Page 43 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
A smile played at the earl’s lips.“You’ll have to ask Tommy that.But we are old, excellent friends.”
“He has few friends,” Benedict observed.Indeed, he was unaware Tommy had any others, excepting perhaps Sidney.But that seemed less a friendship and more like mutual reliance.
“Yes.”Rossingley nodded.“Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.”
He smiled at Benedict’s confusion.“The wisdom of Will Shakespeare.Tommy has faced imprisonment, poverty, and indescribable fear.He has learned to trust no one, and it has stood him in good stead.Hence the lack of close friends.”
The earl’s voice softened, though laced with amusement.“Secretly, though he has various convivial establishments, he prefers nothing more than quiet evenings at home with his ledgers and a good book.In that, you are well matched.”He gave Benedict a sly nudge.“Amongst other ways.”
Too busy blushing, Benedict missed Rossingley’s next comment.But what with warts, papayas, Rossingley’s revelations, and a reddened, lasting imprint of Tommy’s mouth barely tucked below the line of his high collar, Benedict needed a moment to himself.Alas, it was not to be.A smart barouche pulled up alongside the earl’s curricle, and two ladies, whom the duke should have known by name, fluttered their greetings.Fortunately, Rossingley was much more capable.
“Miss Caldicott and Miss Gresham!How delightful you are this fine morning!His Grace and I were only saying not five minutes hence how this overcast afternoon was in sore need of brightening with keen wit and vivacity.And here you both are!”
Two pretty, wide brimmed hats bobbed in unison.Two silk fans swished into action.
“Miss Caldicott insisted we admire the early spring blooms along the northern park border, my lord,” cooed Miss Gresham.“The promise of that season’s arrival is enough to survive the most bitter of winters, is it not?”
“Goodness, how marvellously you have conjured my own scattered contemplations into poetic verse.”Rossingley produced a flirtatious smile.“You are a lady of hidden talents, Miss Gresham.”
Something sharp pinched Benedict’s thigh.“This is the part of the conversation where it’s your turn to speak, darling.”
Goodness, discourse was so much easier when the ladies he was addressing were Lady Isabella and the Honourable Beatrice Hazard.Their expectations had been set at a suitably low bar years ago.
Benedict girded his loins.“Uh…sadly, without rain, the flowers will not flourish.According to a…um…botanical pamphlet from the Royal Society, the fallow months and rainfall are a necessary evil in order for the ground to build up good—”
“I trust our names are writ in bold gilt on your dance cards for the Wardholme soirée this evening, dear ladies?”the earl interjected, and Benedict’s thigh endured another harsh pinch.“His Grace here is positively itching to accompany you both for a turn around the floor.Aren’t you, Ashington?”
“Um…yes.Thrice!With both of you!”
The ladies tittered whilst Benedict tried to look like a man desperate to perform three polkas.
“Steady on, old chap,” Rossingley murmured.“We’re turning you into a rake, not a dancing bear.Issue our fond farewells, add something pithy and charming, and we’ll move on to the next.”
Benedict excelled at farewells.They were his favourite part of any social interaction.Doffing his hat, he bared his teeth in what he hoped was more a suave smile than a snarl.
“May the remainder of your afternoon ride be edged with sunshine and illuminated with beauty, ladies,” he declared, pleased with himself.“And I very much look forward to our reacquaintance this evening at Lady Wart—Wardholme’s.”
Rossingley was still tittering when they paused to exchange pleasantries with the occupants of the next carriage.And the next, and the one after that.By the fourth encounter, Benedict was struggling to maintain a polite façade too.
“So,” Rossingley surmised as they turned into the home straight.“Our plan of campaign for this evening—Eat heartily, as you have committed to practically every dance.Special attention, however, will be paid to the delightful and Honourable Beatrice Hazard, our dear, blemished Lady Wardholme herself, and the divine Mrs Catherine de Villiers.”
“I am not well acquainted with the latter.”
“You shall be,” responded Rossingley with a glittering smile.“In fact, thetonwill believe you to be mostthoroughlyacquainted with her before the night is out.And trust me, nothing would amuse that delightful lady more.”
“She may reverse that opinion after time in my company.”
Ignoring him, Rossingley carried on.“My valet informs me that Lord Lyndon has no plans to appear at any evening soirées for the foreseeable future, as he has travelled down to the south coast to nurse a twisted ankle and some unfortunate facial bruising.So, we have several occasions during which to firmly establish your rakery.”
“My enthusiasm knows no bounds,” muttered Benedict.
“Meanwhile,” continued the earl, “Tommy and my darling Kit will spend their evening overtly seeking and monopolising Lady Isabella’s attentions whilst Lord Francis mopes from the sidelines yet behaves impeccably.On board so far?”
Benedict was on board with an intent to sail off into the sunset (having first kidnapped Tommy), never to be seen again, thereby resolving all his problems in one fell swoop.He wondered if the Prussian’s had invented a fancy long word for that.
Chapter Seventeen
TOMMY TOOK PERVERSEjoy in attending smart balls in private houses.Especially when, strictly speaking, he hadn’t been invited.Other gentlemen guests acknowledged him, of course, even if the majority sneered at any person who worked for a living.They didn’t do so in his presence, naturally.They were too well bred for that and enjoyed the ambience of his club too much to risk being blackballed.Furthermore, sneering was damned awkward when he was a guest of not only the eleventh Earl of Rossingley but also the fourteenth Duke of Ashington.The handful of older ladies who recognised him (from back in the days when he never did anything he shone at for free) were as familiar with a part of his anatomy tucked behind the fall of his breeches as his pretty face.Thus, they tended to steer clear of him.
