Chapter Seven
Small feet thundered down the corridor before the door to Benedict’s dressing room burst open. “Uncle Benedict!” Gregory shouted and charged straight at him.
Using the momentum of the small body barrelling into him, Benedict caught his nephew and swung him upside down. Gregory dissolved into giggles, twisting and contorting his body in a futile—and false—effort to free himself.
Behind them, his valet sighed. “Your coat, my lord.”
“It will be fine, Matthews,” he said, dangling his squealing nephew by one leg.
“Do it more, Uncle Benedict!” Gregory shrieked. Benedict obliged, shifting his grip to his other leg.
His valet sighed again, and then again when first Maria and then Edward followed their brother into Benedict’s rooms.
“Uncle Benedict, Maria has stolen my soldier and won’t give it back,” Edward complained
“You weren’t even playing with him,” Maria said, tossing her hair and looking for a moment uncannily like her elder sister.
“It does not matter, he is mine, and you took him.”
“How delightful, all the children have now arrived,” Matthews remarked sourly.
Putting Gregory down despite his virulent protests, he said, “Buck up, man, don’t pout. There are only three of them. It could have been the full contingent of nieces and nephews.”
His valet gave him the sourest of looks.
Considering the siblings, he said thoughtfully, “Have you not yet learned how to share? I thought it something one learned before reaching five years of age.”
They both started talking at once, each arguing they had right over the other, while Gregory joined the din, demanding Benedict again pick him up.
Matthews clapped his hands sharply. “Children.”
They stopped as one, wide eyes turned to the valet.
“Children, you must display some decorum,” Matthews continued calmly. “If you can demonstrate such, I will dispense treats.”
Edward’s eyes lit up. “The ones in Uncle Benedict’s sitting room?”
“The same. Will you demonstrate decorum?”
“Yes,” they chorused, and proceeded to undertake their best impression of well-behaved children.
“Very good. You may follow me,” Matthews said, ushering them from the room.
Grinning, Benedict shook his head. His valet acted put upon, but Benedict was not the one who restocked the sweets in the crystal container displayed pride of place in the sitting room, the one Benedict himself was not allowed to touch.
With the children safely occupied, he examined himself in the dressing mirror for any damage Gregory may have wrecked.
Matthews had been putting the final touches on Benedict’s attire for the ball he was to attend with Lady C, Amanda, and the Earl when they’d been so dramatically interrupted.
There appeared to be no critical damage, not that there ever was.
He was well used to his nieces and nephews invading his rooms.
He'd barely completed the thought when his eldest nephew sauntered in insouciantly, his features arranged into a look of ennui so exaggerated, Benedict had trouble keeping a straight face. “I need your jade-handled walking stick.”
The most ostentatious of his walking sticks? Of course his nephew, overly concerned with his appearance, required it. “Please, Uncle Benedict, my most favourite of uncles, would you lend me your walking stick that is yours and therefore you may decide whether or not someone may borrow it?”
Rolling his eyes, George sighed expansively. “Uncle Benedict, may I borrow your walking stick?”
“You may,” he said.
George waited. And waited. “Well? Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” Benedict said airily.
George’s breath exploded. “Who does?” he demanded.
His nephew was so easy to bait. “Matthews knows where it is.”
“And where is Matthews?”
“Dispensing sweets to your brothers and sister. You are, of course, too old to wish for such treats.”
His nephew’s gaze flicked to the sitting room and the disaffected dandy disappeared, the boy Benedict knew well appearing. “Of course.”
George thought himself too mature for childish things, however that did not stop him from longing from them. Hiding the twitch of his lips, Benedict said, “Matthews is the best placed to assist you with your request.”
His nephew had disappeared through the door to the sitting room before he had finished his sentence.
Turning back to the mirror, he adjusted his cravat however it appeared the invasion was not over as the last of his nieces and nephews in residence swept through his still-open door.
Dressed for the ball and wearing an imperious expression, Amanda declared, “Uncle Bendict, you must dance with me this evening, and it must be at least twice.”
“Must I?” he said, raising his brow at her in the mirror.
She glared back. “Yes, you must. And you must not spend all your time with Lady Eleanor.
His hands stilled. He had been trying very hard not to think of El. Exhaling steadily, he said, “If you have decreed it, then it must be so. By the bye, you look lovely.”
“I know,” she said, tossing her head as Maria had only moments ago. She looked around. “My brothers and sisters were headed to your rooms. Where are they?”
“Matthews is dispensing treats in the sitting room,” he said.
Glancing at the door to the sitting room, longing warred in her expression. Much like George, Amanda had not that long ago been one of them, vying with her siblings for the choice sweets in that glass jar.
“I don’t believe anyone will know should you have one,” Benedict said.
“Well, it is only one.” With a quick grin, she disappeared into the sitting room.
As the door closed, his smile faded. Damn, but he wished Amanda had not mentioned El. Now that he’d thought on her, it was like a dam bursting.
He exhaled. He had resolved not to dwell on this and he’d been doing a damned fine job of it until Amanda had mentioned her name.
He had not seen El since their last lesson.
He’d thought too much about their kiss, had felt the lingering softness of her lips against his too often.
The kiss had invaded his dreams, such that he woke every morning with the taste of her on his lips.
He did not know how to rid himself of this obsession.
He’d never been so consumed by something as simple as a kiss, and it could not have been as good as his memory had painted it.
That he could recall the feel of her lips beneath his in perfect clarity did not mean a thing.
“Are my children with you?”
Thank Christ Lady C had arrived, and with her distraction from thoughts of El. Always it seemed most everyone who resided in this house wished to visit his rooms. He nodded at the sitting room. “Matthews is plying them with sweets.”
“Oh, good. They will be full of sugar and completely unmanageable.” Shaking her head ruefully, she said, “Why do I always find them in your chambers, Benedict?”
He shrugged. “I have the good treats?”
She sighed. “I think it more they love their Uncle Benedict. They always contrive ways to congregate in your rooms. I am surprised Peter did not abscond from school to find his way to your rooms.”
Before he could respond, Gregory exploded into the room, followed hotly by Maria and Edward. They screamed and shouted, something about Gregory stealing the last lemon sweet and Maria and Edward were going to destroy him.
Lady C raised her voice above the din. “There is a reason I too have come to your rooms. Colgrove wishes to speak with you. He waits in his study.” Catching her youngest son, she threw a look only a mother could at her other children.
Maria and Edward immediately quieted, and she was so distracted with controlling her children she did not notice how Benedict had stilled.
“You’d best attend him, Benedict. I will not have Amanda arrive a moment later than we intend.
” Her arm wrapped around Gregory, she continued, “Please remind him we will leave at a quarter past the hour, with or without him.”
He nodded stiffly and he left Maria and Edward attempting to argue with their mother—a futile endeavour, as he and El well knew. In no time at all he stood before his brother’s study.
He took a long breath. This summons did not bode well, and moments before they were to leave for a ball. Whatever it was, his brother did not want to give him time to argue.
At the muffled ‘come’ he entered and found the Earl standing by the unlit fireplace. Pointing at Benedict with his half-full brandy, he said, “Good. You are here.” His brother took draught of his brandy and seemed to brace himself. “We must talk about your marriage.”
Benedict did not react. He would not give the Earl the satisfaction. “Are we to discuss fiction, brother?” he said, as if he had not just been blindsided.
The Earl frowned. “No. Why would we discuss fiction?”
“Because any discussion of my marriage is such. I have no plans to pursue a bride any time soon.”
“Do not be glib, Benedict, this is in earnest.” The Earl placed his glass on the mantle. “We’re about to brave the marriage mart, you would be wise to take advantage of it. You will soon have thirty years of age, Benedict. It is time for you to take a wife.”
“I do not see how this is any business of yours.”
“It is my business. As head of this family, it behoves me to ensure my siblings are well settled. You are the only one who remains at loose ends.”
“My ends are not loose, Colgrove.”
The Earl gave a long-suffering sigh. “You have no pursuit, no purpose. A wife will give you purpose, Benedict. A family to care for. You cannot say you do not wish a family, when you spend so much time with mine.”
Perhaps he did, but he loved his nieces and nephews, and he loved they felt they could invade his rooms whenever they felt like it.
He loved that they looked for him, that they talked with him, that they gave him their attention and their time.
It was such a privilege, and he would not let his brother take that from him.
“Are you saying I am using your children?”
“I am not saying that, and you know I am not.” The Earl straightened to his full height, annoyingly an inch and a half taller than Benedict.
“My lady and I have allowed you to remain in Colgrove House, however it would behove you to choose a bride this season. I have been silent on this subject for too long. You are the last of our brothers and sisters to remain unattached and I would have this family sorted before my children make matches of their own.”
Damn his brother to Hades for raising this just as they were preparing to depart for tonight’s ball. “I do not wish to wed.”
His brother’s brow rose. “Ever?”
“No, I—” He stopped abruptly. He’d not thought on it thoroughly, to be honest. Vague notions of a wife and children had occurred to him in the past, but he had mountains of time and no firm desire to pursue such.
El’s face, flushed with laughter and lips swollen from his kiss, flashed before him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “No, not ever, however not now.”
The Earl raised a brow. “You have avoided your duty for too long,” he said. “You will be married before the end of the year. You are past the age to set up your household. If you need a push, then I’ll damned well give you a shove.”
Resentment licked at him like flame. Who did his brother think he was, to order him so? He may be the head of their family and responsible for the earldom, but he could not force Benedict to wed where he did not wish.
His brother adjusted his cuffs. “I expect to hear of your engagement by the end of the season. Now, we must to the ball. I will not have my lady displeased with me because we kept her waiting.”
Still tugging at his cuffs—something Benedict knew he did when he felt uncomfortable—the Earl made haste from the room.
Benedict remained motionless. Through the open study door came the sounds of Lady C and Amanda congregating in the hall preparing to leave for the ball.
He didn’t know what to think, but he knew how to feel.
Anger at his brother’s highhandedness consumed him.
Christ, this was beyond ridiculous and he could not even yell at him.
Oh no, he had to alight a carriage and travel to a ball and socialise and pretend all the while he was not angry as hell at his—
El. El would be at the ball. El would allow him to vent and rant. She would agree with him and tell him the Earl had overstepped and she would… She would calm him.
Grimly, he strode from the room, keeping his gaze ahead as Lady C watched him, the Earl eyed him warily, and Amanda chattered animatedly about the night ahead.
El would calm him. He only had need to hold himself until then.