Matchmaking the Marquess (The League of Eligible Bachelors #3)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Ben pulled on the oar, turning the little skiff so he could better see Mia and Cort in their boat. He did not know how Cort managed to secure Mia for every activity. It was almost as if he watched for Ben and then pounced just before Ben arrived. It was maddening. And also the reason he was now rowing Miss Cartwright about the lake.

He didn’t dislike Miss Cartwright. Indeed, she was significantly better than Lady Charlotte. She was pleasant enough company. Her only real disadvantage was…she wasn’t Mia.

With every day and activity that passed without them being paired, Ben grew more cantankerous but also more eager to see her. And not just see her but talk to her. Laugh with her. Be with her.

He’d never known a time when he missed her so much—even on his yearly trips to London for Parliament. And while being at the same house party? How was that even possible? Was it because they were theoretically together every day? And yet they felt further apart than ever before.

“I thought it might be too cold for rowing,” Miss Cartwright said.

Ben nodded, only paying her half his attention. “Yes, it has been cold.”

“But even without the sun shining, it’s warmer than it was yesterday; don’t you agree?”

“Indeed,” Ben said, his gaze trained on Cort and Mia. Mia laughed at something Cort said. Ben scowled.

“Your friend seems quite taken with Amelia,” Miss Cartwright raised her voice.

Ben flicked his gaze to her. “Oh?”

Miss Cartwright nodded. “And I’m not the only one to notice. I heard her cousin, Mr. Lamb, and Mr. Lymington discussing it. Many assume they will announce their engagement before the farewell ball.”

Ben’s oar slammed against the surface of the pond, sending a spray of water in the air. “Is that so?” He choked out past the lump tightening his throat. “What is your opinion?” Miss Cartwright knew Mia better than anyone there, besides himself. Although, for the life of him, he could not interpret what was happening between Cort and her.

“I don’t know. At times, she seems taken enough with him. But other times, she is… Amelia.” She twitched her lips to the side. “I’m unsure if he is the man that will change her mind about marriage.” Miss Cartwright studied him closely. She looked as if she knew something but was holding back. What did she know that Ben did not?

“I cannot see it happening.” He growled more forcefully than he intended as his eyes flicked to Miss Cartwright and he tempered his tone. “He may offer for her. But I agree with you. He is not the man to change her mind.”

Miss Cartwright shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the skiff Ben kept within sight. “Perhaps that was her feelings before. But I can’t say they are still her feelings. They seem to get along well enough.” She propped her elbow on her knee and dropped her chin onto her palm. “It may just have taken the right man to change her mind.”

Ben swallowed, sending up a silent plea heavenward that Cort was not the right man. How could he be? He was Cort, blast it all. Not that Ben knew who the right man was. He only knew it couldn’t possibly be Cort. Did Cort know her eyes darkened when she was angry? Did he know she preferred the country to London or that she preferred a quiet evening in the library to the ballroom? Did he know that on the rare occasion when she belly laughed, she would snort? Or did he know that she was the most caring person of Ben’s acquaintance?

He pushed out a grunt. Now that he thought on it, he could not imagine her with any of the gents. None of the men at the house party knew Mia like he did. None of them were worthy of her affections.

“Everyone is just talking tales. It won’t happen,” he stated firmly. He did not know who he was trying to convince more, Miss Cartwright or himself.

The boat jerked and Ben looked up to see they had collided with Cort and Mia.

“Gads, man. Watch where you’re rowing.” Cort frowned at Ben.

“It’s you who ran into us. If you’d not steered your boat into our path, we should not have bumped into you.” Ben’s nostrils flared.

“Gentlemen, there is no need to arg—” Mia called out.

“You’re saying I’m the one at fault? You hit us broadside. You’re the one who steered into us,” Cort grumbled, but there was a merriment in his gaze that only added fuel to the fire burning inside Ben. He thought this all a joke.

Ben rolled his eyes. “If you cannot accept the blame, then I will take it. I can be the bigger man.”

In a quick fluid motion, Cort swung the oar forward, a spray of water covering the whole boat. Miss Cartwright screamed and lifted her arms over her head, unsuccessfully blocking the water.

“What the devil?” Ben’s eyes blazed. “How dare you!” He scooped his oar into the water, sending a bigger spray into Cort’s boat.

“Ben,” Mia screeched. But her cries died on her lips as water soaked her. Oars from both boats splashed fast and furious as both men tried to drench the other.

“Stop it, this instant,” Mia screamed and stood up to get the men’s attention. But neither was paying her any mind. Indeed, Cort lifted his oar to swing it at Ben but hit Mia instead.

Her arms flailed wildly, and Cort lunged to reach her, but he was too late. She tumbled backward into the pond, letting out a horrifying scream.

Ben swore and jumped in after her. “I’m coming, Mia.”

She kicked her feet and swam toward the shore.

Ben caught up to her and reached out for her.

She pushed his hand away. “I don’t need your help.” She kicked hard and grabbed hold of the grass growing along the bank. Pulling herself up, she climbed awkwardly out of the water on her hands and knees, her gown and pelisse dripped and clung to her form.

“This gown is ruined,” she looked down the front of her.

Ben’s eyes widened slightly as he took in each curve of her body. He did not know what he expected to see, but it was not that. He knew he should look away. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. But his eyes completely ignored his brain’s bidding, taking in the sight of her from head to toe.

Mia huffed, and Ben jerked his gaze upward. He moved toward the bank and climbed out. “You must be freezing. Let’s get you back to the house.”

She glared at him. “I will get myself to the house. Why do you not figure out how to get Franny back to shore?”

Ben glanced over his shoulder. Cort had brought the skiffs even with each other and held them together as Miss Cartwright scrambled into his boat. “Cort has it handled. Let me help you.” He reached out and cupped her elbow.

She yanked it from his grip. “You’ve done enough already.” She turned and stormed away. She moved along the path that led to Hedlund Hall.

“Berwick, what happened? Is Mia hurt?” Lord Minton called from his boat near the shore.

“I don’t believe she’s hurt.” Ben sighed. “Just angry.”

Her father gave a half grin. “Then everything is as it should be.”

“I would not go that far, my lord. But thank the heavens there was no injury.” Ben shot a glare at Cort, who was paying him no heed.

He looked down at his dripping clothes. Mia was not the only one who needed to change clothes. And from the looks of Miss Cartwright and Cort, they would need fresh linens also.

Ben waited at the shore. The least he could do was help Miss Cartwright from the boat. And he should wait and drive back to Tweed with Cort. Even if it was his friend’s fault that they all needed fresh clothing.

Ben folded his arms as he waited for Cort to row back. His greatcoat felt heavy on his shoulders. It seemed appropriate for his mood. Ben shrugged it off and draped it over his arms. A shiver ran down his spine. “Could you row a little faster before we all catch our death of a cold?”

Cort scowled. “We will be there in a moment.”

With the breeze blowing against his back, it felt much longer than a moment before Cort pulled the skiff alongside the bank.

Ben walked over and held the boat steady as Miss Cartwright stepped out. “Thank you, my lord.” She sounded less than thankful to Cort—just as she should. However, the look she cast at Ben was no kinder. Was she painting him with the same brush as Cort? She turned and hurried to catch up with Mia.

Ben leaned forward and offered a hand to Cort. He eyed it suspiciously.

“Just take it. I’m freezing and wish to change into something dry and warm.”

Cort shrugged and grasped hold of Ben’s hand. “Is it faster to walk?”

Ben nodded. “Yes. We can cut through the fields and be at Tweed before the horses are hitched.” Its quickness was only one of the reasons he chose that path.

Cort nodded. “Very well. Let’s be on our way.” He glanced over at Ben. “You look cold. Would you like my coat? It is not completely dry, but I’m certain it’s not as wet as yours.”

Ben shook his head. “No. Just walk faster.”

They seemed content to remain quiet for the rest of the walk. When they reached Tweed, both men moved wordlessly to their own chambers.

Ben flung open his chamber door and slammed it shut behind him. “Reynolds, are you in here?”

His valet appeared in the doorway of the dressing room. “Yes, sir.” His eyes widened when he saw Ben. “What happened, my lord?” He glanced at the window. “Is it raining?”

Ben shook his head. “I jumped in the pond at Hedlund.”

“That seems ill-advised, sir,” Reynolds pulled at Ben’s wet tailcoat.

“Lady Amelia fell in. I was trying to save her,” Ben grumbled.

“Tried? Were you unsuccessful?” Reynolds looked concerned as he pulled at Ben’s sleeves. “If I recall correctly, Lady Amelia is a very proficient swimmer. Or she was as a child. Has that changed?”

“Yes, she was—is. But she fell in unexpectedly. I worried she would take in water before she remembered how to swim. But the chit would not accept my help. You know Lady Amelia. She is the most stubborn creature on earth.”

Reynolds grinned but said nothing as he worked the wet clothing off. “I do not have first-hand knowledge of that fact, but I will take your word for it.” He looked around the room, looking for a place to deposit the dripping clothes. “Shall I ring for hot water and a tub, sir?”

Ben shook his head. “No. I will make do with dry clothing. A brisk walk back to Hedlund should warm me plenty.”

“You walked?”

“It was faster than having the carriage prepared. But I can hardly leave the carriage there or take another.” He sighed. “Besides, I could use the time to think.”

“Yes, I’m certain you could.” Reynolds nodded.

“And what do you mean by that?” Ben grumbled. What was wrong with everyone? Reynolds’ usually knew his place. But Cort was not acting as he normally did either. And neither was Mia. Was everyone but him out of their senses?

“Never you mind, my lord.” He gathered the dripping clothes into his arms and dropped them in a heap by the fire. “I will return shortly with fresh clothing.” He hurried into the dressing room. “Do you desire any specific coats?” He called.

“You decide. I have no preference.” Ben ran a hand through his wet hair. It felt sandy and dirty. Perhaps he should have taken a bath. But his hair was the least of his worries. He needed to return and apologize to both Mia and Miss Cartwright.

Reynolds returned and helped Ben dress. He felt a fair bit better, but his skin still felt cold to the touch. He shook his head. From the temperature of that water, he would never have guessed it was only September. Giving himself one last look in the mirror, he dipped his head to his valet. “Thank you, Reynolds. I’ll return later this afternoon to dress for dinner.”

“Very good, my lord,” Reynolds gathered the wet clothes and hung them about in front of the fire. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Cort stuck his head into the library and released a breath when he found it empty. He’d not taken the time to bathe after his unfortunate water scuffle with Ben. He’d wished to hurry back to Hedlund so he could apologize to both the ladies. Now that he’d done that, he wished to stay out of sight for a time. Ben looked very near to landing him a facer. It seemed wise to give him a wide berth.

He closed the door behind him, desiring some solitude.

He did not know what had possessed him to splash Ben. But once it had started, it quickly got out of hand. And the women had been the unwitting bystanders.

Cort rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. This wasn’t him. While he was not stoic and grumpy like Rags, he was a gentleman in every sense of the word. He was not the type of person to drench a poor woman over a silly disagreement.

“Are you to throw in the towel yet?” The low growl of Rags’ voice furrowed Cort’s brow.

Cort could hear Rags, but he couldn’t see him. He took a few steps and found his friend lying on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You sighed.”

Cort grinned. “I never realized you were a sigh expert, Rags.”

“You’re the only one with reason to sigh that heavily.” He cracked an eye open. “Except for Ben. But he sighs deeper than you.”

“I never knew you study us so closely,” Cort rounded the couch. “Should I be flattered to have garnered such attention from the Duke of Larmont?”

“You’re an idiot, Cort.”

Cort lifted a brow and a shoulder. “You may not be wrong about that.”

Rags dropped his arm and sat up, shifting his legs off the couch. “Regretting your decision, are you?”

Cort dropped onto the opposite side of the couch and laid his head back, staring at the plasterwork on the ceiling. “No?” It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“Such decisiveness,” Rags laced his fingers together behind his head. “That’s not your usual position. If you still believe what you are doing is for the best, then what’s the problem?”

“It’s not going as I planned.” Cort looked at him with a frown. “Did you not see the pond incident?” He ran a hand through his hair. “But it’s more than that.”

“Why? Because you’re constantly at odds with your best friend and on the verge of losing him for good? Or perhaps you’re worried that Lady Amelia might like you and want you to propose? And then what? Are you prepared to ruin her for an experiment?”

Cort bristled slightly. “It’s not an experiment,” he defended lamely. “I’m not worried that she likes me. Indeed, I believe the opposite is more likely. I can see her irritation growing each time I ask to partner with her.” He silently traced the vine creeping along the ceiling with his gaze. “But I’m not deaf to the whisperings. People are expecting an engagement before long. Whether she likes me or not, it could still damage her reputation.”

“Which will be nothing if Ben loves her, as you suspect. He will be the one to propose.” Rags eyed him. “Are you doubting your theory?”

Cort shook his head. “No. If anything, I’m even more convinced than I was before. Have you not seen the daggers he glares at me? He is in love with her. But I don’t believe he realizes it.”

Rags’ head slowly nodded. “And that bothers you.”

Cort frowned. When had Rags become the thoughtful sounding board? It almost unnerved Cort more than the whole Ben and Lady Amelia situation. “Yes, it bothers me that he doesn’t see it. How can he not? We all see it.” He stared pointedly at Rags, challenging him to refute it.

Rags shrugged irritatedly.

“You see? Even you see it. So why doesn’t Ben?”

“Because he’s in the middle of it,” Reginald said from the doorway. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “As one who has been there, I believe I understand it better than the two of you, who’ve only ever loved a good brandy.”

“It’s the only worthwhile thing to love,” Rags smirked.

“What does being in the middle of it matter?” Cort asked.

“It may not be that he doesn’t recognize it as much as he is denying it.” Reginald settled into the seat across from them.

“That makes no sense,” Rags assumed his normal, condescending look.

“Lady Amelia and Ben are in a similar situation as Sarah and I were. They’ve known each other nearly their whole lives. I’m certain he’s having difficulty thinking of her as anything more than a dearest friend.” Reginald stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “There are surely a thousand different voices in his head telling him that things should not change, that his feelings for her will ruin what they have.”

“Is this plan a lost cause?” Not for the first time, Cort questioned the prudence.

Reginald shook his head. “I don’t think it is. Ben needs to see that there is someone else vying for her. It will force him to accept his new feelings. Or possibly lose her. Then Ben’s ego will take care of the rest.”

Rags scoffed. “Lud, Reg, you’re sounding like your wife.”

Reginald grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. My wife is very clever.” He looked at Cort. “Hold the course. I don’t think it will take much longer.”

Cort dropped his gaze. “But people are talking. I’m afraid this will all come to naught, and her reputation will be in tatters. And it will be all my doing and none of hers.” Cort frowned and raked his hand across the back of his neck.

“Ben will not allow that to happen. Trust me.”

Cort sighed. “That’s becoming harder to do.”

Rags shrugged. “As much as I hate to be a part of this scheme, I believe Reg is correct. If you stop now, Ben may not accept his feelings and Lady Amelia’s reputation will be damaged. Perhaps not beyond repair but more than it should.” He sighed. “You must stay the course.”

“People will stop anticipating an engagement if Lady Amelia does not seem taken with you,” Reginald said.

“But will that not deter Ben, as well?” Rags asked. For once he seemed genuinely confused.

Reginald shrugged. “Mind your step. It is a slender footpath that separates the two.”

“But step I shall,” Cort squared his shoulders. “It seems my only option is to make myself significantly less charming to Lady Amelia, while still making Ben think she is interested in me.”

Reginald grinned widely. “Oh, that is the only option?”

Cort shrugged. “The only one that is left. I will simply have to make myself so objectionable—when Ben is not watching, of course—as to make it impossible for her to fall in love with me. She’ll have no choice but to make her feelings known to everyone, thus stopping the rumors.”

“Will she not also tell Ben?” Rags looked on with a bland expression.

“We’ll just have to keep them apart. I’ve done well enough with it so far,” Cort grinned. “That is not the difficult part.” His brow creased, and he tsked. “But making myself less charming? It’ll be a blasted difficult task, to be sure.”

“Are you to be less charming than when you knocked her into the pond? Or perhaps when you tried to teach her to shoot the pistols— which she clearly had already learned.” Reginald steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Perhaps it will not be as difficult a task as you imagine.”

The corner of Cort’s mouth quirked. “Oh, I promise you I can be far more annoying.”

Rags laid back on the couch and put his arm over his eyes. “And I promise you, that will take none of us by surprise.”