Page 6 of Bound By her Earl

“Well, I think I’d be allowed to keep my own name.” Benedict could not believe he was engaging in this absurd conversation. “I suppose I’d just be Hoskins.”

“Hm,” Evan mused. “Suits you.”

With a huff, Benedict reminded himself that he didn’t have enough friends to go about alienating any. “I daresay, Ockley,” he bit out. “it’smy name.”

“Just so,” Evan agreed affably, but the gleam in his eye gave him away.

Benedict sighed and stopped brushing at his jacket. “You,” he accused, “are being purposefully antagonistic.”

“I might be,” Evan agreed.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are dreadfully annoying?”

The instant the question left his lips, Benedict regretted it. For someonehadbeen constantly complaining, in a good-natured way, that Evan drove her mad—his younger sister, Grace, who had been abducted and killed three years prior. Benedict knew that Evan hated discussing his sister, knew that his friend still harbored guilt over failing to protect her.

The pain Evan felt over his sister’s loss had been a wound that was torn open again the previous year, when it had come to light that Grace had not been killed by the late Duke of Hawkins, as had been long assumed. Instead, she’d been killed by a man named Theodore Dowling.

It was Benedict’s family’s connection, however tenuous, to Dowling that made him cringe the most…

In an effort to distract his friend from his painful memories, Benedict took up a new line of complaint. Evan loved to mock Benedict’s complaints.

“I cannot believe you dragged me to this…circus,” he lamented, waving an arm out over the crowd. “Remind me again why I agreed to do this?”

The look Evan shot him suggested that his friend knew precisely what Benedict was up to…but that he appreciated it, nonetheless.

“You are here,” Evan said, “because you want to marry this Season. Now, why you want to do that is beyond me, man; you’re young yet, and you have plenty of time to wed and bed one of Society’s darlings and get yourself an heir. But you have proven obstinate on this, as in most things, so here we are.”

“My father did not live a long life,” Benedict pointed out. “I may not have time to waste.”

“Your father was nearly fifty when he died,” Evan returned. “You are six and twenty. And unless you think falling off horses runs in families, I’m not sure you’re on the right path with that logic.”

Benedict shrugged. In truth, he had no real reason to suspect he should live anything but a long life. Even so, his father’s sudden death had taught him that things happened beyond one’s control. Procrastination was never a wise move.

Therefore, Benedict saw no reason to dally in getting himself a wife and heir. It was something he could check off his list of responsibilities easily enough. He just had to find someone appropriate.

“Don’t tell me about logic,” he grunted irritably.

When he looked back at his friend, Evan was peering at him curiously.

“Don’t bite my head off,” he said, “but you seem…slightly more peevish than usual. Might I ask why?”

“I amnotpeevish,” Benedict snapped. Then he held up a hand before Evan could reply. “Yes, fine, I heard it. I just had an unpleasant encounter with a woman is all.”

“Oh, yes?” Evan asked, looking intrigued. “Do say more.”

With another beleaguered sigh, Benedict recounted his spat with the woman.

“She really was very abominably rude,” he concluded.

“Indeed,” Evan said with mock sagacity. “It sounds very much likeshewas being abominably rude.”

“Do shut up,” Benedict responded irritably which only made Evan laugh aloud. “Stop laughing at me and try to focus on the matter at hand, will you? You know perfectly well that the Season is only slightly less chaotic than the madhouse, so I need to start meeting ladies posthaste, otherwise all the respectable ones will find themselves inundated by suitors.”

“Most of those are unlikely to be an earl, though,” Evan pointed out.

“That fact has somewhat less impact when coming from someone poised to inherit a dukedom,” Benedict observed idly, “but yes, fine, I take your point. Even so, there’s no sense in dallying. Help me meet some suitable ladies, so we can depart this absolute circus.”

“I don’t mind a ball, personally,” Evan commented offhandedly though he sighed when he saw Benedict’s baleful look. “Oh, yes, all right. Let’s get to business.” He raised an eyebrow as an idea seemed to occur to him. “Wait, I’ve got it—why don’t you ask the lady who’s put you into such a pique if she would like to dance?”

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