Janice Preston – Saved By Scandal's Heir (страница 11)
‘Let go of me.’
He released her. Stepped back. Frowned. ‘Why?’
Harriet stared at the blurry floor. Wiped her mouth with a shaking hand. ‘I cannot. I am—’
‘Don’t say you’re sorry,’ he said in a savage voice. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuses.’
He swung away and slammed through the door, crashing it shut behind him, leaving Harriet alone, trembling with the memories that she had tried so hard to put behind her.
* * *
Benedict strode down the hill, away from the tower, his blood pounding with fury and unquenched desire. How weak-willed could a man be? After her rejection—twice—still he had left himself wide open for another blow. His brisk pace did little to assuage the urge to lash out and, as he entered the Home Wood, on the path that led back to the house, he snatched a fallen branch from the ground to slash at last season’s dried-up undergrowth as he passed.
His instinct was to leave. Return to London. Bury himself in his work and his plans for the future or jump on the nearest ship and seek out new adventures. Anything rather than stay here and suffer any more of her games, leading a man on and then freezing him out.
The house came into view. He slammed to a halt. Considered. Then changed direction.
He strode into the barn, then slowed so as not to spook the horses in the stalls. Heads turned enquiringly to watch his progress along the passageway, and he breathed in the familiar, calming smell of horses, leather and hay, pausing to pat one or two gleaming rumps as he passed.
A groom’s head popped out from the end stall. ‘Morning, sir,’ he called. ‘Was you going out?’
‘Yes.’ The question spurred him into a decision. ‘Saddle the bay, will you, Tom?’
A long, fast ride would do him the power of good. It would douse both his temper and his lust and, hopefully, blast away the confusion that had beset him ever since Harriet had reappeared in his life. He swept his hand through his hair, realising he had lost his hat somewhere. No matter—his appearance would make no difference where he was going.
* * *
It was dark before Benedict returned to Tenterfield Court, weary and slightly foxed after an afternoon spent in the Crossways Inn in the village. He left his horse at the stables and walked towards the house, conscious that his steps were beginning to lag. He entered through a side door and met Cooper, the footman, in the passage. He must ask. He had no wish to bump into her unprepared.
‘Where is she?’ Hellfire! That didn’t come out as he intended. ‘Lady Brierley,’ he added. ‘I’m late. Has she eaten?’ It was past the customary time for dinner in the country. With any luck she had already gone upstairs, as keen as him to avoid another encounter.
Cooper frowned. ‘She’s gone, sir. Lord Brierley came and took her off in his carriage.’
Benedict felt himself sway. Must’ve drunk more than I realised. He inched closer to the wall and propped his shoulders against it.
‘When?’
‘Soon after her ladyship came back from her walk, sir. His lordship was already here. He’d had her bags packed all ready, and been up to see Sir Malcolm and then, when her ladyship arrived, he dragged her off to his carriage.’
Dragged? The image unsettled him, but it also raised a hope he didn’t want to feel. ‘Lady Brierley didn’t want to leave?’
‘No, sir. First she said she wouldn’t leave without her maid...’
Ah, of course. Her maid. Janet. She was the cause of Harriet’s reluctance. Stupid to imagine it could be anything else. Benedict shook his head, trying to clear it and order his thoughts.
‘And then,’ Cooper continued, clearly relishing being the one to tell him the story, ‘his lordship said Janet must go, too, and the doctor was here and he said as how she shouldn’t really be moved, and his lordship said he wouldn’t leave her here in this den of...den of...something...’
Iniquity, Benedict thought, his head reeling as his temples began to throb.
‘...so we had to carry Janet downstairs and prop up her leg on cushions and all the while his lordship was looking like thunder—’
‘Had he come to visit Sir Malcolm?’
‘No, sir, but he did go up and pay his respects. He said something about a letter, sir, and more scandal, sir. Just like that. More scandal!’ Cooper paused for breath.
‘And her ladyship was happy to go?’
‘Well, yes and no, I should say, sir.’
Benedict bit down the urge to bark, Get on with it, man. ‘I’m waiting, Cooper.’
‘Well, she seemed happy enough to go, but she wanted to go back to London, she said. Only his lordship wouldn’t budge, even when her ladyship pleaded with him. He said as how she was to come home with him and explain herself properly if she knew what was good for her.’
What was good for her? She’s his stepmother, for God’s sake. What the blazes did he mean by that?
‘And then he said as how he would stop her allowance if she didn’t do what he said.’
‘And so she went with him?’
‘Yes, sir. But she wasn’t happy.’
Benedict told himself it was for the best. He told himself it was a relief, but then why did his throat ache and why had his stomach twisted into knots?
‘Thank you, Cooper. That will be all.’
Benedict levered himself away from the wall and headed towards the back stairs on decidedly unsteady legs.
‘Please inform Sir Malcolm I am unwell and unable to pay him my usual visit. I am going to bed.’ He flung the words over his shoulder at the footman.
‘Her ladyship found your hat, sir.’ Cooper’s words floated up the back stairs after Benedict. ‘Mr Crabtree brushed it and put it away.’
His hat! A vague memory surfaced of Harriet dislodging it during that kiss. Benedict stumbled as he reached the top of the stairs and turned in the direction of his bedchamber. He cursed under his breath, praying he would not meet any other servants in his current state.
Never again would he touch the ale at the Crossways. It was clearly tainted.
Edward’s carriage bowled through the elaborately crafted wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to Brierley Place, and Harriet gazed from the window as the familiar manor house with its mullioned windows and ornate chimneys came into view. It had been her home for more than seven years, but she had left it with no regret when Brierley had died three years ago, and Edward, as the fourth Earl of Brierley, had moved his family in.
The journey—slow in deference to Janet’s injuries—had been interminable, the silence heavy with Edward’s unspoken fury, punctuated only by the occasional moan of pain that escaped Janet despite the clear effort she made to be quiet, biting at her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. Edward had spent the entire journey glowering at Harriet, arms folded across his barrel-like torso. Clearly he could not wait to rip into her, but Harriet knew he would never do so in front of a servant.
Physically, he was just like his father—no more than medium height, light brown hair, inclined to stoutness—but in his character he was the complete opposite. His chief concern, as ever, was for appearances, and he took himself and his duties with the utmost seriousness since inheriting the earldom. He sat as magistrate in the petty sessions whenever required, and he prided himself on his firm but fair judgement; he attended the House of Lords on a regular basis and spoke—according to the newspaper reports that Harriet had read—with authority and gravity on important matters of state; and he expected his family, including his late father’s widow, to behave with the utmost propriety at all times.
If only, Harriet had often thought to herself, he knew what his father was truly like. Or perhaps he did know—at least some of it—and, like many men, he believed that what went on between husband and wife was nobody’s business but their own.
The lack of conversation had given Harriet time to think...time to remember...time to relive. That kiss! Shivers rippled down her spine and spread beneath her skin. It was surely the shock of seeing Benedict in such familiar surroundings that had provoked her into behaving so out of character. She determined to put her entire visit to Tenterfield behind her—going there had been a colossal lack of judgement on her part and she could not wait to return to her familiar, humdrum life. Benedict’s intention to take his place in society had been a shock, but it should be easy enough to avoid him—he had been overseas for years and they would be unlikely to have friends in common. And once he married and had a family, the dangerous attraction he had awakened within her would be banished.
But first... She sneaked a peek at Edward, sitting opposite her. He caught her look and scowled. Harriet swallowed. First she must placate Edward.
After Benedict had stormed away from the folly, Harriet had retrieved his hat from the floor and carried it back to the house, where she was swept up in the whirlwind that was her stepson. He refused to listen to reason. Janet couldn’t be moved? Nonsense. If she was able to sit up in bed, she could sit in a carriage for a couple of hours with her leg propped up and well padded. He would instruct the coachman to keep the horses at a walk. Harriet wished to return to London? Certainly. He would put his carriage at her disposal. After he had spoken to her about her behaviour, as was his duty as head of the family. And he would do that at Brierley Place. Not in this—Edward had looked around, his top lip curled—not in this den of iniquity.