Page 5 of Indecent
Instead, Bennet had lost—not only his pride, but a major source of income he’d been expecting. How in the hell was he going to meet his obligations? It wasn’t as if he could continue to let them lapse, especially where his relatives were concerned.
He began to shake as a familiar sensation of panic and desperation crept over him. His skin felt cold and clammy, and the room began to fade. This couldn’t be happening. He’d staved it off for so long, but he worried his collapse was inevitable. Last night’s criminal actions had proved that Bennet was no better than the most afflicted in his family…those who fought to keep themselves in check, to battle the darkness that threatened to overwhelm and drive them into inescapable despair and delusion.
Sitting up, he dropped his head between his legs and braced his palms on his thighs. He took deep, staggering breaths, willing himself to settle before his mind was completely out of his grasp. That had never happened—not yet. But it would. Someday.
Gradually, he began to calm, his pulse slowing and his breathing becoming more even. He could manage this. Hewouldfind an heiress. There was nothing wrong with marrying into the merchant class.
And what of Miss Lancaster? He looked toward her again, feeling weary. Was there a chance she wouldn’t tell what had happened? Surely, she’d want to protect her reputation.
He closed his eyes and silently cursed himself. Not only was he destitute and a scheming criminal, he was also an absolute scoundrel. The worst sort of gentleman.
But when he thought of those who would suffer because of his father’s actions, Bennet felt a renewed purpose. They were his responsibility, and he would ensure they were taken care of for the rest of their days.
Pushing himself up from the chair, Bennet caught the thin blanket before it slid to the floor. He set it on the cushion and stoked the fire, building it back into a low flame. Satisfied, he meandered toward the bed.
Miss Lancaster lay on her back, one hand resting beside her cheek against the pillow. Her features were barely visible with only the light from the kindled fire and the gray dawn to illuminate her. She was very beautiful, far more attractive than he’d ever noticed, truth be told. But then she’d always been a part of the background. Now she was in the center, her outrage demanding attention.
Her blonde hair was braided, but wispy curls had escaped, some brushing her temple and jaw. Long lashes curled against her cheek. Beneath them glittered moss-green eyes that had appeared almost jewellike in her well-justified fury. Pink bow lips had berated him with great effect, and her pert nose had wrinkled with her distaste of him.
He felt truly awful about what had happened to her. Hiring a trio of questionable fellows at the fight had been an abominable idea, one borne of abject desperation. But a part of him must have known Cassandra wouldn’t want to come. Why else would he have hired men like that or arranged to have them deliver her to him here, twenty miles from Croydon? He was a villain, deserving of Miss Lancaster’s outrage and much more.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll get you back to London first thing.”
And then what would happen? Would she tell everyone what he’d done?
Her employer was the Duke of Evesham, who was already inclined to at least dislike Bennet, if not loathe him. Perhaps the duke would prosecute him for kidnapping.
A ball of tension formed in Bennet’s gut, and he expected it to remain for quite some time.
Turning, Bennet fetched his boots and threw on his coat. He left the room, careful to close the door quietly behind him. He crept downstairs and was glad to find the innkeeper, Mr. Logan, already about. The man was old enough to be Bennet’s father, though he was far more helpful and caring than Bennet’s own had ever been.
“Morning, my lord,” Logan said with a smile. “I trust your betrothed arrived last night as planned?”
Bennet had informed Logan and his wife that his future viscountess would be joining him. It wasn’t as if he could have hidden her, and he wasn’t going to have her stay in another room, not by herself.
“She did, thank you,” Bennet lied. Logan didn’t need to know that Miss Lancaster wasn’t the woman he’d expected.
“Splendid. I’m sorry you won’t be able to leave today, but it’s just as well since the rain is so heavy.”
On his way to the table situated next to the hearth, Bennet snapped to attention. “What’s that? Why can’t we leave?”
Logan’s brow creased. “Begging your pardon, my lord, I thought you knew about the coach. The journey with her ladyship seems to have been rough, and the brake block is in dire need of replacement.”
“Can your stable master fix it?” Bennet asked. Riverview wasn’t a typical inn with a steady stream of travelers where problems like this could more easily be repaired. It was unfortunate that his own coachman, Tom, wasn’t with him on this trip. He’d been ill, so Bennet had hired someone to drive his coach to Croydon. Then he’d hired a horse to ride here on his own while the men he’d paid to take Lady Cassandra had driven his coach to the inn.
“Indeed, my lord. However, the stable master will need to send his lad into town to purchase a block when the rain settles down a bit. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to finish the repair and get you on the road before late afternoon or evening.”
Bennet had known they couldn’t leave until afternoon, at least, since the horses would need to rest, and he couldn’t afford to switch them. He’d already been struggling to afford to hire someone to drive to Aberforth Place, which wasn’t necessary now. Still, he needed someone to drive them to London, unless he wanted to add to his notoriety by playing coachman. Christ, this had been an incredibly short-sighted plan.
“What will that cost?” Bennet asked cautiously. “I don’t carry much blunt on me—don’t like to travel the road with a great deal of coin, you understand.”
Logan smiled. “Of course not, my lord. Never mind the cost. I know you’ll cover it on your next visit.”
Bennet had always done that. He did his best to pay his debts, and so far always had. Settling his father’s debts, however, was another matter entirely.
“Thank you, Logan, I appreciate you very much.” The innkeeper and his wife were unfailingly kind. Bennet had stayed at Riverview several times on his way to London from Aberforth Place. Their small inn, which was as much a farm, was outside Hersham and thus cheaper, which was why he’d chosen it the first time—everything Bennet did was based on economy. It was why he’d had ale last night and not the fortified wine Miss Lancaster would have preferred. And frankly should have had.
“I’ll let Mrs. Logan know you’re down. She’ll want to bring your coffee personally.” Logan gave Bennet a warm grin before bustling off. He was a small man, but bursting with energy and surprising strength. Bennet used to wonder how he and his wife managed everything, but after coming to know them, he understood completely. They worked hard and found joy in their toil. The innkeeper liked to tell Bennet that if one wasn’t bone-tired at the end of the day, he ought to redouble his efforts the next.
