Page 14 of Bound By her Earl

Benedict nodded then waited in the comfortable foyer, gazing idly around Drowton House. It was a nice enough place though something that Benedict could not quite put his finger on made it feel…impersonal, somehow. Strange, given that the eldest lady in the household was evidently Miss Emily.

He shook off the uncharacteristic thought. What did he care about a house’s décor? He was here for the expedient acquisition of a wife, and that was it.

Yet somehow, it seemed that merely thinking of Miss Rutley had been sufficient to summon her, as if she were some sort of cursed apparition created to stymie his plans. Because it was not the younger Rutley sister who appeared in the hallway after a few moments; it was the eldest, her hands on her hips and her face a mask of disapproval.

“What are you doing here?” she asked peevishly.

Benedict felt a gleam of a smile cross his face. Apparently, hewouldget to tell Miss Rutley that she was being absurd. Marvelous.

“Why Miss Rutley,” he said, feeling rather like the cat that had got the cream, “good morning to you.”

Disapproval melted into a full scowl.

“Why,” she said, coming closer, “are you here, My Lord?”

His title sounded like an epithet. It was very impressive.

“I am here to call upon your sister, of course,” he said, feigning shock just because it was certain to annoy her. “I am quite sure I said as much last night. Do you not recall? Are you quite well, Miss Rutley?”

Her expression was murderous.

“I think rather,” she said, tone acidic, “that it isyouwho is struggling with his memory as I very expressly forbade you coming to call upon Amanda.”

She’d taken another few steps towards him—as had he, he was astonished to realize. They were standing practically nose-to-nose now, something that would not have been possible with any other woman of his acquaintance. She really was quite tall, this eldest Miss Rutley. Uncommonly tall for a woman.

Benedict had always stood head and shoulders taller than every other man in the room; women too often made him feel like he was some other species entirely, so high did he tower above them. Miss Rutley had to tilt her head back to look at him, but she did not have to crane her neck. He found he liked that.

Liked it, he hastily amended, because he could more effectively give her his sternest look, of course.

“You,” he sneered, “do not have the authority to forbid me from calling upon your sister. You do not have the authority to command me in any way.”

Her eyes widened—no doubt in irritation. She opened her mouth to argue; the motion drew his attention to her lips. The lower one was rounded, pouty in a way that struck him as incongruous with her stubborn personality. She bit against it in a quick, frustrated motion, and Benedict’s mind flashed to the image ofhisteeth biting that lip and?—

He moved back so suddenly he almost stumbled. Christ, where was his head? He was here to court the sweet younger Miss Rutley, not the irksome elder one. This was likely just a sign that he was sensible to marry; it wasn’t natural for a man to go so long without a woman’s embrace. It had been too long since his last discreet liaison (one only had to meet Benedict’s mother to gain an appreciation for the value of discretion), and he found the quick interludes with merry widows or winsome actresses dissatisfying.

The benefit of a wife was the convenience of the thing. And the social approval. Then a man could easily resolve his bodily needs and return to his regular business.

Which was why he needed to keep his mind focused onmarriage.

He cleared his throat. Miss Rutley looked faintly surprised, perhaps at his sudden movement.

“In any case,” he said, his voice thicker than it had been a moment before, “you shan’t bully me?—”

“Bully!” Outrage supplanted the surprise; Miss Rutley gaped at him. “How dare?—”

“My Lord!”

A cheerful voice caused both Benedict and Miss Rutley to jerk their gazes upwards. There, on the landing, stood Miss Amanda Rutley, looking fresh and pink-cheeked, rather as though she had hurried to greet them.

When her welcoming smile turned briefly into a censoring look (this directed solely at her sister), Benedict decided that Miss Amandahadhurried—to break up the mounting argument.

A faint flicker of annoyance shot through him at the interruption. He’d not yet gotten to tell Miss Rutley what he thought of her antics. That was the only reason he disliked Miss Amanda’s arrival, naturally.

He pasted on a genteel smile. No matter what the Duke of Hawkins had implied the night prior, Benedictcouldbe charming.

“Good morning, Miss Rutley,” he said to the younger sister as she descended the stairs. “You are looking well this morning.”

“And you, My Lord,” she said, curtseying as she reached the bottom floor. “I am so glad you were still able to call after our—” Eyes flashed towards Miss Rutley the elder. “—interruption yesterday evening.”

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