Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (13 page)

‘I hope I did not interrupt at a crucial moment—’

‘You hope no such thing, Devereaux, otherwise you would not have interrupted at all,’ Benedict rasped scathingly. ‘Now say what you have to say and then be on your way.’

‘Your … haste to return to your lady is—’

‘There will be no conversation, either now or in the future, in regard to the lady who has just left us!’ Benedict’s anger was barely contained.

‘She is very beautiful—’

‘And absolutely none of your damned business!’ Benedict’s eyes glittered as hard and black as the jet they resembled. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

‘Of course.’ The other man gave a mocking bow in acknowledgement.

‘Well, get on with it, man.’ Benedict might have to deal with these traitors to their own
country, out of the need to protect his own, but he did not have to respect them for it.

And he was, as Devereux had just remarked, ‘in some haste to return to his lady.’

‘You have been very quiet these past few hours, Benedict …?’

He turned from where he had been staring broodingly out of the carriage window watching the dawn break, only late-night revellers like themselves returning home in their carriages, and the early morning bustle of traders starting to deliver their wares, travelling the otherwise deserted London streets.

Genevieve’s remark, as to his distraction during the latter part of the night, was wholly merited. Benedict had indeed been broodingly silent since his conversation with Devereux.

Understandably so, when it seemed that even now Napoleon still plotted and planned for what surely must be an impossible escape from his incarceration on the remote island of St Helena. Nevertheless, as was always the case, Benedict would pass the information on to Eric Cargill as soon as was possible, so that his godfather might deal with it as he saw fit.

God, how Benedict was starting to hate this constant need for secrecy, this seemingly
never-ending deluge of information of Napoleon’s machinations for his escape, impossible as most seemed to be, but none of which could be ignored; England and its allies dared not risk allowing the Corsican to escape and run amok for a second time.

He smiled briefly at Genevieve as she continued to look up at him enquiringly. ‘I have no idea how Prinny maintains the stamina for such jaded and lengthy entertainments; I find myself exhausted just from having attended!’

Genevieve gave a dreamy smile. ‘It truly was just as exciting as I hoped it might be.’

Benedict’s smile turned to one of indulgence as he saw the happiness shining in her eyes. ‘Then I consider my own boredom with the evening to have been well worth it.’

Mischief glowed once again in Genevieve’s expressive eyes. ‘I am sure that you—and all the other gentlemen present—did not find the evening quite so tedious when the beautiful Countess of Montgomery decided she was far too hot and began to disrobe completely?’

‘She does have rather lovely—Ouch! There was no need to pinch, Genevieve!’ He winced as she delivered a painful pinch to his thigh.

Genevieve raised mocking brows. ‘Then perhaps you should not remark on the merits
of one lady’s … attractions when in the company of another?’

‘I do not see the harm as long as one does not touch?’

‘Perhaps you should tell that to your pinched thigh?’ She arched derisive brows.

Light-hearted teasing, as seemed to be the case more often than not whenever Benedict was with Genevieve, was something completely new to him in regard to a woman. His own humour usually ran to mockery or sarcasm, rather than playful bantering, and he found the experience, although slightly alien, to be as refreshing as Genevieve was herself.

‘You are right.’ He nodded, straight-faced. ‘I am sure, when the countess bent down to remove her stockings, that I detected a bulge of unsightly flesh—Ouch! My thigh will be bruised as black and blue as your wrist before this night is over, Genevieve!’ He clasped his aggrieved thigh once again just as the carriage came to a stop outside her home.

She turned to him. ‘Do you really wish for the night to end quite yet, Benedict?’

He stilled. ‘What do you mean …?’

Genevieve suddenly felt extremely shy. It truly had been a magical evening for her. Being introduced to the Prince Regent and
basking in his flattering comments. Able to see all the opulence with which he surrounded himself. Observing the glittering array of his strange mix of dinner guests—and their excess of behaviour! Enjoying the bounteous dinner table of the Prince Regent, both visually and gastronomically.

But best of all had been spending the evening at Benedict’s side, something Genevieve was finding she enjoyed more and more each time they met.

Not only did she know him to be too honourable a man to ever resort to the physical violence with which she had been treated these past seven years—Benedict was far too confident, both of himself and his attraction, to ever resort to such measures in order to dominate—but he was also entertaining and attentive, yet not suffocatingly so. A single glare from those coal-black eyes had been enough to quell even the most daring of advances made to her by some of the other gentlemen present this evening.

Benedict was also, in Genevieve’s opinion, the most handsome gentleman in England. So much so she had felt proud just being at his side, his obvious choice of companion for the evening—much to the chagrin of many of the
other female guests, as they gave Benedict admiring and covetous glances and Genevieve envious glares.

It had felt wonderfully exhilarating to know that she, Genevieve Forster, was the lady Lord Benedict Lucas had chosen to spend his evening with, the woman whom he so obviously desired.

As to the heat of the kisses they had shared outside on the terrace …! Genevieve quivered with delight just thinking about them, of how much she wished they had not been interrupted when they had. Although it would perhaps not have been seemly, despite the licentious behaviour of some of the other dinner guests, to have taken their lovemaking any further whilst at the home of their Regent!

Even so, Genevieve felt a little shy in regard to voicing her wish that they might continue that lovemaking now … ‘I had thought perhaps you might come into the house and join me in a nightcap? There is something I had wished to discuss with you,’ she added quickly as she saw him frown.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’ She kept her lashes downcast over her eyes, so that Benedict should not observe the disappointment in them, which she felt in his
not having immediately accepted her suggestion for what it was—an invitation to continue their lovemaking of earlier. ‘It—something you said to me two days ago, in regard to the investigation into your parents’ deaths, troubled me.’

‘Why did you not mention this earlier tonight?’

She shrugged her shoulders beneath her evening cloak. ‘I—it is not a matter in need of urgent discussion, just something I wished to discuss with you more fully the next time we found ourselves alone in private conversation.’

‘I see.’

Did Benedict ‘see’, and was this delay in answering her his way of indicating he had no interest in resuming their lovemaking of earlier this evening?

Genevieve had no experience upon which she might draw in order to know the answer to that particular question—betrothed and married before her very first Season had come to an end had given her little opportunity to understand the workings of a true gentleman’s mind. Her brother, Colin, had been transparent to her from childhood, of course, but in
Genevieve’s mind, Josiah and William Forster did not count in the least as being gentlemen!

Whatever the reasoning behind it, she found Benedict’s less-than-enthusiastic response to her invitation to be less than flattering to her fragile ego. ‘I will understand, of course, if you feel this is not the right time for such a conversation?’

Benedict was not convinced for a moment of that understanding, knew by the edge to Genevieve’s tone that she was more than a little piqued that he had not readily accepted her invitation to accompany her inside, for a nightcap or anything else. Under normal circumstances he would have been happy to do so; this constant state of physical frustration was starting to wear a bit thin. But …

There was always a but, it seemed, whenever his actions involved the work he did secretly for the Crown. And, this evening, despite Genevieve’s obvious enjoyment of it, had been another occasion when Benedict had needed to be in a certain place at a certain time, in order to receive vital information. A case of mutual needs being satisfied, he had reasoned with himself when he had asked Genevieve to accompany him this evening.

The problem now was what to do with that
information; Devereux had been most insistent it be passed on to the powers that be—in this case, Eric Cargill—at the earliest opportunity. And Benedict was very aware that he had already delayed relaying that information for several crucial hours, as he remained at the dinner party far longer than he needed, because he had been loath to bring Genevieve’s enjoyment of the evening to a close.

The temptation to say to hell with it and delay passing along Deveraux’s information for several more hours—hours he might spend making love to Genevieve!—was highly tempting. Even if Benedict knew he could not, in all conscience, act upon it … ‘I have something else I need to do this morning, but I would be more than happy to return later in the day?’

‘Of course.’ Genevieve drew back into herself, her expression one of politeness now rather than the mischievous one Benedict had so enjoyed just a few minutes ago. ‘I fear I will probably sleep away most of today anyway, following such a late night, so perhaps you might consider calling tomorrow, if you find you can spare the time?’

He winced. ‘Genevieve—’

‘I really should go in, Benedict.’ Her smile
was as coldly dismissive as her tone. ‘Thank you again for a wonderful evening. I have enjoyed it immensely.’

Benedict breathed out his frustration with her cool politeness. As if she were thanking a benevolent uncle for taking her on an outing; Benedict did not feel in the least benevolent at this moment, nor did he have any wish to be treated as Genevieve’s uncle!

He reached out and laid a hand on Genevieve’s as his groom opened the door to the carriage so that she might step down. ‘I insist on calling upon you later this afternoon, Genevieve, if that is convenient?’

Her gaze remained distant. ‘As you please.’

‘Genevieve—’

‘I really am very tired, Benedict.’

He wanted to say more, to say something—anything!—which might prevent them from parting in this distantly polite manner. But his oath of secrecy meant he could not tell her the truth of why he must leave her now, and none of the excuses that immediately sprang to mind, to explain his refusal of her invitation, sounded in the least convincing, even to him!

No, Benedict knew he had no choice but to part from Genevieve, knowing that she believed
him to be less than eager to make love with her again. Nevertheless … ‘I promise I will make it up to you later today.’

‘I am sure, when I have already expressed my enjoyment of the evening, that there is nothing you need make up to me for, either later today or any other,’ she cut in sharply, her eyes flashing deeply blue. ‘Now I really am most fatigued, Benedict, and—and my arm is once again paining me a little, too.’

Damn it, Benedict had all but forgotten about Genevieve’s broken wrist and bruised arm in his need to reassure her he was not refusing her invitation, merely delaying it! ‘Of course.’ He nodded tersely, stepping down from the carriage before her and dismissing the groom to the back of the coach as he turned and helped her down the carriage steps. ‘You must call for Dr McNeill again if you feel it necessary.’

Genevieve kept her face averted from Benedict’s in an effort not to let him see the tears of humiliation she was sure must, or very shortly would be, glistening in her eyes. ‘I am sure that it is only a case of over-exertion and that I shall feel better after a few hours’ rest. Goodnight, Benedict.’ She gave him another cool
nod. ‘It really has been a most entertaining evening.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Must we part at odds with each other, Genevieve?’

‘Why, what on earth do you mean?’ Years of hiding her true emotions from both her husband and her stepson—she had refused to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing if she was upset or hurting from anything they had said or done to her—now stood her in good stead as she gave a lightly dismissive laugh. ‘Have I not just told you that I had a most entertaining evening?’

Benedict scowled darkly. ‘Yes. But—’

‘Do you doubt my sincerity?’

‘Not in the least. It is only—’

‘Really, Benedict, you are making no sense at all. And I had thought it was the ladies who were accused of being contrary!’ she taunted.

His mouth tightened. ‘Do not pretend to act the tease with me, Genevieve. You are angry with me because I have refused your invitation—’

‘I am not in the least angry with you—’

‘—and quite rightly so,’ he continued determinedly. ‘Damn it, I would spend the rest of the night and day with you if I could—’

‘I do not believe I asked you to do so—’

‘You implied it—’

‘I am sure I did not, Benedict. Can it be that you are slightly foxed?’ She eyed him disapprovingly.

‘You know damn well I barely drank anything at all this evening!’ he snapped his impatience.

‘Then I can only assume that the rumours about you are correct, and that you really are just arrogance personified!’ Genevieve glared up at him indignantly, even as a blush of that humiliation now warmed her cheeks. ‘I invited you in for a nightcap as a pleasant way of ending our evening together and you have turned it around in your mind into being something else completely! You then have the gall to imagine I am piqued because of your refusal.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘Goodnight, Benedict.’ She tilted her chin disdainfully. ‘I sincerely hope that the next time we meet you have remembered your manners!’

Benedict could only stand on the cobbled roadside and watch in frustration as Genevieve walked briskly away from him and entered her house, knowing that there was nothing he could say at this moment that would put matters right between the two of them.