Page 46 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
“You are right.But this snatched moment is not enough.”Benedict squeezed his hand, bringing it to his lips.“You…we have much time to make up.”He hesitated, his eyes twin bright spots in the dark.“If that is something you want too?After…after everything?”
“Yes,” Tommy breathed.“Yes.”
Benedict smiled his slow, wary smile, the one that melted Tommy’s bones.The one Tommy had believed lost to him forever, set in amber for all time, perfectly stored.The smile of the youth—of Tommy’s lost lordling, innocent and shy and so damned sweet, perfuming the very air Tommy breathed.
Tommy returned it with his own exceptionally ordinary one.“I find I can deny you nothing,Benedict.”
“Aah,” Benedict kissed each knuckle.“I like how that sounds on your tongue.”
The doors to the terrace were flung wide.As chatter drifted across the garden, the duke peered over Tommy’s shoulder.
“Listen,” he said urgently.“I have a small hunting lodge, only a two-hour ride southwest from here.Ordinarily, one doesn’t visit until the Glorious Twelfth, but it is not unheard of for me to drop by after a long hack.To be hacking with a gentleman friend would not be so peculiar.We could ride out there tomorrow if you… I could send a groom on ahead with a message to set fires, to ready the house, to do ah…whatever is entailed before my arrival.My household comes from the village each day—they do not stay overnight.We…we would be quite alone.Or if tomorrow doesn’t suit, then perhaps a weeks’ hence.Or even a month, two months.A year!”
After that hurried, long speech, the duke sucked in a deep breath.“Say yes?”he pleaded.
A shiver swept through Tommy at the picture Benedict painted of dark wood-panelled rooms, a log fire, cosy nooks, a private bedchamber.Of the duke’s long, solid body laid out under him, on top of him, wrapped around him with no one but Tommy within miles to hear that gut-wrenching tiny noise he made in the back of his throat just before he—
“I have business engagements tomorrow which can’t be postponed,” Tommy said, and when the duke’s face fell, quickly added, “But the day after, then, yes.”
Chapter Eighteen
“YOU HAVE BEENquite the twinkletoes this evening, Your Grace,” Beatrice observed as they performed a (thankfully) sedate waltz.Any faster, and Benedict might collapse in a heap.Afternoons sparring at Gentleman Jack’s were much kinder on the feet.And the jaw.
At least with Beatrice, he could give the inane chatter a rest.“And you have been quite the harridan,” he admonished.“Poor Mr L’Esquire is terrified of you.”
Beatrice laughed.“Oh, come, Your Grace, he’s made of sterner stuff than that.Isabella is already enchanted by him.And by the Earl of Rossingley’s chum, Mr Angel, also.He is outrageously charming.Between the two of them, Lord Ludham will be greasing Lord Francis’s fist with double Isabella’s allotted portion before the week is out.I sat beside him at supper, and I swear he had fewer grey hairs at the start of the evening than by the finish of dessert.”
“Then we must hope Francis’s ridiculous plan is working.”Benedict stepped forward, rising on his right foot as his partner stepped back with her left.“Isabella is perfectly safe with both gentlemen, by the by, in case you were at all concerned.”
“Not a jot.”Beatrice nodded to a passing acquaintance.“I sense that both Mr Angel and Mr L’Esquire prefer theiramoursto beof a more rugged nature.”As one, they performed a neat spin.Beatrice brought her lips close to Benedict’s ear.“As, I believe, do you.”
Rich claret turned to stone in his belly.How did one respond to that?His face burned as if in fever as, with an ungainly lurch, he stumbled over his next step, nearly sending them both crashing to the floor.A move far too adventurous, even for a newly anointed rake.
“Oh, do not fret, Your Grace,” Lady Beatrice murmured as she righted them both.“I have suspected for some time.”
“I have…” Benedict groped in vain for a sensible riposte.“I hoped…really?”
“Really.”She smiled.“But I am a steadfast keeper of secrets.Especially when they bear considerable weight.”
“It is a secret I planned on taking to the grave.I was…I was not born to stand out in such a way, to be of a different nature.I do not have the nerve for it.”
“I’m afraid one cannot fight it, Your Grace.”She regarded him so tenderly that tears plucked at his eyes.“Only dead fish go with the flow.And we have but one life.My dear father has always drummed into me that one must not waste it being a facsimile of what one is not.It is excellent advice, no?”
“Yes.”Benedict blinked rapidly, then swallowed.“And I…I have come to realise that in recent days.”Very gently, he squeezed the small hand clasped in his.“And also, that I have many friends.”
They danced in perfect accord after that, almost like lovers.Indeed, if the duke had been granted more than one life, then sharing it together as husband and wife would have been a most amicable way to spend it.As they floated around the dance floor, Benedict became increasingly aware their happiness in each other’s arms was under scrutiny.
Beatrice smiled up at him.“Your situation and our close friendship serve us both excellently, does it not?We can sully my good name with the gossipmongers so that I will not be obliged to attend these blasted cattle markets next season.I can retreat into happy spinsterhood.And you will gain the reputation as a dastardly duke of the lowest morals.Which means you and your delectable Mr L’Esquire may continue your discreet trysts until either one, or both of you, is thoroughly sick of the other.Which I suspect will be never.”
Her beatific smile turned sly.“He’s the person, isn’t he?The one who has held your heart all these years.Whom you once wronged?”She leaned closer conspiratorially.“You don’t have to say yes if it’s too difficult.Simply blink twice.”
Hiding one’s face in one’s hands was not an option with a dance partner in hold.Benedict groaned, the next best thing.“Even now, Beatrice, as you flail my secret desires wide open, you have the capacity to bring me joy.Will it appease your inquisitive mind if I confess that man sparks something inside me that I have never felt with anyone else?”
“It is mere confirmation of what I already guessed, Your Grace.”
As they performed a tricky closed change, a dense fog of smug satisfaction radiated from Beatrice’s slight form.Every now and again, she caught Benedict’s eye, raising a shapely eyebrow.
“You, too, deserve every bit of happiness you can find, my dear Beatrice,” he said at last.
