Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I n the past four months they had been traveling together, Benjamin Rockwell had grown rather tired of the pattern he and Lady Margaret had fallen into. After doing her best to foolishly slip away from him, she always reverted to the single other arrow in her quiver.
Flirting with him.
Benjamin reached the carriage and quickly relayed to the driver where Lady Margaret and Miss Yates were waiting, then climbed inside. The foot warmer was still putting off some warmth, and inside the carriage was far more comfortable than outside. It only took a short minute or two before they pulled up in front of the florist. He wished it had taken longer—he was still vexed, in part from seeing a street thief slit Lady Margaret’s reticule as she’d been trying to slip away from Benjamin. But also in part from seeing the florist tower over her, trying to intimidate her.
All in all, it had been another eventful day, and he wasn’t at all sure he was in the right mind to deal with what he knew would be coming next. But arrive at the florist they did, and Benjamin had no choice but to step out of the carriage.
Distracted as he was, the cold air hit him more forcibly than he anticipated.
A hated and far too familiar tightening pain seized his chest.
Benjamin ground his jaw and forced himself to remain upright. He remained silent as he handed first her ladyship and then Miss Yates up into the carriage.
As soon as both ladies were inside, however, he turned his back to the door and coughed forcibly. The act cleared his lungs somewhat, but they still felt tight. But he couldn’t cough as much as his lungs wanted, not here, not where the ladies would overhear and worry about him.
Benjamin took a moment and inhaled slowly, and not too deeply lest he only make matters worse. Slowly, the tightness in his chest eased, and breathing became easier once more.
Bowled over by winter air…gads, what kind of a mollycoddle must he be?
Righting himself once more, Benjamin stepped into the carriage and shut the door, possibly with more force than was necessary.
“I must say,” Lady Margaret began hardly before the carriage was rolling, “that was quite the heroic show, what you did just now.”
And she was at it already.
Benjamin wasn’t sure which of the two battle tactics he enjoyed less. Her determination to see every new town without his protection irritated him to no end. And though he would rather die than admit it, the couple of times he’d truly lost her, he’d been terrified. Lady Margaret talked as though nothing bad would ever find her, but Benjamin knew from far too many experiences that such was simply not true.
That being said, he did know how to track a person. He knew how to scan a crowd and pick out a specific pink bonnet. He knew how to slip among thieves and gentlefolk alike and quickly get to where he needed to be.
But flirting?
That was a battlefield completely outside his training.
Instead of responding, as his lungs were still not feeling fully well, Benjamin merely gave her a curt nod.
“Do you not agree, Miss Yates?” Lady Margaret asked.
Miss Yates nodded. “Quite so,” she said in her small voice.
Benjamin gave her a short nod as well. Just because he wasn’t fond of the overt attention didn’t mean he would sink to being uncivil.
But neither did it mean he intended to let the conversation carry on longer than necessary. Shifting about in his seat, he turned himself markedly away from both ladies and set his focus on the window and the passing scenery.
“I do believe Lady Abernathy would greatly like to hear all that has happened to us this afternoon,” Lady Margaret continued as though she were speaking only to Miss Yates.
Benjamin closed his eyes to keep from visibly cringing at her suggestion. Any engagement on his part only encouraged her.
She did it to set him on edge—he knew this. Her flirting was insincere, as were the smiles she sent him. The few times she’d batted her lashes had been an overt gesture, one meant to provoke him, not charm him.
Unable to escape the perceived constraints of having him about, Lady Margaret seemed determined to punish him by flirting and making him decidedly uncomfortable.
Even as he sat across from her—half listening, half desperately trying to ignore her—Benjamin knew , without question, Lady Margaret’s whole aim was to irritate him.
And yet, he still struggled not to react.
Some years ago, while on leave, Benjamin had been sought out by Lady Margaret’s brother, Lord Vaughn. They’d shared drinks at White’s, where Lord Vaughn had bombarded him with questions about troop movements and the realities of England’s successes and failures on the battlefield. The marquess had even asked for Benjamin’s opinions on strategy and what their next steps should be.
He had told Benjamin he had never met a man more honest or trustworthy. At that moment, Benjamin had felt flattered, unaware the compliment would ultimately lead him to take on the role of guardian for Lord Vaughn’s spirited and headstrong sister.
It took less than half an hour to arrive at Mondstein Herrenhaus, but it felt to Benjamin far longer than that. Stepping outside once more, he prepared himself for the cold wind and found it didn’t affect him as harshly. Still, once inside he made his excuses as soon as possible and climbed the stairs to his bedchamber.
There, with the door securely shut between himself and the rest of the household, Benjamin gave in to the tightness in his chest and coughed for nearly ten minutes.
By the time he was done, Haverford, his valet, had come in with a tray of tea. Benjamin downed an entire cup in a single swallow. As he set down the cup once more, he coughed yet again, but not for as long as before.
“Did Lichterwald suit your taste?” Haverford asked.
Benjamin had hired the young man only two weeks before leaving on this trip. The first thing he’d insisted on, though, was that Haverford never ask if Benjamin was all right after a coughing fit. The fits alone were enough to drive Benjamin insane; there was no chance he’d keep his sanity if he had to answer the dreaded question “Are you all right?” after every episode.
Benjamin nodded and then cleared his throat yet again before he found he could speak. “The town is as quaint as any I’ve seen.”
Haverford raised a single brow. “And Lady Margaret?”
Benjamin had hired the valet at his cook’s recommendation, but now, nearly five months later, he still was not sure what he thought of the man. Haverford was friendly, responsible, and cared far more about how Benjamin attired himself than Benjamin ever would himself. But no matter seeing each other several times every day, no matter that Haverford was always pleasant and ready to help, Benjamin found he was never fully at ease around the valet.
Truth was, he missed Talbot. The man was more than a decade older than Benjamin but had served as his batman for the past 8 years. A friendship borne from so much time—time spent sleeping on dirt floors and living through the worst mankind could conceive—well, it couldn’t be replaced by a smile and a well-paired jacket and breeches.
But Talbot was retired now, as was Benjamin.
Which meant Talbot was living in a small cottage near the seaside, and Benjamin was stuck with Haverford.
“No matter what Lady Margaret did or didn’t do,” Benjamin said sternly, “she is a lady and deserves respect.”
Haverford chuckled. “Now, that sounds like a story the entire house will be talking about for the rest of the day.”
Benjamin scowled at his valet, but the young man’s back was toward him so it hardly mattered.
“It will start with the lady in question telling Lady Abernathy,” Haverford continued as he moved to set out a change of clothes for dinner. “After that, Her Grace will tell her lady’s maid. Then she will tell all the other maids.”
Haverford brought out two jackets, holding first one and then the other up to the rest of the ensemble already laid out. “After that, the footmen will start to gossip. At some point in the evening, the driver will want to have his say, since he no doubt saw part of the events and overheard a bit as well.” Haverford’s voice shifted, turning guttural and rough. “I says, that’s not quite right. Here’s what actually took place.”
Benjamin’s brow dropped. Haverford sounded precisely like their driver.
Haverford continued. “Our esteemed butler, Mr. Stein, is always telling the maids not to gossip, but as soon as there are no females around, he enjoys spreading hearsay as much as any of them.” Haverford’s voice turned wispy and creaky. “Well now, did you hear? If not for Mr. Rockwell I’d hate to think what would have happened.”
Benjamin slowly shook his head, quite taken aback. “You sound exactly like him…like them both.”
Haverford laughed as he returned a jacket, leaving out the one Benjamin would wear that evening. “It’s nothing much. Only a discerning ear and a bit of practice.”
Benjamin shook his head. “Even with years of practice, I don’t believe most could learn to speak in so many voices—and so accurately.”
“Perhaps. But it is hardly a skill that will help a man secure food or a roof over his head. Now, shall we get you dressed for dinner, sir?”
Some time later, Benjamin walked down the stairs, fully dressed for dinner and his lungs feeling better for staying out of the cold air. As he neared the bottom, he caught sight of Lady Margaret as she turned into the parlor, arm in arm with Lady Emily.
She looked lovely, as always. Tonight, she was wearing her dark blue dress. Because of the limitations of travel, the ladies had pared down their wardrobes to far fewer options than they might have enjoyed in London or even the countryside. Consequently, by now Benjamin had seen every dress Lady Margaret had brought with her.
The dark blue was one of his favorites.
It brought out the spark in her eyes and the warmth of her smile.
For a moment, he just stopped, pausing atop a stair, and allowed himself to face up to the truth.
Lady Margaret’s teasing always made him uncomfortable, but not only because he disliked all the flirting.
In actuality, if any other lady had flirted with him, he could have easily dismissed the attentions.
But since agreeing to travel with Lady Margaret and the group she was with, he’d seen her in a variety of situations. Sewing while aboard a ship in the middle of a storm. Playing cards after dinner with three young men excited for their grand tour—all of whom she’d routinely bested. Seeing to Lady Emily, Lady Abernathy’s daughter, while the young woman struggled to find her sea legs. She’d even spoken her mind openly and firmly to Lord Abernathy, a duke of no small repute. Apparently, His Grace preferred Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony while Lady Margaret preferred his Fifth.
She was spirited, adventurous, considerate, and quick to find the positive in any situation.
He ignored or tried to dissuade her whenever she grew coquettish. But had they met five years earlier, or even just two, he would have responded very differently.
But that wasn’t the case.
They hadn’t met five years ago, or two.
They’d met now.
After the Battle of Aspern-Essling.
After he’d inhaled far too much smoke while dragging his fellow soldiers from a burning building.
After the army had determined his lungs were too damaged for him to do anything but retire.
Drawing himself up, Benjamin slowly made his way toward the parlor. With every step, he stomped down all the possibilities that might have been with Lady Margaret.
A man easily felled by a brisk winter wind was not deserving of a lady’s affections.