Page 57 of Indecent
“I’m shocked you don’t care, to be honest,” Bennet said quietly.
“Did you expect me to hold a grudge?” Wexford sipped his whisky. “Who has the patience for that? Anyway, I’m deliriously happy, and you don’t seem disappointed by how things turned out. In fact, I’d say you seem rather…pleasant, all things considered.”
Hehadbeen disappointed in Croydon. And furious. Which had provoked him to commit a terrible act that had somehow turned out to be far from disappointing. Yes, he was pleasant. He was almosthappy.
Well, hehadbeen for a few days. Now, he was venturing toward true disappointment because he had to save his bloody estate and family. His happiness had nothing to do with his duty.
Bennet finished his whiskey. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find more of this noxious brew you persuaded me to drink.” He stood and took himself off to the library where he could refill his glass. He could have asked a footman, but in truth, he found Wexford’s happiness a bit constricting.
“Glastonbury, a word, please.” Lucien approached him with a rather determined set to his brow.
Bennet finished pouring his whisky, then followed Lucien to a quiet corner. He could well imagine what was coming next. “Evening, Lucien.”
“I don’t wish to press you, but I’m rather keen to show that ring to my aunt.” Lucien’s gaze darted to Bennet’s hand, but of course, he wasn’t wearing the ring. “Where is it?”
“I left it at home. I don’t always wear it.”
“Have you come to a decision?”
“Not yet.” Bennet sipped his whiskey, his jaw clenching.
Lucien’s brows pitched even lower over his dark eyes. “It’s a family heirloom. You must understand how important it is for me to recover it.”
“I do understand. And I am empathetic. It’s just that I’ve become rather attached to it, silly as that sounds.”
Lucien stared at him. “It rightfully belongs to my family. It has to have been stolen.”
“You don’t know that.” Unless he did. Bennet tensed, his hand gripping the glass tightly. “Did you learn something about it?”
“Not yet, but I plan to speak with my aunt.”
Bennet realized he was nearly out of time. Which meant Prudence was nearly out of time. He could see that Lucien wasn’t going to be able to sustain his patience. “Give me until tomorrow?”
Lucien’s jaw worked, but he ultimately nodded. “Tomorrow.”
“I’ll bid you good evening.” Bennet left the library, but didn’t want to return to the members’ den. Instead, he went downstairs, took one more drink of whiskey, then gave his glass to a footman. Claiming his hat and gloves, he left the Phoenix Club and made his way to St. James’s Square, where he hailed a hack.
During the ride to his small terrace near Bloomsbury Square, he planned the note he would dispatch to Prudence first thing in the morning. He’d send it now, but it was far too late to deliver correspondence to a polite address. Not without provoking curiosity.
She had to make a decision. He hated pushing her, but Lucien wouldn’t wait any longer. Perhaps Bennet should just tell him the ring had been stolen, that he’d been accosted by a footpad and hadn’t wanted to tell him.
Bennet scrubbed a hand over his face. That “explanation” sounded quite weak.
When he arrived home, Bennet went straight to his small office at the back of the narrow ground floor. He penned the note to Prudence, asking her to meet him in the park tomorrow afternoon, if she was able.
“Evening, my lord.” Mrs. Hennings, his housekeeper and only retainer save Tom, the aging coachman, poked her head into the open doorway. In her middle fifties, she was widowed with grown children, and one of the hardest workers Bennet had ever met. She was also fiercely kind. “Do you need anything before I turn in?”
“I don’t, thank you. I was going to say you’re up late tonight, but I suppose I’m home early.”
“You are indeed,” she said, her light blue eyes perusing him. “If you don’t mind my saying, you’ve been different since returning to town. I know you’re going through a bit of a rough time. I hope it’s not too troublesome.”
Servants were often more knowledgeable about gossip than their employers. Mrs. Hennings was astute and loyal. He wasn’t surprised she would mention it, nor did he worry that she was contributing to the rumors. She’d been with him for four years, and his only regret was that she didn’t have help to ease her burden.
“Nottoo.” He gave her a wry smile. “What have you heard, Mrs. Hennings? No need to soften the blow. Be honest.”
She grimaced, her lips thinning. Straightening, she stepped into the office. “The neighborhood was rather taken with the news of your…problems a few weeks ago. The talk died down a bit, but it’s picked up again since you returned to town.”
“That’s to be expected. I hope you aren’t concerned that you won’t be paid.” He would hate for her to think that, and he would never let things come to that. He would find her a new, better-paying position before he couldn’t pay her wages.
