Page 87 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“Exactly.” The younger man seemed relieved, as if he’d actually communicated some important bit of news.

Benjamin waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Er, bad feelings about what?”

“Oh.” Teddy grimaced. “I didn’t say. It’s rather difficult.” He took a breath to fortify himself. “The thing is, Mama’s got this notion that you’re Anna’s rightful property.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Teddy nodded. “You see? Beyond the line.”

You couldn’t expect clarity from a sheep, Benjamin thought. “I don’t understand what you mean byproperty.”

“Oh, right.” Teddy nodded like a man who often didn’t understand conversations and could sympathize. “The way Mama sees it, you’re a widowed neighbor in need of a wife. And Anna looks rather like the dead…previous one. So it only makes sense that you’ll offer for Anna. Eventually. Or that’s what she thinks, at any rate.”

Nonplussed, Benjamin glanced at the fellow’s sister. Anna Wandrell was blond like Alice, slender and delicate, but otherwise nothing like her.

“Only now she’s angry that you’ve a young lady staying at Furness Hall,” his companion continued. His words spilled out faster. “Seems to see it as poaching on Anna’s territory. Mama says she has to put an end to that, however she can. She took against your chaperone, too. Mrs. Thorpe, isn’t it? Mama’s asking questions about her, making a great mystery out of nothing. As she tends to do.” He frowned. “Mama ought to go on up to London. All those theaters, there, plenty of dramas without creating your own.”

Perhaps Teddy Wandrell wasn’t stupid, Benjamin thought, feeling a breath of concern waft over him. Perhaps the lad was careful. “You might tell your mother—” he began.

“I can’t tell her anything,” Teddy interrupted. “She won’t listen to me, and anyhow, I don’t want to rouse a fuss. Tellingyouinstead.” He gave a half shrug. “You aren’t likely to rail at me.”

“You think not?” A bit of shouting might have relieved Benjamin’s feelings. Just when his wooing was going well, this complication had to arise.

“Ride away if you did,” Teddy said. “Can’t ride away from Mama.”

“No.”

The younger man let out a long breath. “Said my piece. That’s it.” He kicked his horse’s flanks and moved off to join the ladies.

Benjamin let him go, striving to be grateful for the warning. Teddy had nothing to do with this problem, and Benjamin had far more important things to consider. How to watch over his household, for example. And how to preserve the future he hoped, trusted, was unfolding.

• • •

Sitting in the drawing room with Mrs. Thorpe later that day, Jean held a book from the library—a biography that Lord Macklin had recommended. But rather than the words on the page, her mind’s eye was full of Benjamin. Most particularly the image of him walking across his bedchamber with a handkerchief, clothed only in flickering candlelight. She hugged the memory to her, a secret joy.

She could go to his room again tonight, Jean thought. There was nothing to stop her. He’d welcome her with open arms. And then all she could think of was his arms around her again, his kisses, the feel of his body as they came together. Words likeproprietyandscandalwere puny in comparison.

“Whatever you’re considering, I hope you will weigh the consequences carefully,” said Mrs. Thorpe, as if reading Jean’s mind.

“What?” Was her face so transparent? Her new chaperone couldn’t know what she’d done. Unless Geoffrey had let something slip? But she didn’t think he had. That boy was good with secrets.

“I’m happy to look out for you this little while,” said the older woman. “But we’ve scarcely met and don’t really know each other at all. So you must look out for yourself, too.”

“Idolook out for myself.” She’d been doing that since the moment she was able. She would never stop, whatever her future held.

“The thing of it is, it’s difficult to see clearly when you’re in love.”

“I’m not in love!”

“My dear.” The older woman looked at her with skeptical kindness.

“I don’t even know what that silly phrase means.” Her mother had despised it more than any other.

“Are you asking me to define love? I’m not sure even the great poets have managed to do that.”

“I’m not asking you anything.” The strident inner voice that haunted Jean rose up in fury. Jean pushed it back, but she couldn’t resist trying some of its phrases on Mrs. Thorpe. “‘In love’ is what seducers say, and then forget about as soon as they’ve gotten what they wanted.”

“Sometimes it is,” agreed her chaperone, unshaken.

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