must have betrayed something, because Robert narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, “Do you remember meeting her?”
Only too well, Ben thought to himself. His headache, which had begun to subdue, sharpened considerably. With undue heat he answered, “Not with much fondness, Robbie. She threw a glass of water at me, I remember that much quite clearly.”
“I think you insulted her, Ben,” Robert reminded him.
“I never insult women.”
“Perhaps you called her scrawny. She was only eleven, you know. Always been a bit of a tomboy, though.”
Ben snorted in distaste. “Age is no excuse. I’d rather hoped to continue avoiding her.”
Robert nodded in agreement. “Can’t say I’d mind if you avoided my sister either, old boy, but there’s unlikely to be much choice unless you plan on leaving the country again. She’ll be here for the entire season. It’s her first, you know.”
That piqued Ben’s curiosity. “Not married, then? What, doesn’t she believe in it either?”
“Keep your mind out of the gutter, Ben. She never had a proper coming out. Once our father became ill she remained home to tend to him. He died just last year, as you know, and she’s been in mourning since. Anyway, for some reason she’s become set on the idea of matrimony all of the sudden.”
Ben merely grunted. “It happens to all women.”
“You’re being rather touchy this morning.”
Ben supposed he was, and it was all the fault of his irrational behavior the night before. He’d known countless beautiful women in his life and had never lost control quite like that. Oh, not much had happened, but for God’s sake, she was his best friend’s sister. He should have gone straight to bed, yet he’d been so reluctant to bring their conversation to its hasty and logical end, with both of them heading off to their respective rooms for a good night’s sleep. It was too much fun watching her blush, and he had simply poured himself another drink and all but forced her to join him.
Thinking of that blasted drink, Ben had to smile to himself. Served the chit right for choking on it. It softened the blow—literally—for that damn book she’d thrown at him. Lucky thing she kissed better than she threw or his head would be throbbing more than it already was.
But that kiss…
After she’d fled the room, he’d had another drink, trying to tame his rampant emotions. He was angry, but mainly with himself. Couldn’t really blame her for trying to brain him. He’d treated her quite cavalierly after that kiss, but it was the only way he could think of to get her out of the room before his tenuous control slipped once more.
If it were any other female, he’d simply bed her—no better way to get a woman out of one’s mind. But she was Robert’s sister and seduction was not an option.
Robert was saying something about lunch and Ben realized he hadn’t been listening. Robert was looking at him, clearly waiting for an answer.
Ben wasn’t sure what the question had been, but took a stab at an answer anyway. “Oh, no. I have to return home. Mrs. Davis should be in today, cleaning or whatever it is she does to ready the house for the season. Have a few things to do myself. You on for White’s tonight?”
“Tonight’s the old engagement party, lad…as I’ve been telling you. ’Fraid I’m obliged to make an appearance. You should come, though—I know you weren’t planning on being in town, but now that you’re here…”
“I’ll think about it. Right now I need to rest up and set my head to rights. Not quite myself yet this morning.”
“Noted,” Robert said dryly, “but I’ll be expecting you tonight anyway—besides, I’d get great satisfaction out of unbalancing Horse Face’s guest list.”
Ben glanced at his pocket watch. It was nearly eleven. He’d better leave Robert’s soon lest Kate make an appearance.
He nodded distractedly. “I’ll try to make it, Rob. But now I really must go. I have business of my own to attend to.” He pushed his uneaten breakfast back and rose from his seat. “Enjoy your lunch…who’d you say you were dining with?”
Robert sighed. “Charlotte and Kate.”
“Kate?”
“My sister, dunce. Did you hear anything I was saying?”
“Like I said, I’m not myself this early. But self shall return before this evening. You have my promise.”
Chapter Three
W hen Charlotte Bannister opened the door to her bedroom that evening, she was preceded by an accusing face and followed by the strains of a waltz. Her engagement party was progressing beautifully downstairs; every room in her parents’ elegant mansion was filled with the soft light of a dozen crystal chandeliers and buzzed with the latest on dit. Everyone invited had showed, and everyone, almost, was behaving.
The exception, Katherine Sutcliff, sat guiltily and unsociably in the center of Charlotte’s bed. Such behavior could not be permitted.
Charlotte sat down on the yellow damask chaise longue with legs formed by black and gold caryatids at the foot of her bed. Kate tried not to meet her gaze and pretended to look around the room instead. The entire Orient converged there, owing to Charlotte’s mother’s exuberant taste for all things Egyptian, Chinese and Greek.
“You simply must come back downstairs,” Charlotte said after a moment of silence. Her pretty blue eyes brooked no argument.
“Well, you see, Char—”
“I do not.” She tossed her dark hair impatiently. “I thought you were excited about this party! What can the problem possibly be? Surely you’re not still worried about your gown? I will tell you again, you look lovely. You were the center of attention for the brief moment you deigned to remain downstairs. You must have noticed.”
Indeed, Kate thought, looking down at her dress and blushing. Because she had arrived only the day before she hadn’t had time to get fitted for anything new. Anticipating this problem, Charlotte had taken it upon herself to have something made up a few weeks ago without consulting Kate or even having met her first. The approximate measurements had come from Robert, who, in brotherly fashion, had badly underestimated her feminine attributes. In the tight bodice, her breasts had nowhere to go but up. She felt quite naked, and Robert’s rakish friends staring openly at her chest did not help matters. Her unease, however, was spurred by the thought of only one of those friends. Benjamin Sinclair had already seen her half-exposed in her dressing gown, and look what happened then. She didn’t know if he’d arrived at the party, or if he planned to attend at all, but not knowing was driving her mad.
“Bastard.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”
“What?” Kate looked up in alarm. Oh, God. Had she spoken aloud?
“You muttered an inexcusable word under your breath just now—”
Kate cut Charlotte off lest she got any more offended. “I’m sorry.
