The Discerning Gentleman’s Guide

Chapter Twenty-One

It is the fashion nowadays for couples to marry for love. Whilst this may appeal to the romantic side of your character, it is not an advised course of action. Once you have chosen an eminently suitable woman, love will blossom in time...

H is fingers closed possessively around her hand and pressed it against the hard wall of his chest to prevent her from prodding. ‘I do not believe that you are prepared to throw away everything between us just like that, Amelia.’ His other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that his mouth was a few scant inches from hers. ‘You feel the pull between us, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with my title and everything to do with desire.’

She wanted to deny it, but her body was already calling her a liar. The hand that rested against his chest was splayed over his steady heartbeat, the other had already found its way to his lapel. His mouth descended onto hers savagely, but Amelia was powerless to resist kissing him back with equal force.

She wanted him. Pure and simple.

One last kiss goodbye was not too much to ask for, surely? And it would be goodbye. It had to be. Tears prickled her eyes, but she poured all of her tangled emotions into it. She greedily wound her arms around his neck when he imprisoned her against the battlements with his body. His lips gentled as he deepened the kiss and Amelia was powerless to do anything other than cling to him while her senses and every nerve ending came alive.

Each stroke of his tongue caused her womb to constrict, almost as if there was some secret hidden thread that linked the two halves of her body together that only he knew about, while her breasts felt suddenly heavy and ached for his touch. Unthinkingly, she arched against him and he responded by sliding his hands down to rest possessively on her bottom, drawing her hips intimately against his. She revelled in the insistent nudge of his hardness against her belly, pressed herself against it while her hands explored his chest beneath his snug waistcoat, felt the tension in the muscles of his abdomen and thrilled at how laboured his breathing was. The shallow, rapid rise and fall of his ribcage mirrored hers.

Amelia moaned when his warm palm closed over her breast, wishing that it was not encased in layers of clothing and laid bare to his fingers. Her wish was granted when he edged his hand gently beneath the neckline of her bodice and she groaned again when the pad of his thumb grazed her taut nipple, moaning against his lips in wanton encouragement. No matter what she had said, or how much she distrusted men like him, she still wanted him more than she ever had any man before. If only he was indeed just Ben... Then she would willingly succumb to him. Marry him. Whatever it took to just be with him.

‘I want you in my bed, Amelia.’ His voice came out strangled with desire. ‘Let us not fight this attraction we feel.’

Temptation warred with common sense. If she went to his bed, what then? In one swift motion, she tore her mouth from his and darted out of the cage of his arms. ‘This is just passion, Ben, and passion fades.’

‘It is more than just passion and you know it!’ He looked more handsome than she had ever seen him. His hair was delightfully tousled from her touch, all evidence of his formality and stuffiness gone; his eyes were burning with lust for her. The man. Who happened to be a duke.

‘It makes no difference what we feel, Ben. The barriers that stand between us are too great.’

His broad shoulders slumped in defeat and he hastily turned and rested his hands on the impregnable castle walls, staring out at the stars. ‘So it is hopeless, then?’

Amelia came behind him and rested her head on his shoulder, felt the strength in him, the warmth and the goodness one last time. ‘Of course it is hopeless. It always was. You are a wealthy and powerful duke and I am your aunt’s companion who has lived in a workhouse and begged for scraps in a soup kitchen.’

‘I never had you pegged as a coward, Amelia. At least I am prepared to try to find a way for us to be together.’

‘I am not a coward.’ Perhaps she was? Her feelings for Bennett Montague terrified her. ‘I am a realist. We come from two vastly different worlds. Soon I shall head back to Bath with Lady Worsted and you shall head back to Parliament, and by the time we visit again next year, all of these odd emotions will have faded.’ Another lie. Bennett Montague would always have a special place in her heart. She would not come next year, or any other. Lady Worsted would give her leave and she would spend those weeks in Seven Dials, where she belonged. It would be too painful to see him again, especially if he was married to one of his Potentials and happy.

‘I don’t need to be Prime Minister.’

Amelia sighed and stroked his back tenderly. ‘Of course you do. Being a politician is who you are and the electorate are fickle. I understand that too. The very last woman you should choose is one who has lived the life I have. I am a scandal just waiting to happen. The moment the press or the opposition found out about me, which they would eventually, my past would be dredged up and you would be judged as a result. I will not be held responsible for that.’

Nor did she want to suffer the backlash of his inevitable reaction to that, but she did not say it. He would dismiss her fears as ridiculous, although Amelia knew that if it came to it he would have no choice but to use his power to curtail her activities and try to mould her into the type of wife that society expected her to be. She had seen her father chip away at everything unique and rebellious about her mother, leaving her an empty shell with no real identity of her own aside from being an aristocrat’s wife. She did not want to resent Bennett for that. ‘I cannot stop campaigning for change or consorting with so-called Radicals because that is who I am also. So we will always be at odds with each other.’

He glanced up at the sky and she felt him inhale slowly. Acceptance. ‘It is apt that we should be here under the stars discussing this. If ever there were a pair of star-crossed lovers, it is surely us.’

‘In the grand scheme of things, none of this matters. We both have things that we must do, causes that drive us and beliefs that we both hold too strong to simply ignore. Anything else would be too great a compromise. You might not see it now, but you would come to resent me for damaging your political career and I would resent you for having the power to control me. In time, we will both realise that things are as they should be and this is all for the best.’ Even if that made them both miserable. A tiny piece of her heart died, the rest simply ached for all that could not be.

They stood in silence for several minutes, both staring out at the infinite blackness of the night sky, two small, insignificant specks in the universe. There really was nothing else to say. Eventually, she dropped her hand and stood back.

‘Goodnight, Your Grace.’

The fact that he let her go without another word somehow said it all.

* * *

Bennett sat holding a cup of tea he did not want, surrounded by a growing sea of people he definitely did not want to be with, and glared across the room at his mother. Once again, her definition of a few people over for afternoon tea was vastly different from his. At least seven laden carriages had arrived so far and, by the looks of things, several more were expected and it was not yet noon. Like her definition of ‘a few’, his mother’s idea of ‘afternoon tea’ was apparently also quite different to everyone else’s. These people were here for luncheon first, then afternoon tea followed by whatever ‘fun’ activity she was going to rope them all into, and Bennett had been effectively held hostage for the duration.

He now knew, thanks to Uncle George, who had also conveniently been kept in the dark, that his mother was doing all this to further his political ambitions. Apparently, she was worried that he was neglecting his supporters because he was always too busy to entertain; therefore, whilst he was here resting, and thus not busy, it would be the perfect opportunity to extend some hospitality and strengthen some alliances. It was the very last thing he wanted right now. In reality, all he wanted to do was gallop across the frozen fields hereabouts and lick his wounds in private. Heaven only knew what irritating sycophants and social climbers he would now have to socialise with. His mother’s grasp of who his most ardent supporters were, like her definitions of ‘few’ and ‘afternoon tea’, left a lot to be desired.

The Potentials were all there and, to his great irritation, so were their mothers and their powerful fathers. The five men all regarded him in accusation, no doubt all thoroughly fed up with the fact that he had still not made a decision and chosen their daughter to be his duchess. His head very well might sympathise, but his heart was aching at the thought. Not one of those young ladies held a candle to Amelia. They were not as intelligent, or as interesting, or as passionate or as irritating as the diminutive dark-haired temptress who sat quietly in the furthest corner of the room, doing her level best not to notice him.

He knew that she had been irritatingly right about their unfortunate situation, but knowing she was right certainly did not make him feel any better about it. He was still in two minds as to whether he should have acquiesced quite so easily. Perhaps there was still hope for them?

‘Stop mooning after the chit and talk to her,’ Uncle George hissed from behind his own teacup. ‘You know that you want to.’

Of course Bennett wanted to. He wanted to march over there, grab her hand and drag her outside. He wanted to kiss her until his head spun, make mad passionate love to her and force her to fight for them. He wanted to tell her that he did not care about the difference in their stations or that she consorted with potential Revolutionaries or that he might lose momentum in Parliament; none of that mattered because he only wanted to be with her. Which, of course, would mean political suicide. Decades of political manoeuvring, diplomacy and holding his tongue would have all been for naught. All his father’s hopes would be dashed and his legacy would be lost. And she was definitely right about his not being able to help the poor from the back benches. His presence in the government was now more important than ever if he was going to be the one to champion their cause.

‘I am not sure why you think that you have the right to give me romantic advice when you have never been married, Uncle.’ Uncle George blinked rapidly and Bennett instantly regretted being so curt. It was hardly his uncle’s fault that he was now imprisoned by towering, insurmountable, invisible brick walls. ‘I am sorry, Uncle. That was uncalled for.’

Uncle George smiled kindly in that way he always had when Bennett had made a hash of something and he had to rescue his nephew. ‘I might never have married, Bennett, but I know the pain of being in love with someone when the circumstances make it seem worse than hopeless.’

Now that was an interesting snippet Bennett had never heard before. He had not realised that his uncle had once been in love. Perhaps hearing the plight of another star-crossed lover might make him feel better. ‘Why was it hopeless?’

Uncle George’s eyes dropped to his hands and his expression became guarded while he considered what he should say. ‘The young lady in question was betrothed to another, better prospect than a second son. She had to do her duty for the sake of her family. But never mind that. It all turned out for the best.’ Something about the older man’s expression told Bennett that his uncle did not really believe that at all, which made him think about Amelia’s same assertion last night. In time, we will both realise that things are as they should be and this is all for the best. Perhaps she was wrong too.

‘You could have moved on and married someone else.’ As he must.

‘What? And make an innocent woman’s life a misery because my heart would always belong to another. That would not have been fair. Love is very powerful, Bennett. It shouldn’t be ignored.’

Why was he talking about love? Unless his uncle mistakenly thought that the lust and attraction Bennett felt for his aunt’s companion was something more than it was. ‘I am not in love with Miss Mansfield!’ The very notion was ridiculous. He had scarcely known the girl for a few weeks. Love was something that blossomed slowly, perhaps taking years to develop. It was born out of mutual goals and beliefs, shared experiences, familiarity—much as it had for his own parents. Theirs had been a quiet, comfortable emotion. There was nothing comfortable and quiet about the feelings he had for Amelia.

‘Do you think about her constantly?’

‘Well...yes, but...’

‘Does she drive you to the point of distraction?’

‘She would drive anyone to distraction, uncle. I hardly think that can be used as an effective gauge to measure it by...’

Uncle George held up his hand and held his gaze intently. ‘Would you do anything to keep her happy or safe, even if that meant sacrificing yourself to achieve it?’

‘Well, of course I would! If you recall, I did get punched in the face.’ And he had listened to her ramblings last night even though he had wanted to rail against her for being so pessimistic. ‘But I would have done the same for anyone in a similar situation. I am fond of Miss Mansfield, I will grant you that, but it is not love. Her background is wholly unsuitable...’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, boy! That is your father speaking and a colder fish never walked on this earth. He was my brother and I loved him, but he was not an easy man to like. He made your poor mother miserable and I will not allow his petty prejudices to cloud your judgement and force you into a life of misery too!’

The force behind his uncle’s words took him aback. In all of his thirty years, Bennett had never heard his uncle criticise his father once. Cold fish? His father had been reserved, yes, but he had cared enough about Bennett to ensure that he was prepared to take on the life of great responsibility ahead of him. Petty prejudices? Was Uncle George referring to his father’s advice about his future bride? He knew that his uncle found the Potentials a little exasperating, but surely he could understand why such a woman was necessary to be the wife of a member of His Majesty’s cabinet. And as for his claim that his father had made his mother miserable— Well, frankly that was preposterous! His parents had had the perfect marriage. His father had often said so. If there had not been so many people in the room, Bennett would have shouted his outrage.

‘He did not make my mother miserable!’ His heated whisper earned him a few curious stares from those hovering closest to where they sat, so he forced himself to calm down. Now was definitely not the time or the place for a volcanic eruption of all the warring, turbulent jumble of emotions that had been troubling him of late.

Uncle George set his jaw stubbornly. ‘Of course he did. All he cared about was his own blasted political ambitions. He was always too busy for anything else. Why do you think that it was me who taught you to ride and to shoot? I stepped into the breach when he abandoned you to follow his own path—a path, I hasten to add, that he has forced you down as well. I hate the way he controls your life from the grave. Do you remember your father’s presence here for the duration of all of those summers and Christmases? Don’t you ever wonder why you are an only child, Bennett? Your self-important father was far too interested in his own position in the government that he neglected your mother for the entirety of their marriage.’

Mortally offended, Bennett stood and promptly took himself to another corner of the room without another word. If he stayed next to his uncle, he would only disgrace himself in public. As soon as the moment was right, he would speak to his mother in private so that he could satisfy himself that his uncle was lying. Except, now that he came to think upon it, there might well be some weight to Uncle George’s impassioned assertions.

His father had rarely come to Aveley Castle. Nor had he taught him how to ride or shoot or swim. He had certainly never slid down a banister with his father—that would have given the man an apoplexy of epic proportions—or capsized a boat or waltzed around the ballroom with him because his big feet had such trouble with the steps. Had there ever been a momentous occasion in his life when his uncle George had not been present? His father, certainly, had missed a great deal, but Uncle George had been by his and his mother’s side for the lot.

Another uncomfortable thought suddenly occurred to him as he watched his uncle march across the room to his mother. He saw her put her arm affectionately on his and smile in understanding as the old man undoubtedly vented his frustration about Bennett. Uncle George had always been there for her too. Every step of the way. In all but name, they were like a married couple who adored each other. Surely he had not been so preoccupied with his own career not to have seen something like that? They all lived under the same roof after all... Damn it all to hell, they all lived under the same roof. Like a family! Like his blasted ceiling mural, could he have been so determined to see things one way, when in fact there was an altogether different picture when viewed from another perspective? Was this yet another thing he had got entirely wrong?

Bennett wandered to the table and accepted another cup of tea from a servant and tried to get a better view of his mother and his uncle to see if his ridiculous, implausible new suspicion actually carried any weight. Was his uncle right? Was his father controlling him from the grave?

He had no time to ponder that. Lady Cecily was already edging towards him with a purposeful gleam in her eye, closely followed by both her mother and her father. A quick glance at the mantel clock told him that it was only just past noon and he had told Lovett to extricate him from his mother’s tea party at two. Now he was stuck here for another couple of hours, in a foul temper and more confused than he had ever been in his life about almost everything.

‘Your Grace! How wonderful it was to receive your invitation.’ Lady Cecily was practically simpering and batting her eyelashes in a way that he could only assume she thought was beguiling. As if he wanted an obedient marionette who simply batted her eyelashes at him! Or parroted his book or followed every one of its edicts! She slid her arm through his and offered him a demure and adoring smile. Realising that he was completely doomed with no hope of redemption, Bennett was left with little choice other than to paste a polite smile on his face and suffer her unwanted attentions manfully.

Amelia sat with Lady Worsted and pretended that she was not boiling with jealousy at the sight of the Duke chatting happily with Lady Cecily as though he did not have a care in the world. After all that had been said yesterday evening, she could not help selfishly feeling put out by his rapid return to normal. He might have had the decency to take a little more time in getting over her. The conniving Cecily was gripping onto Ben’s arm as if he were a trophy and casting gloating glances at her rivals—including Amelia.

Sir George wandered over looking peeved and promptly folded his arms across his chest the moment he sat down next to them. ‘I really have no idea what possessed Octavia to invite so many people when none of us are in the mood to have them here. Did she tell you what she had in mind?’

Lady Worsted shook her head mournfully. ‘All I knew about were the Potentials. I believe it was her intention to help Bennett to choose one of them in a less formal setting. Surely there cannot be any more carriages? We must be up to twenty guests already.’

The three of them all turned to watch the Dowager greeting another couple at the door and Sir George rolled his eyes. ‘And they keep on coming! At this rate, we will soon run out of chairs.’

The Dowager sailed towards them, smiling like the perfect hostess with the latest arrivals in tow. ‘Augusta, George—you remember the Sandfords, don’t you? I shall leave them in your capable hands while I go to greet the Viscount and Viscountess of Bray. Lovett has just informed me that their carriage is arriving.’

Amelia froze and then experienced a moment of sheer, unadulterated panic. One look told her Lady Worsted had also just realised that a catastrophe of huge proportions was pending.

‘Did you know about this?’ Amelia’s throat began to tighten as she gripped Lady Worsted’s hand in panic.

‘Of course I didn’t!’

Her employer was on the cusp of flapping, which would be no use to either of them, so Amelia stood sharply and tried not to shout. ‘I cannot be seen here!’ If she was fast, she could escape and avoid them. She would have to spend the entire afternoon locked inside her bedchamber, but at least she would avoid causing a scandal.

Amelia stumbled blindly to the door and in her haste to flee she collided with a footman carrying a loaded tray. Cups and cutlery clattered noisily to the floor, drawing everyone’s attention. ‘I am so sorry!’ she said to the footman as she simultaneously picked up her skirts and hurried towards the door to freedom.

‘Amelia—wait!’

Bennett’s voice called from behind her, but still she did not stop. It was better to be horrifically rude to a duke in front of a room full of guests than to publicly embarrass him with the scandal that was poised to happen. Perhaps later she would explain. If she absolutely had to. Or she could just run towards the woodland and keep on running. That might be preferable.

‘Wait!’ His voice was insistent as he stayed her arm and turned her towards him, his cobalt eyes filled with concern. ‘What has happened?’

Frustrated, angry tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. She knew that he deserved the truth, but there was no time, so she lied. ‘I am not feeling very well. I need to go and lie down.’

It was obvious that he did not believe her because he refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. ‘Something has upset you. Please tell me what is wrong.’

‘Let me go, Ben, I beg you. I will explain everything later, but please let me go.’ The bothersome tears would not be held back any longer and began to trickle down her cheeks. If that was not mortifying enough, the people nearest the door were watching them with barely disguised interest, which meant she had already caused a scene, despite her father’s imminent arrival.

Ignoring the questioning stares, his hand slid down her arm and clasped her hand. With his other hand, he used his thumb to gently wipe the tears from her cheek tenderly. ‘Not until I know what is wrong. I hate seeing you like this.’

His sympathy was almost her undoing except, behind those gathered at the door, Amelia could already see the Dowager looking for her son. Next to her was Viscount Venomous, smiling nauseatingly at his hostess and no doubt congratulating himself on gaining an invitation to visit such a powerful duke.

As the crowd parted to allow them to pass, Amelia snatched her hand away and considered her options. The grand, echoing hallway offered few hiding places. The odd ancient suit of armour or the impressive waist-high Grecian urns would not suffice for long. Her inadvertent charade was about to unravel like knitting and she had no earthly idea how to stop it. In desperation, she camouflaged herself behind the biggest thing in the room.

Bennett.

‘Oh, there you are, Bennett!’ His mother was striding purposefully towards him, completely oblivious to the fact that Amelia was upset and huddled behind him. Under the circumstances, he was glad that she was hidden. At least it would give her a few moments to compose herself before she had to make a reappearance. He already knew enough about her to understand that she would hate to be seen in such an exposed and weakened state by anyone. ‘I believe that you must know Viscount Bray. He is one of your greatest supporters in the House.’

Reluctantly, Bennett held out his hand to shake the other man’s, doing his best to maintain Amelia’s privacy. He had met Bray before and had never particularly warmed to the man. ‘Yes, of course. Bray, how are you?’

‘Honoured to be favoured with an invitation, Your Grace. May I present my wife?’

Bennett had to turn slightly to take the lady’s proffered hand and watched his mother’s eyes dart curiously behind him. Automatically, she twisted to see who he was concealing and he fervently hoped that Amelia had rediscovered her composure.

‘Oh, Amelia—I did not notice you there. Allow me to introduce you to our guests as well.’

He felt her step out from behind him, saw her stiffen her delicate spine and set her small shoulders proudly, then watched in fascination as the Viscount’s face became florid at the sight of her.

‘What the hell is she doing here?’ The man was practically pulsating with rage.

Amelia appeared completely unmoved by Bray’s peculiar reaction. She stared at him for several moments imperiously, then tilted her lovely head to one side before she spoke.

‘Hello, Father. Abandoned any wives lately?’