade you dreamed up. However, I cannot understand why you are so unwilling to do this.”
Benedict goggled at him. “You have come unhinged, Jer. Anyone could see that it’s utterly impossible. Pretend to be engaged to that…that hoyden? It wouldn’t last a day. We would be at each other’s throats in a half hour. No one could believe that we are wanting to marry each other.”
“Why not? She’s an attractive woman…underneath that mud, I mean.”
“How can you tell? Hell, it’s not her attractiveness. I’ll grant you that she has a pleasant face.”
The other man groaned. “Pleasant? Didn’t you see those eyes? Blue and sparkling…”
“And a passable figure.”
“Now, I know you haven’t changed that much. No matter what Annabeth did to you, surely you can still appreciate a damn fine figure.”
“Oh, all right. Yes, she has a most delectable body.” Benedict’s voice roughened faintly on the words as he remembered how that body had felt as it slid through his hands, the brief moments when his fingers had brushed over her ripe breasts as they struggled. “And no doubt she has skin like an angel beneath all that mud. But that is beside the point. It is not her physical appearance that is the problem. It is her personality. We have been at each other like hammer and tongs from the instant we met.”
“You think there are not husbands and wives who are the same way? You must have lived too sheltered a life in the military.”
“Of course I’ve seen battling couples. But surely they were not like that when they were first betrothed.”
“Nonsense. There are some who simply love to fight. Remember Capston? He and the baroness couldn’t get through the day without a disagreement, but he was mad about the woman.”
“Capston was mad, period.”
Sedgewick shrugged. “So? These people don’t know you. How are they to know that you are not mad, also? Besides, there are other reasons people marry, you know, besides compatibility. There are bloodlines, wealth, titles—”
He stopped abruptly, casting a guilty glance at Benedict. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Yes,” Benedict retorted flatly. “I am well aware that there are those who marry for wealth and titles. And it is precisely because of my experience, Jermyn, that I do not want to get involved in this. Do you think that I could trust my safety and the safety of all our agents to a woman?”
Sedgewick sighed. “Not all women are like Annabeth. Not all would sell their souls or their bodies for a title.”
“Oh, Annabeth did not break our engagement simply because I had lost the title. There was also the estate.” He smiled grimly. “And I know that not all women are like her. There are some whose price is much lower—and doubtless some who would look even higher. But I will not put my faith in a woman again, much less give my secrets and my life into her hands. Least of all a hellion like that one.”
“But there is no need to! That is the beauty of it. She need know nothing about us. Or about our little project. She needs a fiancé for her own purposes. She is too busy worrying about her problem to wonder what you are doing or why you are willing to do this for her.”
Benedict snorted. “She would not wonder why I was willing. She thinks I would do anything for money.”
“You haven’t done a great deal to give the girl a good impression of you,” his friend pointed out. “And that’s all to our advantage. Thinking you are a scoundrel, she will not question your hiring yourself out as her fiancé. She will never dream that you are a spy in the midst of her family. You do not have to trust her. She will be as deceived as the rest of them.”
Benedict looked at his lifelong friend. Jermyn’s bland good looks and impeccable manners had always hidden an active and scheming brain. It had usually been Jermyn who came up with the tricks they pulled as lads, though it had just as usually been the dark, willful Benedict who was blamed for them, while the blond, angelic Jermyn was forgiven for going along with his mischievous friend. Benedict often thought that if the war with Napoléon had not come along, giving Jermyn a chance to turn his devious, imaginative skills to the task of defeating the enemy, Sedgewick would have wound up in Newgate—and doubtless would have somehow inveigled Benedict to be there with
