Chapter Nine
Benjamin had not been home to his townhouse since last night.
He still felt like a complete ass for the way he had treated Charlotte, and he was not ready to face her justified anger yet.
He was even less ready to face the spinning, gut-twisting sensations that her presence elicited.
The loss of complete control he usually maintained over both himself and his surroundings was disconcerting, at the least, and dangerous at worst.
After returning from the Dials, he had slept half the afternoon in his rooms above his office but then came down to the club floor after waking and being unable to fall back asleep.
The windows high above the carpeted rotunda were open wide to air out the building from the previous night, and the afternoon sun slanted in on dust motes, momentarily blinding Benjamin.
“You look like shit,” Elk called from across the room where he was lounging on an ornate settee, book dangling from one hand.
“Good morning to you too,” Benjamin grumbled, squinting over at his second, and last, true friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be planning a wedding?”
Alexander Burke, Marquess of Elkington, had returned to London only weeks earlier after nearly three years of sporadic travelling throughout the continent and further afield, and had announced himself betrothed to the second-eldest daughter of the Earl of Ravenswood.
The Wylde sisters were well known in both Edinburgh and London for living up to their surname. Elsie Wylde was widely regarded as a true spinster blue stocking by the ton—the most disappointing thing a beautiful woman could be. How little they knew.
She and Benjamin had met at one of his first, more legitimate, soirees just as he was getting a foothold in the business of entertainment for the idle rich.
She had proven an interesting acquaintance, intelligent and young—full of secrets.
Secrets that Benjamin now kept—though unlike all the other secrets he traded in, he had no intention of cashing in on her currency.
She did not deserve it, and neither did Elk.
Charlotte Aston did not deserve to have her secrets traded either. The thought flitted across his mind, and he shooed it away.
Though he would never admit it, it warmed his cold, hardened heart that Elsie Wylde had landed his friend. Or, more accurately, his friend had landed her. If only it did not stir this dark loneliness within him.
Elkington grinned the self-satisfied smile of a man happily ensnared. “Elsie’s family has it well in hand. I think I just get in the way.”
The idea of Elkington ensconced in a cosy domestic scene with his betrothed and their loving families shot a bolt of envy through Benjamin. He shook it off. Elkington and, more importantly, Elsie, deserved all the joy that had come to them, and Elk certainly did not deserve Benjamin’s surliness.
“I apologise, Elk. Congratulations again. I am so happy for you and Lady Elsie.”
“Thank you, Scarsdale.” Elkington stood and clasped hands with Benjamin. “It means the world to hear you say it. I only hope you find such happiness.”
Benjamin scoffed. “Marriage is for toffs and paupers. I have no use for it.”
Undeterred, Elkington shook his head and looked wistfully up at the slanting rays of sunlight making their way up the wall. “Someday, a bonnie lass will come along and change your mind, just you wait and see.” He gave the words a Scottish lilt, imitating his new fiancée’s natural brogue.
Benjamin felt a prickle of frustration again. Why could his friends never understand that he was not destined for the lives they lived? He had fallen too low—had started too low—for that ever to be possible. “What is it that you are here for?”
“I am part owner of this place. What reason do I need to stop by now and again?” Elkington made a show of looking affronted.
Benjamin gave him an unimpressed look.
“Alright, I came to ask a favour.” Benjamin laughed. There it was. “What say you to a few drinks and a chat with your old pal?”
“I say you just want to dip into my stores of foreign spirits before your leg is well and truly shackled. Though I suppose I can indulge it just this once.” Benjamin clapped his friend’s back, and they made their way across the floor to his office.
∞∞∞
The two men drank and talked together until the club patrons began filtering in. A knock on his office door broke their reverie, and Boyd poked his head around the door.
“There’s a lady here, sir.”
Benjamin did not sit up in his chair. “There are quite a few, Boyd. You know Elysium is open to women. As long as they have money in their pockets, I don’t much care who is allowed in.”
Boyd looked uneasy. “Yes, but she is not the usual type of lady.”
“Butler and Harvey know not to let prostitutes in, my boy. Not to worry. It is not that kind of establishment.” Boyd was an excitable type and had only been hired off the streets a few months ago. He was still settling into the change of clientele he saw.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but she is not a ladybird either. She is a lady lady. And a pretty one too if you look past the clothes.” He looked like he thought he’d said too much.
Benjamin felt a trickle of unease at the boy’s description. “Is she tall? And fair?”
Boyd nodded. “Like a fairy.” He squinted his eyes. “Are fairies tall?” His brow furrowed in serious thought.
It was nice to see the moment of whimsy on the young boy’s face. Benjamin knew only too well how quickly all flights of fancy were snuffed out in the cold, hard rabbit warren of the Dials. But the import of Boyd’s statement quickly pierced the moment, making Benjamin’s jaw clench.
Benjamin’s chair gave a thud on the plush rug as he rocked it back onto all four legs.
Boyd jumped. “Don’t worry, lad. You are not the one in trouble.
” He ruffled the boy’s hair as he whisked past him into the hall and out onto the gaming floor, Elkington close on his heels with an anticipatory gleam in his eye.
“Who is this fairy of yours, Ben?”
“She is not a fairy—I mean, she is not mine. Not my fairy.”
Elkington had the good sense to hold his tongue, but he watched with a barely suppressed grin as Benjamin scanned the already-packed gaming floor.
Amongst the swirling tide of masked revellers, it took no effort at all to spot Charlotte Aston’s bare face in the crowd.
Not that it would have anyway, Benjamin thought, taking in her rumpled appearance.
She was still wearing the dress he had bought for her and passed on to Lizzy.
Though he had the surreal feeling that he could have found her beautiful face even if he were blindfolded.
She locked eyes with him only a moment after he’d found her, and she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze straight on. She looked ready to march into battle, his elfin queen. No, Benjamin gave himself a mental shake, not his.
But she could be. The whisper of her secrets caressed his whirling mind, and he shuddered.
Charlotte began making her way through the crowd toward them, head held high, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.
“Ah.” The one syllable from Elkington was far too knowing.
“Lady Charlotte, what a pleasure it is to see you out and about. But are you sure it is wise for you to be up so soon, considering your condition?” Benjamin fought to keep his tone cool, charming, and solicitous.
He knew the leading statement would provoke her, and he was secretly gratified when her eyes flared.
“Your condition?” Elkington’s voice was raised nearly an octave above his usual baritone as he arched his eyebrows and gave Benjamin a questioning look.
She scowled at both of the men. “I am not…expecting. He shot me.” At her matter-of-fact declaration, Elkington’s eyebrows shot up even higher, and then he tipped his head back and laughed uproariously. “Alexander Burke, Marquess of Elkington. Pleased to make your acquaintance...”
“Lady Charlotte Aston.” Benjamin supplied, his throat grasping at the words as if he could keep her name to himself—and in so doing, squire the captivating woman away from prying eyes.
Elkington reached to take her hand in greeting, but she winced and shook her head ever so slightly. “Ah, yes. The gunshot wound in question. Well, in that case, I will take my leave of you. I imagine the two of you have much to discuss. Lady Charlotte, a pleasure.”
“Likewise, my lord.” She did not curtsy, as was customary. But she did give Elkington a tight smile—as if even the smallest of formalities were wearing down her last reserves.
She needed to lie down. And take some broth. Benjamin would have the cook make her something warm and fortifying. Maybe the housekeeper, Clarance, could mix her up a poultice and a draught of the sleeping herbs she had made en masse when some of the staff had come down with the grippe last winter.
Elkington started down the stairs behind Charlotte and had the audacity to look back and throw a wink at Benjamin. “Good luck,” he mouthed before he descended the rest of the stairs, an unnatural buoyancy to his step.
Benjamin ignored him and mapped the dark smudges beneath Charlotte’s eyes and the hollows in her cheeks and forehead.
Had he really seen her only yesterday? Her condition had worsened.
And clearly, she had not stayed in his chambers at the house in Hanover Square, where she should be resting.
Why had his staff not alerted him to her absence?
He reached out almost unconsciously to offer her a steadying hand. “Really, you should not be—”
Charlotte interrupted him. “I am here to repay my brother’s debt.”
The words stopped Benjamin dead in his tracks. The steel in her tone matched that in her spine. He was not getting out of this conversation.
“Please follow me if you would.”