Saved By Scandal's Heir. Janice Preston

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СКАЧАТЬ my lady.’ His voice was smooth and assured—a stark contrast with his inner turmoil. ‘I trust your bedchamber meets with your approval?’

      ‘Thank you, it does indeed.’

      The door opened again, and Crabtree announced that dinner was served. Benedict gestured for Harriet to precede him to the dining room.

      ‘How is your maid?’ Benedict asked, once they were seated and the food had been served. ‘Janet, is it not?’

      ‘Janet, yes,’ Harriet said. ‘I’m afraid her ankle is broken. Dr Green has set the bone and seems optimistic it will heal well. I do hope that is true and she does not end up with pain or a limp. Her back is very painful, too—the doctor cupped her and will examine her again tomorrow, when he visits Sir Malcolm. He did warn me, however, that she should remain in bed until the bruising comes out and he can see if there is any further damage to her back.’

      ‘How long is that likely to take?’

      A faint crease appeared between her brows. ‘He did not say. A few days at the least, I should imagine, so I am afraid I shall have to impose on your hospitality a little longer.’

      A few days? With her as a house guest? Benedict clenched his teeth against a sudden urge to laugh. What a fool! He was aware Harriet lived in London and since his return to England from India, he had taken care to avoid any risk of bumping into her. His efforts had been in vain; fate, it would appear, did not like to be thwarted.

      ‘She may stay as long as proves necessary,’ he said with a shrug of indifference, determined to give her no reason to suspect he could care less how long she stayed.

      Harriet studied him for a long moment as she sipped her wine. She then put her glass down and leaned forward, trapping his gaze.

      ‘In order there is no misunderstanding between us, sir, I should clarify that I will not leave Janet here alone. I intend to remain with her until she is fit enough to travel to Brierley Place. It is only eight miles away, and she can remain there until she is able to undertake the journey to London.’

      ‘As you wish,’ Benedict said. ‘Heaven forfend your maid should be forced to undergo the privations of recuperating in these miserable surroundings.’

      A flush lit Harriet’s cheeks. ‘The point is that she will be happier surrounded by people she knows,’ she said. ‘And I shall not hesitate to leave her there whilst I return to London.’

      ‘Your maid will be perfectly safe here without your protection,’ Benedict said, smarting at yet another reminder of the past scandals that had tainted both Tenterfield and the Poole name. It would take time to restore the reputation of both but he was determined to do so, and the sooner the better.

      Harriet’s words prompted another thought: he had forgotten Brierley Place was quite so near. ‘I wonder, though, that you did not plan to stay with your family at Brierley Place, rather than at a public inn, after your visit to my cousin. Why?’

      Her gaze lowered. ‘I wish to return to London as soon as possible, and if I stayed with my stepson and his family they would expect more than an overnight visit.’

      Her hand rose to her neck, and she began to twirl a lock of hair that curled loose by her ear. That achingly familiar habit catapulted Benedict back in time. She was hiding something. It was the first reminder of the girl he’d once known. He studied her, wondering what currents were masked by that calm, ladylike exterior of hers.

      ‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘my stepson is always up and down to London in his carriage. He will return Janet to me as soon as she is well. The carriage will be far more comfortable for her than a hired chaise.’

      ‘Indeed it will,’ Benedict said, ‘and, with that in mind, I shall arrange to pay off your post boys in the morning.’

      ‘Thank you. I shall, of course, reimburse you.’

      ‘Of course,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘And, when you are ready to leave, I shall put my carriage at your disposal.’

      Her brows rose. ‘Your carriage? Do you not mean Sir Malcolm’s?’

      Benedict’s anger flared in response to that challenge but he battled the urge to vent his feelings, telling himself that anger came from caring, and he did not care.

      ‘I am not so devoid of feeling as to step into my kinsman’s shoes whilst he is still alive,’ he said, careful to keep his tone neutral. ‘I have my own carriage. It is the use of that I offer to you.’

      A delicate flush swept up from her chest to tint her cheeks as she turned her attention to her food. ‘Of course. I apologise. I should not have cast such aspersions.’

      The conversation faltered, and the silence accentuated the lonely wail of the wind outside. The windows rattled with every gust, the wind forcing its way through the gaps in the frames to cause the red velvet curtains to billow into the room from time to time.

      ‘How long have you been here, at Tenterfield?’

      Benedict finished chewing and swallowed his food before answering, ‘A week. My cousin’s solicitor sent for me on the doctor’s advice.’

      ‘So there is no hope of a cure?’

      ‘None.’

      He read sympathy in those glorious eyes of hers. He had no need of it. She, of all people, should know he had no fondness for Malcolm. He would be no loss to humanity and Benedict would not pretend a grief he did not feel. His predominant emotion was impatience to return to London. His business—importing goods from the Far East—needed his attention and he had matters to discuss with his partner, Matthew Damerel, who was due back in town again shortly.

      They finished eating and Benedict stood, saying, ‘Serve the brandy in the drawing room, will you please, Crabtree?’ He caught Harriet’s eye and added, ‘Would you care to join me?’

      ‘Thank you.’ She rose elegantly to her feet. ‘I shall wait for the tea tray and then I shall retire. It has been a somewhat exhausting day.’

      Benedict had not proffered his arm to Harriet before dinner but now, mellowed by wine and bolstered by the certainty that he was in control of his temper, he waited for Harriet to round the table and reach him, then crooked his arm. She halted, her gaze fixed on his arm, then raised her eyes to his. She seemed about to speak, but then merely laid her gloved hand on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her from the room.

      Every muscle in his arm tensed, even though her touch was feather-light. Her scent, sophisticated, floral and quintessentially feminine, assailed his nostrils and he found himself swallowing hard, trying to ignore the unaccustomed flutter of nerves in his belly. He gritted his teeth. He was a grown man, for God’s sake. This ridiculous reaction meant nothing; it was merely the spectre of the past playing games with him. Maybe he should take advantage of the circumstances that had thrown them together like this. Lay her and those ghosts at the same time.

      ‘Would you care for a glass of brandy?’ he enquired when Cooper, the footman, followed them into the drawing room carrying a silver salver, complete with decanter and two glasses.

      ‘Thank you, but I have no taste for spirits. A cup of tea will suffice.’

      Cooper handed a glass of brandy to Benedict, СКАЧАТЬ