Chapter 5 #2
Their friendship had survived youth, inheritance, grief, and the steady proof that they were temperamentally unsuited to share a carriage for more than two hours.
It endured because Nathaniel laughed where Benedict brooded and Benedict stayed where Nathaniel wandered.
Each, though he would have denied it under oath, often saved the other from becoming unbearable.
“It is for the girls,” Benedict explained.
Nathaniel’s expression softened, though he kept his tone easy. “Ah.” He sat forward, elbows on knees. “And Miss Norton?”
“What of her?”
“Is she eighty? Cross-eyed? In possession of a laugh that frightens horses?”
Benedict gave him a flat look.
Nathaniel grinned. “Come, old boy. You’re asking a lady to become duchess, mother, moral guide, household ornament, and chief defender against Marjorie’s experiments with gravity. Surely a man may inquire whether she is also pleasant to look at.”
“That does not matter.” The answer came too quickly.
Nathaniel’s grin widened with wicked delight. “So she is.”
Benedict reached for the ledger again, then abandoned the attempt. “She is suitable.”
“Suitable,” Nathaniel repeated. “A romantic declaration. Shall I have it embroidered upon the wedding linen?”
“She is kind, sensible and brave when necessary. The girls trust her.”
“All excellent qualities. None of which prevent a lady from being pretty.”
Benedict looked toward the window, where pale afternoon light lay across the lawns.
He had no intention of discussing Sophia Norton’s appearance.
It was entirely irrelevant. The softness of her brown hair when it escaped its pins, the gentle intelligence of her hazel eyes, the way color rose in her cheeks before courage followed…
None of these things had any bearing on the matter.
“She is… not disagreeable,” he admitted.
Nathaniel laughed outright. “My dear fellow, from you that is practically poetry.”
Benedict frowned. “I require someone who will care for Amelia and Marjorie. Someone permanent.”
Nathaniel’s merriment faded a little. “And you believe Miss Norton can be that person?”
“I believe she may already be that person, in some measure. The girls ask for her constantly.”
“And you?”
Benedict’s eyes lifted. “What about me?”
“Do you ask for her constantly?”
“I do not ask for anyone constantly.”
“True. You once wanted a physician and sent a note saying only, ‘Come if convenient.’”
“I had a fever.”
“You nearly died of stubbornness.”
“I recovered.”
“Unfortunately for all who enjoy peace.”
Benedict almost smiled. The sensation was so unfamiliar in the middle of such worry that he suppressed it at once.
“My friend,” Nathaniel spoke, “you know I delight in tormenting you, but even I must confess this is serious business.”
“I am aware.”
“No, you are responsible. That is not the same thing as aware.” Nathaniel tapped one finger upon the arm of his chair.
“You are considering the girls. Good. You always do. You are considering propriety, duty, rank, household arrangements, and probably whether the west nursery receives sufficient sun after three o’clock. ”
“It does not.”
“Naturally. But have you considered that Miss Norton may wish to be more than useful?”
Benedict’s answer failed him.
Outside the study, quick footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Nathaniel’s face brightened. “Speaking of storms approaching.”
The door burst open for the second time that afternoon, though this time Benedict found he minded far less.
“Uncle Nathaniel!” Marjorie cried, flying into the room as though fired from a cannon.
Amelia followed more carefully, though her smile was no less genuine. “Uncle Nathaniel, we did not know you had come.”
Nathaniel rose at once and opened his arms. “My beloved conspirators. I arrived in secrecy and splendor.”
Marjorie collided with him first. “We have something to show you.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“No,” Amelia replied.
“Yes,” Marjorie answered at the same time.
Benedict stood. “Marjorie.”
“It is not very dangerous.”
Nathaniel looked delighted. “My favorite degree.”
Amelia took his hand with quiet insistence. “It is only a drawing. Marjorie says it is a map.”
“It is a map,” Marjorie confirmed. “Of the garden. With all the best hiding places.”
“And the places Uncle Benedict must not know about,” Amelia added, then immediately looked guilty.
Benedict raised a brow. Marjorie gave her sister a betrayed look. “Amelia.”
Nathaniel laughed, bright and warm, filling the stern study with sound. “Come, then. I must inspect this treason at once.”
The twins each took one of his hands and began pulling him toward the door. Nathaniel allowed himself to be dragged with theatrical helplessness. At the threshold, he looked back at Benedict.
“We shall continue this later. I have not yet finished being appalled.”
“I shall endeavor to survive the anticipation.”
“Please do. And Benedict?” Nathaniel’s smile softened. “Don’t make a marriage only out of fear. Not even fear for those two.”
Before Benedict could answer, Marjorie tugged him away.
“Uncle Nathaniel, you are walking too slowly.”
“My apologies. I had not realized I was escorting royalty.”
“You are escorting explorers,” she corrected.
“Far more demanding.”
Their voices faded down the corridor, Nathaniel’s laughter mingling with Marjorie’s chatter and Amelia’s gentler corrections.
He turned toward the window. Beyond the glass, Rivermere lay ordered, green, and sunlit. Somewhere within it, two little girls were showing his oldest friend a map of secrets. Tomorrow, Miss Norton would come to see the house. Benedict told himself it was all for the girls.
It was a true statement.
He was increasingly uncertain whether it was the whole truth.