Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Hugh Montcort had been best friends with Ben for over fifteen years. Something had fallen into place upon their first meeting that had drawn them together more than the other gents. Their friendship with the other men was solid and true, but it was not the same as what Ben and Cort shared.
Cort could tell Ben anything, and the opposite held true. Or so he thought.
Cort stood in the billiards room watching as Ben and Ponsy squared off.
Ponsy pulled back his cue and hit the white ball, sending it crashing into the red one. It dropped with a thunk into the side pocket as Ponsy grinned at them.
“Try to best that, if you can.” Ponsy stood tall and smiled confidently at Ben.
“I intend to do just that.” Ben leaned forward and lined up his shot.
Ponsy cleared his throat as Ben pulled back his cue. “Ben, what did we witness last evening between you and Lady Amelia?”
Ben’s gaze shot up to Ponsy and his cue went wide, sending the white ball bouncing along the table and hopping the side wall. It hit the floor with a thunk.
Ponsy grinned. “It looks as if you lost, Ben.”
He glared at Ponsy. “It’s only because you were yammering on behind me.” He slammed his cue back into the holder in the corner. “If that is the only way you can win a game…” Ben trailed off, his brow raised high.
“It was not a ploy to win, it was an honest question. I don’t need trickery. I simply voiced what all of us are thinking.” Ponsy leaned his chin on the tip of his cue.
“It was trickery, was it not Cort?” Ben looked at Cort, his eyes pleading.
“The timing of it was beneath you, Ponsy,” Cort agreed. Although, it didn’t disappoint him that Ponsy had asked the question. They’d all seen the intimate interaction.
Ponsy shrugged but did not respond.
Ben sighed. “I don’t know what you are speaking of.” He stared at them with no expression on his face.
Cort stepped forward. “Come, Ben. Do you often allow women to run delicate fingers across your brow?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “You are making too much of the situation. It meant nothing. She’s been doing that to me since she was barely out of leading strings.”
Charlie, Colin, and Reginald exchanged a look. “But she is not a little girl any longer,” Charlie said to the room.
Ben scowled at them. “It was nothing. It’s something that has become a habit for her—like breathing.”
Cort grinned. “You seemed to enjoy it far more than you do breathing.”
Ben turned his scowl on him. “Not you too, Cort.”
“If there was something to defend, I would.” He lifted his shoulders.
“From where we were sitting, it looked quite intimate.” Reginald folded his arms. “Are you certain you do not have more than a friendly relationship with Lady Amelia?”
“My association with Mia does not differ from my friendship with any of you,” Ben said defensively.
“And yet, I have never run my fingers delicately across your brow. What of the rest of you gents?” Colin’s brows waggled, only just holding back his laughter. “Have any of you been caressing Ben’s brow without the rest of us knowing it?”
“I haven’t,” Chalie shook his head.
“I’ve thought on it a time or two but decided against it. Sarah wouldn’t like it,” Reginald smirked.
“I’ve refrained because I didn’t want anyone thinking there was an agreement between us.” Cort sidestepped Ben’s fist, which came close to hitting its mark.
“You’re a bunch of nodcocks, that’s what you are,” Ben growled. “Mia and I are friends. And we have been far longer than I have known any of you. Perhaps you should keep your ridiculous thoughts to yourself.” He ran a hand through his hair and cast them one last withering look before he turned on his heel and marched to the door. He paused just before he passed over the threshold. “I have some business to attend to. I’ll see you later for tea. I hope by then you’ll have all the gossip out of your systems.”
The men all looked at each other, a knowing look on their faces.
“That went as well as I expected,” Charlie leaned against the table.
“Yes, me think he doth protest too much,” Colin said.
Cort sat on the corner. “It should prove to be a diverting party, that is for certain.”
Cort looked up and down the corridor to make certain they were, indeed, alone before he shut the door and leaned against it. There was no sense in having Ben walk in and interrupt the conversation. Not when it centered on him.
“What did you want to discuss, Mariah?” Reginald leaned against the armoire in his sister’s sitting room.
“Sarah and I have been talking, and we believe there is affection between Lord Berwick and Lady Amelia.” She folded her arms across her chest as if challenging them to refute the idea.
Colin shrugged. “I concur, but when we broached the subject yesterday, Ben denied any partiality adamantly. He says they are only friends.”
Lady Stoke scoffed. “After what we witnessed at dinner? How can he deny it?”
“Did you see the way she caressed his face? Many would say the action conveyed an agreement between them.” Lady Heatherton ran her hands down the front of her skirt thoughtlessly.
“He says Lady Amelia has been smoothing that crease on his brow since she was a child. It’s just something she does. He says it means nothing.” Charlie sounded as if he were trying to convince himself as much as the ladies.
“Balderdash,” Lady Heatherton spat.
“Mariah,” Lady Stoke looked appalled at her sister-in-law. She turned back to the men. “Although, I understand her sentiment. I do not believe a word of Lord Berwick’s excuse. It’s nothing but fustian nonsense.” She looked at Lady Heatherton, her gaze saying that was how a lady spoke.
“If it were only the caress, he might persuade me to his side—grudgingly. But there were other things which showed his partiality.” Lady Heatherton’s head shook. “Did you see the way he leaped over the couch when she entered the room?” She glanced at Lady Stoke. “What kind of man does such a thing?”
“A besotted fool,” Charlie frowned.
“And what of him offering his hand to help her stand?” Lady Stoke cut in.
“Any gentleman would do that. I do not see that as proof. It’s no different from handing a lady out of the carriage,” Cort defended. While he had his suspicions, he was not altogether comfortable with them gathering together to speak about Ben.
“But there is much more to it. Do you not see the way he looks at her? His are not the looks of a friend. There is much more meaning in them.” Lady Stoke chimed in.
Reginald moved over and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “And you are an expert on the looks of one in love?” He smiled, but it was not a smirk. It was—if Cort had ever seen one—a look of love. Perhaps they knew of what they spoke.
“If what you are saying is true, what matter is it of ours? Should it not be between Lady Amelia and Ben?” Cort shifted, trying to relieve the tightness in his shoulders. “It is not our affair, so why are we discussing it?”
“Must we spell it out for you?” Lady Heatherton put her hands on her hips even though she was sitting. Colin put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Apparently, you must,” Charlie countered. “I have no notion what you expect us to do about it.”
“I’m glad you asked,” a sly smile grew on her lips.
“I didn’t ask anything,” Charlie’s gaze flicked around the room. “Did any of you hear me ask anything?”
The gents shook their heads.
“Sarah and I wish to see them together. But it seems they need our help.” She looked haughtily at all the men. Did she wish for one of them to refute her? Indeed, Cort did not know her well, but he was wary of the confrontation that would surely ensue.
He looked at the other men in the room and they all had a similar look of blank confusion.
Lady Stokes released an exasperated sigh. “We intend to force their hands. They will declare themselves to each other before the party is over. If our plan succeeds.”
“What plan? You have not yet told us the plan.” Colin leaned against the wall behind the couch. “Although I’m quite certain we will not like it.” He let out a deep breath.
“It’s simple,” Lady Heatherton lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “One of you will simply feign an interest in Lady Amelia. It will drive Lord Berwick mad and force him to proclaim himself to her.”
All the men were quiet, doing little more than blinking. Finally, Ponsy broke the silence. “Your wives are as mad as a March hare.” He stood and stared down at the women with his arms crossed over his chest.
Indeed, nearly everyone in the room had their arms crossed. The tension increased with every tick of the clock.
“I agree,” Charlie said.
“There now, you need not speak so freely, Ponsy. That is my wife you are speaking of.” Colin scowled at the man, before turning to his wife. “But he’s not completely wrong, Mar. I’m uncertain our meddling is the best idea.”
“Berwick is a man and a very stubborn one at that. We,” Lady Stoke nodded toward Lady Heatherton, “both saw it when they were at the house party at Ravencliff last summer. Nevertheless, they seem no closer to an arrangement than they were then. If we do nothing, the two of them will become spinsters.” She frowned. “At least she will, he will just be an old codger.”
Cort stepped forward. “Your intentions are pure, I’m certain. But I don’t feel comfortable tricking Ben like that. Not to mention Lady Amelia.”
“Besides, what will become of our ‘league’,”—Charlie emphasized the name which many in society had given their little band of gentlemen—“if we lose another to the parson’s noose? I want no part of this.”
Lady Heatherton glared at him. “You would rather see your friend miserable than married?”
“I thought it was the same,” Ponsy grumbled.
Both ladies now glared at all of them.
Cort held up his hands. “While I don’t believe marriage means misery in all cases, I do not believe it is our place to interfere.”
Lady Stoke shook her head. “If your friend had the ague, would you not send for a doctor to help him?”
Cort guffawed. “Of course, I would. But you can hardly?—”
She pursed her lips and raised a single brow. “This is simply a sickness of the heart. It is not so very different.”
“I’d say it’s a sickness,” Charlie grumbled. “And we would all be so fortunate not to catch it.”
Lady Heatherton shrugged. “Very well, if you will not help us, we will simply find a gentleman who will. And as Lady Amelia is not in the least bit unpleasant to look upon, nor penniless, I don’t foresee a problem finding an amiable suitor.”
Reginald shook his head. “Now wait a minute, Sarah. Are you trying to matchmake Ben and Lady Amelia? Or simply find a match for her? Because finding another man only seems to muddy the waters.”
“You are forcing our hands,” Lady Heatherton lifted her chin. “I admit, it would be better for both of them if one of you should agree to the task, but if you are unwilling to help your friend—” She left the sentence unfinished and sighed instead.
Cort kneaded at his brow with his fingers. The ladies had a point, and he agreed with their assessment. However much he agreed with them, his stomach twisted at the thought of pretending to court her. It was unkind to both Lady Amelia and Ben. But using someone outside their group of friends—someone who did not have Lady Amelia and Ben’s well-being in mind—was unacceptable. At least if one of the gents feigned an interest in her, they would not be actively trying to win her affection. Which was not something he could guarantee from an outsider. “I’ll do it,” he murmured, feeling much like he’d just agreed to walk the plank.
The other men gasped, while the ladies grinned like Cheshire cats. “A wise decision, my lord. Your friend will thank you.”
“What the blazes, Cort?” Ponsy turned on him. “How can you be a party to this scheme?”
Cort licked his lips. “I agree with their assessment. Indeed, I’ve believed it for several years. Ben once told me that Lady Amelia plans never to marry. She wishes to receive her inheritance and live as an independent spinster. Perhaps that is why he does not act on his feelings—I don’t know for certain. But he’s appeared unsettled for some time.” He looked at all his friends. “We’ve all noticed it. Yet, I haven’t seen it since I’ve arrived.”
Charlie sputtered. “But he’s home. Everyone feels at ease in their own home.”
“It’s not even been two days. How can you know anything in that amount of time?” Ponsy chimed in.
Cort looked over at Reginald and Colin. “You two have said little on the matter.”
Colin shrugged. “We’re in between Scylla and Charybdis on this one, Cort.” He glanced at his wife, who rolled her eyes.
“If someone is going to feign an interest in Lady Amelia, I would rather it be one of us. We will steer her towards Ben, even if it is indirectly. Someone outside this group might use the situation to their advantage.” Cort lifted his shoulders. “I just want to do what’s best for both of them.” He looked at the ladies. “But it will be harder than you suspect. Do not plan the wedding just yet. From what I know of Lady Amelia and Ben, they are both rather hard-set. It will take great effort.”
Lady Stoke smiled. “But are not the hardest fought battles the most rewarding victories?”