Page 84 of Bound By her Earl

“Hmph,” he said sourly.

The truth was, he was pleased to have Emily beside him. She was smart, adept at managing difficult people, and might see things that Benedict missed, blinded as he could be by the years of animosity between himself and his mother. Not to mention that she, too, deserved answers; it was her friend who had been the helpless victim of Priscilla’s cruel machinations.

And, he admitted privately, he felt stronger with her at his side. He had to be capable not only for his own sake but for hers, too. It was a responsibility he took seriously and one that, he had been surprised to find, brought him a great deal of happiness.

“Let’s go,” Emily said, tugging lightly on his hand. “No sense drawing out the unpleasantness.”

“Very well,” he agreed, not without some lingering reluctance. He approached the door, keeping Emily angled slightly behind him just in case, and knocked at the front door.

The maid who opened the door looked enormously surprised to see him, which Benedict supposed was fair. Despite Priscilla’s ranting about being thrown out into the cold, friendless streets of London, the dower house was a highly respectable property in a fashionable neighborhood that was staffed by a small party of servants. It was not the robust staff that Benedict enjoyed at Moore Manor, but Priscilla was far from needing to cook and clean for herself.

The staff here had all worked originally at Moore Manor, however, which meant they all knew perfectly well the animosity between the Dowager Countess and her son, the Earl.

“My Lord,” she greeted, quickly blinking away her shock. “And My Lady. Oh, pardon me, the footmen are shifting furniture. But do come in, please.”

Benedict gave the girl an encouraging smile, even though he was inwardly wincing at her nervous attitude. He hadn’t considered that his mother would take her ire out on the staff though of course he should have. Priscilla had always loved to bully others.

Well, that was another oversight he intended to correct today. And perhaps he’d send all the servants who had been exiled,however temporarily, to the dower house on a short, paid holiday as thanks for their suffering.

“That’s quite all right,” he reassured the girl as she led them to the parlor. “Can you please fetch my mother at once?”

“Of course, Your Lordship, Your Ladyship,” squeaked the girl, bobbing a hasty curtsey before scurrying off to do as she was told.

The Earl and Countess of Moore waited in cautious, unified silence for the arrival of Priscilla Hoskins, suspected murderess.

They didn’t have to wait long. The furious rustling of skirts announced Priscilla’s arrival seconds before the woman swept into the room, nose high in the air.

“When that mousy little girl told me my son was in the parlor, I nearly asked her which one before remembering that therewasonly one in this little hovel,” she complained. Damn it, but Benedict’s headache was already forming.

“But I suppose you are here to finally admit that you’ve wronged me and return me to my rightful place. Have you grown tired of that odious little bluestocking already?” She did a dramatic double take, as if just seeing Emily for the first time. “Oh,” Priscilla said flatly, “you’ve brought her along.”

“For what it’s worth,” Emily offered mildly, “I don’t think I’m quite learned enough to be a bluestocking. Though I thank you for the compliment to my intellect.”

Priscilla looked like she wanted to spit. As much as Benedict got a perverse thrill out of how easily Emily irritated his mother, he wanted to get this over and done with.

“Mother,” he said, putting on his most authoritative tone, “sit.” He gestured at a settee.

“I don’t know why you think you can order me about,” Priscilla sneered. “This isn’t even your house; it’s mine.”

Property laws being what they were, this absolutelywasBenedict’s house, but as his mother sat anyway, he decided not to press the issue. Not when there were so many more significant things to address.

Though, he noted without humor, his mother did elect to sit in an armchair rather than taking the spot he’d indicated. Shewouldbe difficult in the most minor ways, of course. Bloody typical.

He remained standing, using his height to his advantage as Emily sat in the place he’d initially indicated for his mother. As she passed him, she reached out slightly so that her fingers brushed his hand. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Priscilla, who looked disgusted.

“So is this what you’re here for?” she scoffed. “To flaunt your little union before me? I’m sureyou’repleased with yourself; you’ve got him wrapped around your finger,” she said to Emily.

Emily, whose capacity for cool headedness (with all opponents excepting Benedict) was truly a marvel, shrugged a shoulder.

“I’m quite pleased though not in the way you’re implying,” she said easily.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Benedict interjected. He didn’t like his mother’s attention on Emily. He reallyshouldhave left her home, not that she’d have allowed it. “We’re here to discuss your threats against the Duke of Graham.”

This visibly surprised Priscilla, who reared back in surprise before covering up her reaction with a blandly haughty look. “Graham? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said primly. “I scarcely know the man.”

“That is not true,” Benedict corrected. “You see, I’ve spoken to the Duke?—”

“You spoke to Graham?” Priscilla asked eagerly before frowning as she realized that this undermined her claims of innocence.

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