to know?’
‘What else could I possibly need to know but his title?’ she said with an ironic smile that was lost on her mother.
There were myriad answers to that question. His favourite colour. Whether he preferred coffee or tea with breakfast. If he had a dog. There were a hundred things she wished to know about him that she had not learned. The most important of them was what had motivated him to offer for her in the first place.
She pushed them all to the back of her mind and tried to give her mother a sincere smile of encouragement. ‘Since he was not particularly interested in me during our engagement and has made no effort to speak with me after, I doubt he will want to acknowledge my existence, much less trail me around the house interfering in my doings. I am sure we will both feel better if I ring for a maid to get us out of our wet clothes and changed for dinner. Then we will go downstairs and meet the other guests, and I will prove to you that things will not be as terrible as you fear.’
Benedict stood patiently in the finest guestroom of Comstock Manor as his valet dressed him for dinner. When he’d arrived, the Earl had told him that it was a former repose for King Henry VIII.
He had seen better.
Until recently, Comstock had been an American. It was quite possible that he knew little to nothing about the house or its previous guests and had made the story up out of whole cloth. Still, it was comfortable enough. The mattress was not a Tudor antique and he slept well on it.
‘Chin up, Your Grace.’
He obliged as Gibbs flipped the linen cravat about his neck and began the knot.
There was a single knock on the door and, as usual, it opened and closed before he could even give his permission for entrance. He watched in the mirror before him as Lenore crossed the room to sprawl among the pillows on his bed.
‘You should not be here,’ he reminded her with a sigh. ‘Especially not during the day when anyone might notice.’
In response, she laughed in the deep, throaty way that made heads turn and breeches tighten. After twenty-two years of exposure, he had developed some immunity to it. ‘Might notice? Darling, I made sure that they did. I would much rather that people think I am with you than that they realise what I really get up to on these trips. I doubt some of them could stand the shock.’
Despite himself, he laughed. The movement of his head earned an annoyed grunt from Gibbs, who tossed away the spoiled neckcloth and went to the wardrobe for a replacement.
He took advantage of the respite to turn from the mirror and address her directly. ‘You know that I would never deny sanctuary to a lady in distress, especially when she is my best and oldest friend. But some day, it might be interesting to go on a trip where I do not have to be the last bulwark between you and disgrace.’
She answered with a shrug and a smile, and, as usual, no promise to change in the slightest.
‘Do I want to know who you have been visiting when you are pretending to be with me?’
She shook her head. ‘It is better that you do not. But my liaison will pale in comparison with the scandal about to break at supper tonight.’
‘Do tell,’ he said, taking care not to move as Gibbs began the new knot.
‘The weather today is as bad as it was yesterday, which is to say, only a bit better than last night,’ she said. ‘We shall all be trapped inside until the storm breaks and that could take days.’
‘I am aware of the fact. The room has windows.’ He flicked a glance to the panes which were currently rattling in their frames under pea-sized hail.
‘But today, there have been some surprise additions to the party. A fallen tree in the road caused a carriage accident. The travellers are sheltering here until the weather turns and the vehicle can be repaired.’
He turned to glance over his shoulder, receiving a sigh of frustration from the valet, who tossed the second spoiled cloth aside and picked up another.
‘Since this is not my house, I have no say in the matter. I am told there are forty rooms. It should not matter at all if a few more people come here.’
‘The stranded guests are Mrs Prescott and her daughter.’
Now, it felt like the valet was knotting the cloth tight enough to strangle him and Benedict tugged it away, tossing it down to lie with its fellow before turning to face Lenore. ‘Which Prescott?’
‘The only one that matters,’ she replied, eyes flashing with amusement as she waited for his response.
He had no right to be annoyed. If she had not come to give him a warning, he might have ended up facing a dinner table full of people eager to dissect his reaction at the first sight of his former fiancée. And a fine show he would have given them had he come upon her unawares. Even with advance notice, his initial desire was to curse aloud, his second to run screaming into the rain and try to avoid the meeting that awaited him in the dining room.
Instead, he took a deep breath and apologised to Gibbs. Then, he held a finger in the air to warn Lenore of the need for silence. He ignored her expectant expression and stood stock-still until the valet had completed his work.
He was being foolish. He was used to scrutiny. His title was so old that he tended to be the ranking peer at most any gathering and he had come into it when he was still a boy. It was not unusual to feel all eyes in the room upon him, especially when he was travelling with Lenore.
But his friendship with her was old news. Though people tended to suspect the worst about them, they did not dare to voice their theories aloud. A meeting with Abigail Prescott was another matter entirely.
‘It has been long enough since the incident that I doubt anyone will even remember,’ he lied, as Gibbs gave his coat a final brushing.
‘Do not be naive,’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘It has been barely three months since she left you standing alone at the altar in St George’s. I was in the parlour when the other guests learned of her arrival and the room fairly hummed with the desire to gossip.’ She gave a modest bow of her head. ‘I came here so as not to inhibit them.’
He gave her a sour smile. ‘You might have remained and prevented it.’
‘Only delayed it, I am sure.’ She shrugged. ‘If I do not allow them some liberties, they will take to avoiding me so they might talk about you in peace.’
‘You are willing to sacrifice my reputation for the sake of your own popularity.’
‘As I have always done. You have been telling me since we first began going about together that you did not care what people thought of you.’ She touched a hand to her ample bosom and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘My reputation was your main concern. What would the world think of me, that I was so much in your company?’ Her hand dropped to her side and she looked at him, eyebrow raised. ‘It is a surprise to find your chivalry failing just when things are becoming interesting.’
‘I was young and foolish back then,’ he replied.
