Chapter 1 #2
“Ah! A man who is not only handsome, but capable of listening? Why, I’m smitten already!
” Clara teased. Nodding to him, she withdrew and gestured to her left.
“This is my sister, Catherine. Mother’s presently napping, but I can wake her, should you desire it?
Father is in court, so I imagine he’ll be detained for quite some time. ”
The man quickly shook his head. “No. No, no, that won’t be necessary.”
“Splendid! If that’s all there is to it, William will take your bags and show you to your room,” Clara said, folding her hands.
“Although you have arrived a sennight early, I am certain our parents will be thrilled to house you. The supper gong goes off at six, so do make sure you aren’t late. Father detests unpunctuality.”
Mr. Ashby bowed, and Clara and Catherine both curtsied.
While William led the newcomer toward the guest bedroom, Clara leaned over to her sister and whispered, “He has the backside of a Greek god.”
“Clara Boyd!” Catherine hissed, mortified. “Have you no shame?”
“Why no, none that I’m aware of,” she said, beaming. “Shall we read for a bit? I’ve grown rather bored.” Linking her arm through her sister’s, Clara grinned and spirited Catherine off to the downstairs library. Things were suddenly far more interesting in New York City.
Benjamin was in a state of absolute panic. Pacing in his assigned guest bedroom, he pressed a fist over his mouth and exhaled through his nose, his head ducking as he moved from one side of the floor to the other.
This wasn’t happening. This was not happening. After all the research he’d done on the Boyds—the father, the mother, the three girls—how in God’s name had it escaped him that Charlotte was courting some mysterious suitor? And why had he leapt at the opportunity to pose as her soon-to-be betrothed?
Well done, jingle brains, he furiously thought.
As promising as the lie seemed at first, Benjamin was quick to realize he was a complete dunderhead for changing his story.
Initially, he’d written Jedediah as a “Mr. White from Philadelphia,” offering his services as a bookkeeper.
The man had accepted, given his present lack of supporting staff, and invited Benjamin to come to his estate for a proper interview.
From there, Benjamin planned to ingratiate himself with the family and befriend them.
Now, however, he’d fallen prey to the allure of instant access, and thus, completely condemned himself to the gallows.
Not only did he know absolutely nothing about this Philip Ashby, but he also didn’t have a wardrobe beyond what was in his travel bag.
The meddlesome daughters had ruined everything!
“Blood and thunder,” Benjamin groused.
Just as he was concocting a new plan, a knock came at the door, and Clara Boyd poked her head into the room.
“Pardon me, Mr. Ashby,” she chirped, “but have you gotten yourself settled?”
Stunned, Benjamin gaped at her in shock. Checking on the welfare of a guest, let alone one of the male persuasion, was most certainly not something a female member of the elite would do. It was inappropriate—scandalous—and a faint flush overtook Benjamin up to the tips of his ears.
“Miss Boyd,” he greeted. “Though I appreciate the concern, this is hardly proper.”
To his surprise, Clara snorted. It was a coarse, unladylike sound, and she shrugged, stepping farther into the room.
“I wished to lend my assistance,” she said. “I noticed you don’t have any accompaniment—not entirely wise, if you want my opinion.”
“I don’t,” Benjamin snapped, only to immediately regret his tone.
Clara, however, seemed charmed by his brusqueness.
“Well! At long last, a man who isn’t trying so desperately to pucker-up at my backside.
” She folded her hands. “I imagine in your haste to acquaint yourself with your lady-love’s family, you must have forgotten everything: your servants, your carriage, your…
” she trailed off, appraising him uncomfortably close, “…fiancée. Where is our darling Charlotte?”
“Philadelphia. With your aunt, Martha,” Benjamin said, praying for this to still be true.
Clara arched a brow. “You decided to come to town separately?”
“Yes. I wanted to do the honorable thing and ask for your sister’s hand, face-to-face, man-to-man with your father.” Palms sweating, Benjamin composed himself with a taut smile. “I adore Charlotte, Miss Boyd. I intend to do right by her.”
“And so you shall,” Clara said, sounding bored. “Father worships the very ground Lottie walks on, so you are assuredly in good company, sir.” Again, she appraised him. “Part of this mystery still remains unsolved; whyever did you travel without accompaniment?”
“I was nervous,” Benjamin fumbled, lifting his shoulders. “I do my best thinking by myself, so…I informed the hired help I wished to be alone. I decided to travel via horseback.”
“And your horse is…?”
“In the stockade with your farmhands. To be frank, I am lucky to still have her.” Feigning humility, Benjamin ducked his head and lied, “At the end of my trip, I was robbed by highwaymen. Despite my best efforts to present myself as a commoner, they took nearly everything I own: my money, the majority of my luggage, my very dignity, and yet I managed to pull ahead and escape.”
Finally, Clara’s unruffled demeanor developed a slight chink. “Highwaymen? Oh, good gracious! You are fortunate your entry passport was not stolen!” Concerned, she inspected him with a different sort of invasiveness. “Are you hurt? Should we send for the constable?”
“No, no, I trust they’re long gone,” Benjamin dismissed. “With my lack of coin, I was forced to ride the rest of the way without stopping.”
Clara fluttered a hand to her throat. “Lord above, why didn’t you seek help? You’re completely mad!”
I truly am, he bitterly thought. “I trust this was all you needed, Miss Boyd?”
Pursing her mouth, she stepped back and nodded. “I will have William lend you whatever you need. Name it, and it shall be done. You and Father aren’t so different in height, so I trust I can find you some extra raiment.”
Benjamin frowned. “Will your father not notice?”
“Notice what, a few missing garments? Goodness, no!” Clara said, waving a hand. “He never wears the same outfit more than twice, if he can help it.”
With a swell of relief in his chest, Benjamin bowed his head. “Then I would be much obliged, thank you.”
She hummed. “Remember, Mr. Ashby, the supper gong is struck at six.” Slowly, Clara’s good humor returned, and she smirked. “Might I make one small suggestion?”
A stab of unease filled Benjamin’s chest, but he nodded.
“Whenever you do speak with Father, please try and appear as if you don’t have a giant stick lodged up your bottom.
It’s rather unseemly.” Breaking into a sly grin, she winked and offered a curtsy.
“That is all, Mr. Ashby. I look forward to seeing you at suppertime. Lottie’s been rather secretive, so I simply cannot wait to learn more about you! ”
When Clara ducked from the room, smug and with her head held high, Benjamin exhaled and sank onto his canopied bed with a heavy bounce.