“And I returned.” Benjamin strolled toward his disheveled houseguest. In his ancestress’s gown, Miss Saunders was an unsettling combination of little girl playing dress-up and lush courtesan, with her clothes falling off and her curling hair making a determined break for freedom.
She gathered the heavy skirts and retreated to a rank of trunks a little distance away. “I was just… I’ll put on my own gown.”
Benjamin walked a bit closer.
“If you will goaway.”
“But I came up to help you look for toys for Geoffrey.” It was an increasing delight to tease her. There was something so charming about the look she got, which said she knew precisely what he was up to and refused to stoop to acknowledge it. And yet she couldn’t help but react.
“I haven’t found any.”
“Only a hoard of finery.” Benjamin walked along the row of trunks and glanced inside them. He rummaged through one at the end and pulled out a child’s tunic and breeches in deep-blue velvet. “What about this?”
“Just like a chocolate box,” said Miss Saunders.
“What?”
She half shrugged, which had a tantalizing effect on her gown. “Geoffrey would never wear that.”
“Perhaps if I told him it was an ancient horseman’s garb.”
“I don’t think he’d believe you. And if he did, he’d be bound to spoil the velvet.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Benjamin replaced the small garments and picked up a satin coat. “I think I remember my grandfather wearing something like this, with lots of lace at his shirtfront. Perhaps it was this very coat.” He held it up and looked closer. “I’m not sure. He died when I was around Geoffrey’s age.” He smiled at his disheveled companion. “Grandpapa didn’t care much for change at the last. Or for what people thought of his appearance. He wore what he liked.” Geoffrey would have appreciated that attitude, Benjamin thought. “He had a dueling scar across his cheek.” His hand went to his own face to demonstrate. “A bit puckered and quite frightening, as I recall. They don’t seem to go together—all this frippery and bloody sword work.”
“I imagine gentlemen took off their coats when dueling,” replied Miss Saunders.
Benjamin laughed.
“You should try it on,” she added in an odd tone.
He looked at her, hands clutching the brocade bodice to keep it from sliding off, a beam of sunlight shining through the uninhibited glory of her hair. Holding her gaze, Benjamin slowly took off his coat. “No wigs,” he said. “I draw the line there.”
“I haven’t found any,” she answered breathily.
He donned the bright satin garment. It fit well enough, only a little tight in the shoulders. It felt strange to have wide skirts around his legs. He made an elaborate bow. “Pon rep, my lady, I am so pleased to see you. I hope I find you in better health?”
“What do you mean, better?”
Benjamin straightened. “I’ve been concerned about you since—”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “My…outburst in the library was quite uncharacteristic, I assure you. It won’t happen again.”
“No apology is necessary.”
“I wasn’t apologizing.” Coppery glints snapped in the depths of her eyes. “Only informing you that all is well.”
He didn’t believe her, though he couldn’t have said why. Her bearing and expression were calm, her manner quelling. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about the bout of weeping, and he had no right to press her. Why should he wish to? “I don’t know how ladies moved about in those gowns.” He indicated the sweep of peach brocade trailing over the floorboards.
“With stately elegance,” she replied.
“That is to say, very slowly. Have you seen the sort of shoes they wore? Teetering along on four-inch heels must have made it hard to run away.”
“From what?” she asked with a quizzical glance.
“Anything.” Benjamin had spoken randomly. All his attention was on her, leaving his tongue unsupervised. “Bears.”
“Bears?” She laughed.