Chapter Twelve
Lord Benedict gaped at Nate over the nauseating bulbous breasts of the woman on his lap.
He was already physically ill from the charade he’d had to enact with the French king’s ambassador.
Any man with half a brain would realize he would be repulsed by the tawdry assets of this overly powdered woman.
But that was the problem. LeFauvre had less than half a brain.
He assumed that whatever he wanted would of course be the desires of every other man on the planet.
So it was that he greeted Lord Nathaniel with a sense of relief, though it was tinged with confusion. “I thought you were on the way to Carlton House.” They needed Prinny to weigh in on some minor issues about Tobago.
“A problem with the wine,” murmured Lord Nathaniel in his ear. “Of a personal nature to you.”
Personal? He had no personal business that could be pressing.
Unless something had happened to his parents.
He twisted to see Lord Nate’s face. “My father?” he whispered.
Stupid that. It was a measure of his panic at the thought of his father’s death that he did such a thing in full view of a half dozen dignitaries.
Fortunately, the women were doing their job in distracting the men.
Still, it was a mistake that warned him how much he was in his cups.
Nate shook his head. “Matrimonial,” he mouthed back.
Matrimonial! That was when he forgot himself so much as to gape at the man.
The word didn’t even compute in his head.
Maybe he misread the word off Nate’s lips.
He was overtired and a little bleary-eyed.
Napoleon’s abdication had transferred all the weight of the war from the military to the diplomatic corps.
Every winning nation wanted to carve up the spoils for their own benefit.
He and Castlereagh had been working day and night to ensure that Britain got her fair share and that the result didn’t lead to another war out of disgruntled spite.
Meanwhile, Nate did him the amazing favor of extending a hand to the buxom woman on Benedict’s lap.
“Prinny is attending to other matters of state,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“But he should be pleased to speak with you in the morning.” It was a lie.
Prinny was not a man to speak civilly to anyone in the morning, but it was a standard lie used to cover all manner of sins.
Unfortunately, the French ambassador wasn’t drunk enough to miss that.
“Ha,” LaFauvre snorted as he flipped himself on top of his whore. “I know what state he is in.”
The lady squealed in delight as the Frenchman loosened his breeches. Benedict tried not to vomit at the sight. Damnation, the night was rapidly spinning out and apparently there was something of vital importance still to be handled in the wine cellar.
Thankfully, Nate continued to tempt Benedict’s woman away. “Pray allow me to entertain your companion while you attend to the prosaic matters of state.”
The woman must have sensed that she was getting nowhere with Benedict, so she uncoiled out of his lap to wrap herself around Nate. “Coo, aren’t you a muscular one,” she said.
Nate responded with the natural ability of a born spy. He fondled the woman until she squealed. And while everyone’s eyes were on his obvious hand movements, he caught and held Benedict’s gaze.
“Malta,” Benedict mouthed. They needed to know why the French king was suddenly so keen on acquiring the Mediterranean island. Louis XVIII was already getting his throne back. Why would he demand a tiny island as well?
Nate nodded, even as he neatly maneuvered himself and the woman to an advantageous position on the floor.
LeFauvre was often loose-lipped right after he finished his business with a woman, and Nate knew how to take advantage of such a moment.
Which meant that Benedict could spare himself the entire revolting scene.
He stood up and straightened his clothing as if he hid an erection.
He did not. Indeed, his privates had shriveled up into near non-existence.
A few steps later and he was finally able to take his first full breath since the women had arrived.
Whatever perfume the whores wore made him lightheaded.
He saw Limpy standing by the wine cellar door. Fortunately, the clearer air allowed him to get his head together enough to ask a question without revealing his ignorance. “Everything quiet down there?”
“Aye, m’lord. Lord Nathaniel and her talked for a bit, then he went to get you.”
“How does she look?” Limpy might be uneducated, but he had a keen eye for detail, and he’d been in this business for a long time. Benedict respected his acumen.
“Young, m’lord, but not dumb. She’ll learn quick enough with the right guidance. She’ll be an asset t’ you.”
So it was Miss Caddick. Damnation, what was the woman doing here? And on a night like this?
“Thank you. Please see that we’re not disturbed.” He paused a moment to consider his options. “And see that my carriage is readied. We’ll be leaving soon.”
“Aye, milord.”
Then he opened the door and began his descent. He moved slowly, letting the weight of his step show his displeasure. And if she didn’t catch the hint, he allowed his fatigue to show on his face.
“Miss Caddick,” he drawled when he hit the bottom step. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” He let irony lace his tone.
Then he saw her face.
If ever a woman was tortured by her thoughts, it was her.
There was frustration in her wide-eyed confusion, but whatever could be bothering her?
As far as he knew, her life remained exactly as it had been before he proposed.
Surely, she was not the kind of woman to fret over the details of the wedding breakfast. If so, then he had vastly misjudged her.
“I am so sorry to bother you, my lord. Indeed, if I had understood the importance of this evening, then I surely wouldn’t have interrupted you.”
The importance of this evening? “Tonight’s work was awkward, but not any more important than any other night.”
She frowned. “Awkward…because of those women?”
So she had seen them. Or heard them. Even down in the wine cellar, the irritating sound of giggles filtered through. “Diplomacy requires information. And sometimes the gathering of such knowledge happens in less than moral ways.” He frowned at her. “Does this upset you?”
“What? No. Or rather only in the most general of ways. It is unfortunate that such tactics are required.”
That was what he’d guessed, given that she treated all manner of patients without apparent prejudice.
But that didn’t explain why she was here now.
With another person, he might have snapped at them, ordering them to get on with their issue while they had his attention.
But she was not his subordinate in the typical sense.
She was his future wife, and it was worth his time to understand her fears.
So when she failed to speak—indeed she looked excruciatingly anxious about speaking—he did something rare.
He chose to make her more comfortable.
He turned to a cabinet hidden under the stairs. Opening it, he cleaned off a pair of wineglasses, then set them on the table. Fortunately, he knew exactly where the good wine was kept and quickly selected a bottle.
“Limpy said I shouldn’t drink any,” she said.
“Limpy knows I will.” He opened the bottle and began to pour, too impatient to allow the liquid to breathe. He filled his glass to the brim, then paused over her glass. “You may do as you wish.”
“By all means, fill it up,” she said with a self-mocking snort. It was an indelicate sound that he appreciated. He hated simpering women. Truthfully, he hated most women, including his mother, so that hardly boded well for his future wife.
He gave her a full measure of drink, then set the bottle aside. Then he swirled the liquid in his glass as she did the same, though he could tell she was simply mimicking him. Ah well, she would learn. No person remained in his company for long without learning the finer points of wine.
“I’ve ordered my carriage brought around for you, so you don’t have much time. Pray explain yourself.” He tried to make his tone gentle, but he was tired, and she was nervous. He became very blunt in situations like this.
To her credit, she didn’t flinch from him. Indeed, after a large gulp of wine, she squared her shoulders and faced him. “Actually, my lord, I’m here to ask you to explain yourself.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Undaunted, she matched his cold tone with one of her own. “I am not a child who expects romantic gifts or poetic expressions of love.”
He knew. That was one reason why he selected her.
“But if we are to build an amicable life together, then I require some clarity on your expectations of me.”
He frowned. “I should think that was obvious.”
She arched a brow as she stared at him. “What is obvious to you is perhaps less obvious than you think.”
He felt his lips curve. “Major Vance often says that as well.”
Her lips tightened and he could see that she did not favor the major. And that was going to make all of their lives difficult. He resolved to address that in a moment. For now, he answered her question.
“I require you to bear my children and raise them to meet or exceed the level of their station. Mine is an old name and an honored title that has served the Crown for generations. I will not have my children disgrace their heritage.”
“I would like that as well,” she said.
Good. But the very thought of procreating children sent him to his wine. He took his time with it, sipping slowly as he tried to order his thoughts. It wasn’t easy, given that this was not his first bottle tonight.