Chapter Four
Major Vance was not at the Foreign Office the next morning, and that worried Benedict.
The man was as regular as the morning sun except after a visit with his mother.
On those days, the major showed up with a scowl and Benedict’s affairs would be in disarray for the rest of the day.
Fortunately, Gabriel rarely visited his mother.
Today, however, the major showed up an hour late with a scowl that threatened to permanently distort his face.
“Didn’t the sausages help?” he asked by way of greeting. That had been Benedict’s suggestion on the best way to put Madame Sabate into a good mood. It usually worked.
“It did,” the man growled. “But I didn’t have enough to bring you some. I need you in a talkative mood.” He stalked into the office with a stack of completed correspondence and dropped it neatly on Benedict’s desk.
Major Vance might be in a foul mood, but that never prevented him from finishing his allotted tasks.
Benedict barely glanced at the stack of papers. He’d long since learned to trust the man’s work. He took another long look at Gabriel’s face, and then said, “Please shut the door and sit down.”
The major nodded and then did as he was bid.
It was the action of a subordinate, but the expression on his face made Benedict feel once again like a raw recruit.
Though his title had given him the higher rank, the major far exceeded him in experience and on-the-ground wiliness.
That was less useful here in London than it had been in Spain, but it was valuable, nonetheless.
And besides, Benedict would never ignore the major no matter their ranks, occupation, or anything else.
They were closer than brothers, had saved each other’s lives, and relied on one other as critical pieces of a well-oiled machine.
And with the door shut, Gabriel might relax enough to share whatever was bothering him. So Benedict leaned back and smiled.
“Tell me,” he said.
The major didn’t hesitate, but he took his own sweet time coming to the point. “Three weeks ago, you told me you needed a wife.”
“I did. I do.” His older brother had died two years ago, making Benedict the sole heir to an earldom.
His father was in precarious health, and his own was always suspect.
It wasn’t that he had a delicate constitution per se, only that he was finicky about his food.
That had stood him in good stead against the odd poisoning since he rarely ate a hearty meal, but he sometimes wondered if he would have a more formidable physique if only he ate as other men did.
In any event, he needed a wife and a son as soon as possible.
Gabriel nodded. “Three weeks ago, I compiled a list of eligible women who would serve you well in a diplomatic career, would likely give you strong heirs, and would seamlessly join her life to yours.”
“I have it,” Benedict said, pointing to a nearby stack of papers. In it was the major’s list of eligible young ladies, complete with accompanying assets, virtues, and potential problems. The man had been impressively thorough.
“Miss Janelle Caddick was not on that list.”
Benedict cocked a brow. The major hadn’t asked a question, though he’d implied a dozen. Unfortunately for him, Benedict was not in a forthcoming mood.
Gabriel broke first. “Damn it, Benny, why her?”
“Why wasn’t she on your list?” he countered.
“Because she’s the nobody daughter of a baron without any useful connections. Why would she be on the list?”
“Because I like her.” His response seemed to startle Gabriel, and no wonder. Benedict wasn’t known for liking anything female. The business of nations centered around men, and he had no interest in being distracted from that.
“How did you even meet her?”
“Lord Nathaniel recommended her. He’s much more into the social whirl than you are.”
“A donkey is more in the social whirl than I am,” the man grumbled.
“Which, incidentally, is part of the problem.”
The major’s expression turned thunderous. “What?”
Benedict ignored the warning. “You were brilliant in Spain. You took me from a raw recruit to the man I am now. You saved my life countless times, and I would not go to war without you by my side.”
The major took the compliment with a steady expression. He was not a man to preen with praise nor crumple with criticism, but his head tilted as he tried to guess where Benedict was going.
Benedict sighed. “Gabriel, what do you want?”
“I don’t understand.”
Of course he didn’t. “I wouldn’t have survived Spain without you. You’re the best aide-de-camp anywhere. But I’m in the Foreign Office now. I’m a diplomat, and you’re not predisposed to playing the pretty with royalty or petty tyrants.”
The man stiffened until Benedict feared he’d snap his spine. “Do you wish to end my service with you?”
“Good God, no!” Benedict sighed then abruptly pulled out a whiskey flask from his desk drawer.
He offered some to Gabriel, but as expected, the man refused.
He was not one to drink before noon. Benedict, on the other hand, felt the need.
“If Anthony hadn’t died, we’d be having a very different discussion.
But he did, so I’m out of the line of fire and into the diplomatic corps. ”
“You’re much better suited to diplomacy,” the major said.
Yes, he was. But the major was not. “Do you want to go back to the front lines?”
Gabriel thought about that for a moment, but in the end, he shook his head. “Not unless you do.”
An excellent answer. The major was still young, but he’d received enough wounds already. He didn’t need to risk more.
“Do you want a wife? A family?”
There was a flash of hunger in the man’s eyes. A need that burned hot enough that he couldn’t suppress the desire. But then it was quickly shut down. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s a damned lie,” Benedict muttered. “And you know it.”
He pushed the whiskey forward, and this time Gabriel did take a long pull. But then he set it down and his gaze never left the flask. “Even if I found a woman willing to marry a bastard—”
“There are many, I assure you.”
“My children will still carry the taint.”
True enough, but many bastards managed highly respectable lives. The major was a perfect example of that. “That can be overcome.”
“My mother can’t be. I’m a whoreson and she’ll try to get her claws in them, too.”
Benedict frowned. “What happened with her last night?”
Gabriel shrugged. “The usual. She wants me to repair the Rose Garden. The place needs a new roof and more. She wants…” He sighed as he lifted up his palms in defeat.
“Worship.”
“Yes.”
“Control over you.”
“Over everything, but me especially.” He shrugged. “I am not the child I once was, and she is determined to return me to infancy where I am dependent upon her whims.”
Growing up as the son of a famous courtesan had marked the man.
He could have become an immoral, self-indulgent hanger-on.
Instead, he’d entered the military and become zealous in his moral core.
He had some flexibility—no one could survive a war zone without it.
But in his own actions, Gabriel was excruciatingly correct.
It would become tiresome if Benedict didn’t need the reminders while treading murky diplomatic waters.
“Does she hate you?”
“I don’t know. She will be quiet for a time and then strike. I think she wants to break me.”
“But why? You are her son.”
“Any man who leaves her control must be forever despised. Even her own son.”
Benedict shuddered. His own parents were prickly, set in their ways, and currently enfeebled.
He catered to their whims only when it aligned with his own.
He did not envy his friend a mother of influence who could damn his social standing merely by acting infamous.
In London especially, Gabriel would always be Madame Sabate’s son.
“You need to get married,” he pressed. “It would give you an extra layer of respectability and it’s a necessity in the diplomatic corps. Isn’t there someone who interests you?”
The man sighed as if this were an old argument. This was, in fact, the first time they’d discussed it openly.
“I follow England’s banner and you,” Gabriel said. “I need nothing more.”
“Every man needs more.” Benedict capped the flask as he looked at his closest friend. “My banner is in diplomacy, in fighting Napoleon, in establishing a lasting peace once the Corsican is defeated.” Something he hoped would happen any day now.
“I can help with that.”
“You can. You are. But…” How could he phrase this delicately?
“You want a respectable aide-de-camp. One who is not a bastard.”
Benedict put the flask away. “I don’t care about your birth. Indeed, sometimes it’s helpful when you get information from your mother, but I think you need more.”
“I do not.”
He ignored the response. “I think you need a new headwind, so to speak. You need to make the way smooth for someone who does not fritter away his time in ballrooms and palaces.” Benedict did a great deal more than fritter away his time, but the social whirl was necessary in the diplomatic corps.
And that was not the major’s forte. “I don’t want to lose you, but I think you would be happier in some other capacity.
Possibly with another benefactor.” One who could give Gabe a noble purpose that did not involve prancing around in ballrooms.
“I can be useful there!” There was a note of panic in the major’s voice. A fear that echoed inside Benedict as well. He could not function half so well without Gabriel.
“You are immeasurably useful to me,” he said, meaning every word.
“Then let us be done with this ridiculous conversation and focus on your ridiculousness.” Gabriel leaned forward, pinning Benedict with a hard stare. “Why Miss Caddick?”
“Why not Miss Caddick?” He smiled. “I like her independence.” And he absolutely needed a wife who could fill her own time without bothering him.
“Because we know nothing about her, and she is lying about something!” The major set his hands on Benedict’s desk. “I saw her coming out of the Rose Garden. I am sure of it.”
Benedict pursed his lips. He knew much more about Miss Caddick than Gabriel did. But that didn’t mean he knew everything. “What was she doing there?”
“Most likely, she is a spoiled woman who likes to watch. The Rose Garden caters to all kinds, and you do not want a woman like that.”
True. Such a wife could be disastrous. But Lord Nathaniel hadn’t suggested anything like that. “Are you sure?”
“Of course not! You surprised me yesterday. I’ve done none of the research necessary.”
“You’ve been too busy for something like this.” He’d put Lord Nathaniel on the task because it involved moving through the ton so quietly that most people forgot he was there. That was Nate’s strength, not Gabriel’s.
“You cannot marry her until we know for sure.”
“Very well,” he said, his mind thinking through the possibilities.
From what he understood, “watching” was the last thing on Miss Caddick’s mind.
But it never hurt to have a woman thoroughly vetted.
She was going to be the mother of his children and a future countess.
“Go ahead then. Find out everything you can about her. If she has no depravities, know that I will marry her. She is my choice.”
Gabrial sighed. “But why? There are so many others—”
“Why are you so against her?”
The man frowned, clearly unsure of the reason himself. “There is something about her…” he said. “It doesn’t sit right.”
“Find out what it is,” Benedict ordered. “Or make her fit because you will be the one to manage the details of her life.”
Gabriel gaped at him. “You are joking.”
“In Spain, you were my aide-de-camp. In the Foreign Office, you are my personal secretary. That includes making sure my wife functions exactly as she ought.”
“Benny,” Gabriel chided softly. “That should be handled by you.”
“Until Napoleon is gone and a peace established, I have no time for other things.”
“Siring a family is not something to delegate.” Though his voice didn’t raise, there was steel in his tone.
“Well,” Benedict hedged, “some things I may wish to do by myself. But for all the practical things, I shall rely on you.” Then he picked up the top letter on his correspondence pile and began to work. A moment later, Gabriel pushed to his feet.
“This is not a usual activity for a personal secretaries,” he groused.
“Definitely not,” Benedict quipped. “But then you are so much more than that to me.”
Gabriel huffed out a response. It was half grunt, half laugh and it meant that he had accepted his tasks. That was why they worked so well together. Benedict saw clearly what needed to be done, and Gabriel saw the things accomplished.
Even outrageous things, like the getting of a wife.