Some Like to Shock (Mills & Boon Historical) (Daring Duchesses - Book 2) (15 page)

‘We will see each other at Dante and your friend Sophia’s wedding next month at least,’ Benedict reminded her.

‘Of course, yes.’

‘And I believe, despite our having witnessed their marriage last week, that Rupert and Pandora are now intending to have a big society wedding later in the summer, too.’

‘Really?’ Genevieve’s eyes lit up with pleasure.

‘It would appear so,’ Benedict confirmed. ‘Having declared his deep love for your friend Pandora, and she for him, Rupert now seems to wish it to be publicly known he is well and truly leg-shackled!’

Genevieve could not have been happier for her two closest friends and sincerely wished them both every happiness with all her heart, the same heart which had minutes ago sunk just at the thought of no longer having Benedict in her life, even as a friend. It was a friendship, she had realised during this past two days of silence from him, upon which she had all too quickly come to depend …

Which was most unwise on her part.

She already knew that Benedict was a man who rebuffed all emotions, apart from the friendships he had with Devil Stirling and Dante Carfax, and that those particular friendships had been forged during their years together in the army. Certainly no woman had ever held Benedict’s sexual interest for long, and none of those women had ever retained his friendship once that physical interest came to an end.

Besides which, Genevieve had vowed to herself, when Josiah died and she was finally free to do as she pleased, never to become
dependent upon any man again, for anything. Her independence, emotionally as well as financial, was now as necessary to her as the air she breathed—the first free-and-easy air Genevieve had been able to draw for more years than she cared to think about.

She gave Benedict a bright but insincere smile. ‘I am very pleased for all of them. Now, if you will excuse me? I fear I have neglected my other guests for quite long enough.’

‘Of course.’ Benedict had absolutely no idea what thoughts had been running through Genevieve’s head these past few minutes, but whatever they had been they did not seem to have been pleasant ones. ‘I believe that I shall go and renew my acquaintance with Woollerton.’

Her eyes widened at the suggestion. ‘I had thought—you gave me the impression, when last we spoke of him, that you were no fonder of him than I?’

‘I am not,’ Benedict assured her drily. ‘But someone should talk to him, don’t you think?’ It was noticeable, to Benedict at least, that not even Woollerton’s fiancée seemed particularly eager to seek out the other man’s company. ‘One cannot help but feel sorry for the nervous little rabbit who is to become his wife!’
To Benedict’s eyes Lady Charlotte Darby did indeed resemble a scared rabbit, with her pale colouring and wide, ingenuous eyes.

‘That is unkind, Benedict.’ Geneveive shot him a reproving glance.

‘The real unkindness is surely in Ramsey having agreed to his only daughter marrying one such as Woollerton?’

‘Possibly.’ Genevieve could not help but inwardly agree wholeheartedly with this statement, to a degree that she was still uncertain as to what to do about it, having now had chance to see how very young and delicate Charlotte Darby actually was. Far too much so for her to suffer having such a brute as William Forster as her husband. But for her to interfere, by talking to the Earl of Ramsey of her concerns for his daughter, would result in William’s fury. With the result that she might suffer more than just a broken bone in her wrist. ‘Viewed with pragmatism, it is surely a good marriage on both sides? He is a duke, she is the daughter of an earl.’

‘But?’

Genevieve frowned. ‘I cannot help but agree with you that it was not a kindness on Ramsey’s part to have accepted William’s suit on behalf of his only daughter.’

‘Unless it is a love match—no,’ Benedict instantly dismissed such an idea. ‘Woollerton has neither the looks nor character to incite such passions in one so young and obviously romantically inclined as Charlotte Darby.’

“Obviously” …?’

He nodded ruefully. ‘The chit has been giving
me
cow-eyed glances these past few minutes.’

‘Understandably so.’ Genevieve chuckled softly. ‘You are Lucifer, one of—if not
the—
most handsome and sought-after gentlemen of the
ton
,’ she added teasingly as Benedict raised dark and questioning brows.

‘Ye gods,’ he muttered disgustedly. ‘If that is true—’

‘Oh, I assure you that it is!’

‘—then let me assure you that my own tastes do not run to young ladies barely out of the schoolroom!’

Genevieve looked at him beneath the sweep of her long lashes. ‘Then what do they “run to”?’

He arched his dark brows. ‘At this moment? A beautiful and widowed duchess.’

A blush brightened the pallor of Genevieve’s cheeks. ‘I am gratified to hear it.’

Benedict’s expression tightened. ‘Enough,
dare I hope, to hasten the departure of your other guests with all possible speed?’

She laughed again softly. ‘Oh, I believe I might just mention in the next few minutes that my arm is starting to ache and that the doctor has advised I need to rest when that happens.’

‘“Resting” is not quite what I had in mind for the remainder of the afternoon and evening,’ Benedict growled.

Genevieve’s blush deepened. ‘I really must go and talk to my guests now—before you have a chance to say anything even more shocking!’

Benedict made no effort to join Woollerton for several minutes after Genevieve had crossed the room to engage the Countess of Ramsey in polite conversation. Instead he simply stood and watched her as she talked easily and charmingly with the older woman, feeling more at ease with himself than he had for the past two days.

Two days, when he readily admitted he had sorely missed their bantering together. As he had felt the loss of Genevieve herself.

Those same two days when Benedict had once again found his thoughts turning far too often to those frustrating memories of their
lovemaking, both at Vauxhall Gardens and Carlton House. Both of them occasions when they had come very close—but not close enough for his liking!—to consummating that lovemaking.

‘I am not sure that I altogether care for the way in which you are looking at my stepmother, Lucas.’

Benedict’s shoulders tensed, his eyes narrowing as he slowly turned to look at William Forster, the Duke of Woollerton, the other man scowling at him, his round face florid in his vexation. ‘I do not recall asking for your approval?’ he bit out with a chilling softness the other man would have known to be wary of if he had known Benedict better. If he had known Lucifer better …

‘I am Genevieve’s closest male relative,’ the other man reminded him pompously.

‘And a poor example of it you are, too, if her broken wrist is any example of the guardianship you have shown her these past weeks!’ Benedict eyed the younger man coldly.

The duke’s pale grey eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘And what do you know of Genevieve’s broken wrist?’

Benedict shrugged. ‘Only that she did not,
as she claims, do it by catching the sleeve of her robe upon a door handle.’

‘Indeed?’ Woollerton gave a mocking smile. ‘Then, no doubt, if you are not the one responsible—’

‘I most certainly am not and I would advise that you not suggest such a possibility in my hearing again!’ The chill warning of Benedict’s tone would have silenced any man possessed of even the slightest sense of self-preservation.

Unfortunately, William Forster was far too full of his own self-importance to heed that warning. ‘Then I can only assume that one of her other lovers must have been a little too … rough with her during their love play?’

The fact that it had been Benedict’s thinking, too, did not detract from the insult just levelled to both himself and Genevieve; Woollerton was implying both that Benedict was a fool, if he believed himself to be Genevieve’s only lover, and that Genevieve was nothing more than a trollop because of the existence of those other lovers. It was also designed, Benedict had no doubt, to put the doubt of suspicion into his own mind in regard to Genevieve’s fidelity to their own supposed relationship.

And had it succeeded in doing that?

A part of Benedict knew that he and Genevieve should not even have a relationship, not when he had only approached her initially with thoughts of using her as a shield for his real activities during his necessary ventures into society!

Something which they seemed to have moved beyond almost from that very first carriage ride together …

As for whether Woollerton’s arrow had met its target …?

If it had, then Benedict had no intention of revealing as much to the other man.

Genevieve felt nothing but relief when she saw the last of her callers finally depart an hour or so later—William, his fiancée, and future mother-in-law had all thankfully departed shortly after the end of his conversation with Benedict.

A Benedict who, thankfully, still lingered in the salon awaiting her return …

It had been something of a strain to maintain her social façade as gracious hostess once she had seen William Forster approach Benedict and the two men had fallen into quiet but intense conversation together. And her unease had not been in the least assuaged by the stiffness
of the manner in which those two gentlemen had finally parted some minutes later, William to move across the room to stand silently at the side of his fiancée, Benedict striking a brooding pose by one of the windows, the coldness of his expression not encouraging any present to so much as think of approaching him with the idea of engaging him in conversation.

Leading Genevieve to fear, whatever William’s remarks to Benedict might have been, they would not have been in the least complimentary to her …

B
enedict kept his gaze hooded when Genevieve returned alone to the salon some few minutes later, her guests having now all departed—no doubt some of them discussing his own arrival and continued presence in Genevieve’s home!

Gossip was, and ever would be, something Benedict deeply abhorred—possibly because of some of the ridiculous, and scandalous tales, which had followed the unusual death of both his parents—but he doubted Genevieve would feel the same disregard he did …

She was only newly arrived back into society, after her years spent in the country, and much as Benedict had disliked intensely having William Forster question him in regard to
his own friendship with Genevieve, it was an indication, at least, of the gossip which was already circulating amongst the
ton
regarding the two of them.

As he was only too aware, Genevieve could be quite determined in her quest for fun and adventure, sometimes without thought for her own reputation. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had felt he had no choice but to offer to escort her to Vauxhall Gardens; left to her own devices, Genevieve was more likely than not to call on the services of a bounder like Suffolk, and so embroil herself in a scandalous tangle which could result in her total exclusion from society.

But Benedict knew it was not the only reason he had escorted her to Vauxhall Gardens …

Nor was it the reason he was here again today, after telling himself it would be far better, for both of them, if he were to stay well away from the temptation Genevieve Forster constantly presented to him whenever the two of them were together.

Because he wanted her, to such a degree that Benedict found he could think of little else. To the point that he really felt he had no
choice—if he ever wanted to sleep at night again!—with regard to seeing her again today.

Worst of all, he acknowledged that his desire for Genevieve was becoming a weakness. And it was a weakness that his enemies could—and surely would—exploit to the full, if they were to realise it existed; indeed, Devereux had clearly given the impression that he already suspected as much at Carlton House. Ergo, the weakness had to be dealt with and then dismissed.

Genevieve had to be dismissed.

Not so easily done when she now crossed the room with her usual graceful elegance, having removed the lace shawl from about her arm whilst out of the room, so that she was now able to hold out both her hands to lightly clasp his. ‘It really is so good to have you here again, Benedict.’

He closed his eyes briefly to shut out the effect of the warmth shining in the blue of her eyes. This woman knew no subtlety, played none of the games which other women seemed to so enjoy, but instead blurted out exactly how she felt. About everything, it seemed. And it was as disconcerting as it was refreshing.

Benedict gave a smile as he opened his
eyes. ‘I believe, when last we spoke, you had mentioned there was something you wished to discuss with me, in regard to my parents’ deaths?’

She looked disappointed. ‘And is that your only reason for returning?’

Incorrigible baggage! ‘You must know that it is not.’ Benedict found himself smiling, the first time he had found reason to do so in days. Not that he was a man usually known for his humorous demeanour. No, that appeared to have come about only when he was in Genevieve’s company, otherwise he was known as being somewhat surly of nature. ‘But it would seem a place for us to begin …?’

Her laughing eyes looked up challengingly into his. ‘To begin what?’

Benedict drew his breath in sharply even as a frown appeared between his eyes. ‘Genevieve—’

‘I am sorry, Benedict.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I am just so happy—pleased—to see you, to be with you, again.’

He carefully pulled his hands free of hers before answering. ‘As usual, your candour does nothing whatsoever to aid a gentleman’s self-control!’

Genevieve eyed him teasingly. ‘Perhaps
that is because, in your case, I have discovered I have no wish for it to do so?’

‘Is it only in my case—forget I said that.’ Benedict gave a self-disgusted shake of his head. ‘No doubt Woollerton would enjoy knowing that his remarks earlier have had their desired effect!’ he added harshly.

All the laughter left Genevieve’s expressive blue eyes, the smile fading from her lips. ‘And what remarks might they have been?’ The lightness of her tone was in complete contradiction to the sharpness of her gaze.