Chapter Eight
She was here, swaying him! How could he keep his heart steadfast to his cause, which he’d boasted was bigger than love and devotion when she made him think of everything but fighting?
“Fable,”
he said moving closer to her, “you look very pleasing in your boots and short pants, but you were born to be dressed in finery.”
When she blushed and looked away, he moved closer, using caution, lest he startle her and she run away.
“Are you ready, Miss Ramsey?”
he asked, offering his elbow to her.
She nodded, and without a moment of hesitation, she took his arm, held up her chin, and faced the outer door.
He wanted to smile beside her.
He feared he’d be smiling all night.
He wanted to flick his coat lapel, suck in his bottom lip, and smile like a boastful prince who’d just snatched the damsel from the mouth of the dragon.
In fact, he’d sent his men out in every direction and tripled his efforts to find the traveler.
He had no doubt he would be found any day now.
“If your feet hurt at any time, let me know and I’ll carry you.”
She looked up at him and laughed softly.
“I’ll stay on my own two feet if I have to wear them down to the bone rather than have you carry me in front of those women.”
“You’re stubborn and strong-willed.”
“Too much for you, Duke?”
she teased.
“No.
I like it.”
When she laughed softly again, he wondered by what miracle did she find him so humorous? He didn’t really care how.
He liked it.
He liked making her smile and laugh.
It made it easier for him to do the same.
“Are you hungry?”
he asked.
He also liked eating with her.
She enjoyed her food, even sometimes speaking while she ate.
The noble ladies he knew wouldn’t be caught doing anything but nibbling at their food.
And never speaking at the same time.
Men knew not to even ask questions to ladies while they ate.
But Fable appreciated every morsel of food she put in her mouth.
And Ben enjoyed watching her.
Now, he led her to the ballroom, stepping with her through the open doors and into a myriad of pastel-colored gowns and the sweet sounds of violins and guitars, cellos, and harpsichords.
He felt the eyes of every guest on him…on Miss Ramsey.
He turned to look at her on his arm.
She appeared like a graceful flame, a daughter of royalty.
She was delicate, strong, and confident when her cerulean gaze met his and the hint of a smile hovered around her lips.
Yes, she swayed him from concerns he thought were bigger, more important than thoughts of…love and devotion.
He scoffed at himself and turned away.
She’d insisted she wasn’t affected by him.
He intended to prove to her that he disagreed.
Even if he lost, he’d still succeed in trying.
He led her to a table with a slanted bench, meant for a lady with a hooped gown to lean against and rest her feet, or eat comfortably.
Ben positioned her on the bench and lifted his hand for a server to bring him some food and drink.
“Your Grace.”
An older woman pounced before he sat.
“It’s so good to see you again.”
Lady Witham, wife of the Viscount of Witham.
She was here with her husband and daughter.
Ben almost groaned out loud.
“We enjoyed your birthday celebration last year,”
she continued, ignoring the woman he came with.
“Lady–”
Ben began.
“You remember my daughter, Miss Gwendolyn Hollister?”
And as if on cue, her daughter appeared and stepped under her arm.
Ben stared at the girl’s mother, unprepared for her rude behavior.
But it only took him an instant to recover.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.
Let me introduce Miss Fable Ramsey, my…”
He blinked at her, not sure of what to say.
“...his guest,”
Miss Ramsey supplied, smiling straight at them, making him feel a little feverish.
He tugged at his cravat.
His guest, he thought pensively.
It meant nothing–or it could mean everything.
Neither the mother nor her daughter knew.
“Where is your family from, Miss Ramsey?”
Lady Witham asked her with narrowed eyes.
“Ipswich,”
Fable supplied, putting down her spoon.
“Oh? What brings you to Colchester?”
Miss Hollister asked her.
“I often wonder the same thing,”
Fable told them candidly.
“I think it’s the same reason you’re here.
His Grace.”
Both women gaped and scoffed until they coughed.
“You’re quite bold, Miss Ramsey,”
Lady Witham said with distaste.
“She’s delightfully honest,”
Ben was quick to defend her.
But he didn’t have to, for with her most radiant smile, Miss Ramsey put out the fire before it started. “Miss–”
“Lady Witham,”
Ben interrupted in a low voice and with a warm smile aimed at Fable.
“Lady Witham,”
she corrected herself, “Let’s face it, His Grace the Duke of Colchester knows he’s the most sought after unwed duke in all of Britain.
He knows why you’re here with your daughter.
It’s for him.
He values honesty.
So let’s be truthful, ladies, shall we? Our dear duke deserves that.”
“Our dear duke?”
he repeated when the mother and daughter left them alone again.
“Of course.”
She glanced up at him with a smile.
“Should I have said my dear duke?”
His heart jumped and skipped.
Yes, you should have said that.
He kept his mouth closed for another moment–just to steady his voice.
“You did claim to be truthful, after all.”
Her smile slanted into a smirk.
“Are you saying I lied by not claiming you as mine?”
“No,”
he answered smoothly.
“I’m not yours.”
Did he want to be? “What you said was correct.”
Her suddenly easy smile returned.
It made him light-headed.
If one believed in magical beings, like faeries, she was what one would expect to find after peeling back the petals of a peony or a rose.
He smiled back.
He couldn’t help it if he wanted to, which he didn’t.
“So I’m still ‘delightfully honest’ then?”
He nodded, watching her take a sip from her cup.
“How can you be sure that there are still things about me I haven’t told you?”
She was correct, but he didn’t want to admit it.
What could she be hiding?
“Ah, there you are, Brother.
Where did you disappear to?”
Ben downed the wine in his cup and stood up again as his sister approached.
When Fable turned to see her, Prudence paused her steps.
Her face flushed.
Her jaw clenched.
Ben flashed her a warning glare before she opened her mouth.
“I didn’t know your guest was attending,”
she said, pretending to reign in her anger.
“Does this mean Miss Ramsey’s name will be added to your list of candidates for a wife?”
“No–”
“Good because–”
– “because there are no candidates.”
– “I would never allow a marriage between you.”
He scowled, caught between astonished disbelief and anger.
“You would never allow it? What ever led you to believe you had that kind of power over me?”
She stared up at him with her hand at her chest, and stepped back from the detached soldier she’d been living with for the past three years, and many years before that.
“Do you realize how much I put into this ball…for you?”
she accused quietly.
“What does who I wed have to do with you?”
he demanded just as quietly.
Still his tone drew others’ attention.
“When you wed so beneath you that it awakens father asleep in Sheol and he turns over in his grave from the shame of his son.”
Nothing seemed to have changed in the ballroom.
The musicians still played, people still danced and laughed, but something was different.
It was as if the familial veil was lifted from Ben’s eyes and he looked a haughty, heartless woman in the face, disgusted at what he saw.
“Ben…”
she tried, somehow knowing she’d stepped over a line carved in ice.
“I didn’t mean–”
He held up his palm to stop her and looked at Miss Ramsey.
This time she wasn’t smiling. “Come.”
He held his elbow out to her.
“The tables have been moved.
No one can dance until I do.
Let’s dance and then leave.”
He knew Prudence was biting her tongue to stay quiet.
He was choosing Miss Ramsey as his first–and only dance.
Miss Ramsey fit her hand into the crook of his arm and kept her head down as he led her past his sister and to the center of the ballroom.
When he slipped his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her head, he saw tears spilling down her alabaster skin.
“Shall we go?”
he asked in a quiet voice and pulled her closer.
“Of course not.”
She smiled lightly and swiped her fingers across her cheeks.
“I didn’t suffer with bones jabbing me everywhere from my clothes for not even one dance with you.”
He should feel pity for her–and he did–but he smiled, then laughed softly.
He held her while the music played and she learned the steps to an English country-dance called The Romance.
“Sir,”
she told him when he twirled her out and then pulled her back.
“I think I should go back to my room.”
“Why?”
He stopped immediately and bent to pick her off her feet.
She swatted his hand away.
“I’m tired.
Really.
That’s all.
There’s no need for you to escort me there.”
First he looked at her as if she’d gone mad, and then he asked her if she had.
“Ben,”
she leaned in closer so only he could hear her.
“Send someone else to bring me back.
I insist.
Do what you promised your sister you would do.
Get to know these ladies a little.
Emphasis on a little, okay?”
“Fable, I know you jest because I have no intention of getting to know anyone.”
“But how will you know if you’ve really found her if you haven’t met everyone?”
He dipped his brows and feigned a glare, but it didn’t last long before it disintegrated into something much warmer.
“How much better than you can anyone be?”
“She could be the king’s niece and can put in a good word for you with her uncle.”
He chuckled at how pleasing she was to him.
“I don’t need her for that.”
“She could come from a family with money and you could live comfortably.”
“I’m used to sleeping in tents and dirt ditches,”
he let her know.
What was he doing? Was he truly thinking of taking her as a wife? No! He didn’t want a wife.
This was a game.
She said so herself.
He was supposed to be charming her and here he was thinking of marrying her! It was because he liked her, He couldn’t deny it.
“Stay and keep your promise,”
she told him, already breaking away.
“The peace you get from it will be worth it.”
He frowned at Prudence then reached out to pull Sudbury in from his path toward Ben’s sister.
“Escort Miss Ramsey back to her rooms,”
he requested of his friend.
“Of course,”
Sudbury said, turning his gaze to Ben.
He smiled at Fable next and motioned for her to follow him.
“Lord Sudbury!”
Prudence stopped them before they reached the door.
“Where do you think you're going with her?”
“Your brother asked me to–”
“I don’t care what he asked.
Don’t you dare leave this hall.”
“Prudence.”
Now Ben stepped forward.
“She insists on going back to her room and making me keep my promise to you by not going with her.
I won’t send her back alone.
So either Sudbury escorts her or I will.
Which is it?”
Prudence clenched her jaw but then looked worried and rubbed her forehead while she decided which of the two men she was less concerned with losing to Miss Ramsey.
“Simon, you escort her.”
Sudbury stared at her for a moment.
Ben dipped his gaze knowing Sudbury long enough to know when his friend was angry.
It didn’t happen often and when it did, Prudence was usually the cause.
She was stubborn and prideful, though not always as mean-spirited as she’d been since Ben showed interest in a woman of no status.
Without a word, the earl splayed his palm against Miss Ramsey’s back and led her out of the ballroom.
Ben wanted to go after them; his best friend and his…his…
He cut his glare to Prudence.
Her contempt for the poor was proof of her fear of becoming the same.
What could Fable ever be in his life with Prudence here? “If you don’t wed Sudbury soon, I’ll find you a husband to quicken your departure from this house.”
Tears gathered at the rims of her eyes but they didn’t fall.
“You find it easy to be cruel.
Ever since that day…we found out…”
She paused to gather her strength.
“You can be a monster, Benjamin.”
When he looked away and took a step to leave, she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“I know how much you suffer.
Don’t you understand that? I know the reason you hate being here and yet you can’t leave.
I know what it’s doing to you.
And I know you need someone to–”
“Pru,”
he quieted her, softening his tone, “I’m not a child anymore.
I’ll see to what I need, hmm?”
“Do you think you need a woman who comes from the streets?”
she asked, her pretty face marred by a sneer that Ben doubted she was even aware of.
“A woman who probably has to beg for every pence she puts in her pocket?”
Ben closed his eyes as if he could see before him what his sister was describing.
It made his heart ache.
He didn’t want Fable to beg for money ever again.
It angered him that Prudence could show such callous disregard for others.
He opened his eyes and regarded his sister with an incredulous grimace.
“Was I not fighting to protect her as well as you when I almost lost my arm?”
“When you fought against the Jacobites?”
she asked, looking a little lost.
“Yes.
All your lives would have changed if a Stuart took the throne again.”
“Benjamin, you fought against the Jacobites for revenge,”
she pointed out with a short laugh.
“How many did you kill? Thousands? More? What does that have to do with someone like Miss Ramsey?”
He stared at her in disbelief then clenched his jaw.
“I didn’t kill enough.”
His words finally produced tears she couldn't hold back.
Instead of comforting her, he turned his back to her and faced two women, one young, one older.
He blocked their path and their vision from his sister while she composed herself.
“Your Grace,”
the older woman smiled behind a powdered face and fluttering fan.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again.
You remember my daughter, Lady Clara Bishop–”
Ben barely flicked a glance Lady Clara’s way when her mother began listing all her attributes as if she were a prized cow for sale.
Ben was sure neither Lady Clara nor her mother noted the clenching of his jaw, his bare shred of tolerance as he pretended to care about either of them.
“Lady Chelmsford!”
Prudence finally stepped around his broad shoulders, smiling.
“Of course my brother remembers your lovely daughter, Lady Clara.”
Ben didn’t care if Lady Clara’s father was the earl of Chelmsford or the king.
He made no movement to agree or disagree with his sister, though Lady Clara was smiling brightly.
He didn’t find her unattractive or unsuitable to be a wife.
Her hair was dark sable brown pinned into curls over her ears.
Her eyes were wide and filled with willingness.
Ben knew what was expected of him at a Marriage ball.
He was to meet the ladies, dance with those he liked, and by the end of the night choose one to wed.
If he chose no one…his thoughts wandered back to Miss Ramsey.
She knew that her leaving meant he couldn’t choose her.
He already knew he wouldn’t choose anyone else.
But he’d promised Prudence he would meet the hopefuls.
The first was Lady Clara, who didn’t seem to mind his aloof, curt treatment.
He thought if he had to dance with her, he’d throw himself on his sword first.
Next came the opposite in Lady Elizabeth Drake, who literally trembled like a terrified dog if he happened to glance in her direction–so he didn’t.
He barely held back his mournful sighs and low, threatening growls through conversations with Ladies Loretta Cornel and Margaret Somner.
The more time he spent with his sister’s idea of suitable wives, the more desperate he became to escape them and hurry to Miss Ramsey.
“I can speak six languages,”
boasted Lady Joan D’Artane.
“I can embroider the most detailed designs, and prepare thirty-two dishes.”
Ben looked over her shoulder at the open doors leading to the garden.
Prudence was out there with Sudbury, who had returned.
It was clear they were arguing.
“I’m also well versed in poetry and I can play several instruments,”
Lady Joan went on.
Ben exhaled.
“I understand you were the king’s personal guard.”
She paused in listing her attributes to mention his.
“A highly decorated captain in his army.”
Ben guzzled down the remainder of the wine in his cup and nodded, then looked around for the next lady on the list.
He caught Sudbury coming into the ballroom and storming back out through the main exit.
Prudence returned from the garden and looked around.
When she saw Lady Joan’s mother she smiled brightly as if she hadn’t just come from fighting with the man she cared for.
Ben turned away then ground his jaw when he saw Lady Isabel Talbert and her mother coming for him.
He wasn’t sure which of the two looked him over as if he was the last morsel of meat more, the mother or daughter.
Before they reached him, he turned and hurried out of the ballroom.
That was it! He’d had enough!
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he looked up hoping to see Miss Ramsey there at the top.
She wasn’t there.
She’d called it a game.
But it wasn’t.
This marriage ball made him think about what he needed to do.
Either marry or return to his duty and fight.
He didn’t want to marry anyone his sister…or his father chose. He didn’t want to marry Fable either and leave her a widow. He had to write to His Majesty soon.
He wouldn’t go to her, though he longed to see her.
It was better this way.
If he saw her, he likely wouldn’t be able to walk away.
He had to stop lying to himself.
He cared for her.
He didn’t know how or when it began, but he anticipated and remembered every moment spent with her.
And he had to put an end to it. Now. Tonight. He wouldn't send her away, but he wouldn’t let himself feel anything more than fondness for her. To do so was hurting her and would hurt her even more later. Even if she somehow defeated and replaced his anger and drive for revenge and could fill his days with happiness and peace, he would have to deny her love so that he didn’t deny his father’s wishes.
It broke his heart and as he turned away from the stairs, it made him angry with his father for the first time.
He didn’t care where Fable came from, who her family or what her status was.
She stirred him.
He couldn’t set his eyes on her without being stirred.
Deep within, deeper than even he could have imagined, she broke through layer after layer.
If he let her…but there was still enough of a defense to keep her at bay.
He stayed awake practicing his swordplay alone, until Sudbury finally joined him beneath the stars.
Ben’s arm was strong, his aim sure, when he swung his heavy blade at his friend.
Sudbury didn’t hold back either, but parried and jabbed with the grace of an elegant bird.
Ben had to block after almost every strike, but the speed and weight of Ben’s assault finally wore his opponent down.
Sudbury dropped to his knees and held up his arms.
Ben lowered his sword and bent over to catch his breath while his friend did the same.
“Do that before the king and he’ll snatch you right back up,”
Sudbury remarked earnestly.
“You’re ready.”
Ben thought he’d be happier to hear those words.
He was ready.
Three years of hell and he was finally ready.
His heart should be light.
It was finally time to stand before the king and prove his skill.
But he felt an unfamiliar pull.
“What is it?”
his friend asked.
“I thought you would be happier to hear that.”
“I’m happy, but–”
Sudbury waited.
“But? By any chance does it have to do with Miss Ramsey, with whom you spend all your time?”
“It can’t have to do with her, Simon,”
Ben told him quietly.
“If the king takes me back….it’s what I’ve waited for.”
“She waited for you,”
the earl informed him.
“When the ball was over, she waited but you didn’t go to her.”
“How do you know she waited?”
Ben asked him.
“Did you return to her room after your fight with my sister?”
“Yes.
I thought it would be the first place you went.”
Ben imagined her waiting for him.
He felt terrible but not going to her was the right thing to do.
“How…how was she when you left her?”
He didn’t want to know.
He shouldn’t want to know, but he seemed to have lost control of his mouth.
“Melancholy,”
Sudbury told him.
“I found it difficult to leave her.
Honestly, Colchester,”
he argued when Ben glared at him.
“She pulls at the heartstrings.”
“See that she doesn’t pull too hard on yours, Sudbury,”
Ben warned him, then muttered under his breath when his friend laughed.
“Brother,”
Sudbury grinned at him.
“Your father is gone.
I believe the war will be over soon.
Live how you wish to live.”