Chapter 15 #3
"Not at all, Lady Amelia." Benjamin's tone remained steady. "Ashcombe is a small place — a few hundred souls, perhaps a thousand — and you are quite right to be cautious of who arrives here uninvited."
"Then you understand why I ask the question," the Baron said.
"Of course. But I gave my word to protect the name of the man who left it to me.
I owe him that much." He met the Baron's eyes directly.
"What I can tell you is that I acquired it lawfully, and that whatever sins belong to that place, they are not my own — even if the world may be slow to make that distinction. "
"I understand." The Baron inclined his head, satisfied enough with the answer to let it stand for now. "And might I ask your occupation, Mr. Sterling?"
Before Benjamin could answer, Mrs. Miller set down her glass with a decisive click.
"We are going to need a great deal more wine tonight, I think."
The table broke into laughter, the tension of the moment dissolving with it.
"You are more frightening than my father, Mrs. Miller," Amelia said, smiling despite herself. "I admire your courage."
"You may find me at the inn, my lady, whenever you like — for as long as I am there. I could teach you a thing or two about handling men who believe the whole of life is power, money, and reputation."
"I shall certainly visit."
"That," the Baron said dryly, "would be the ruin of me entirely."
More laughter, and into it, quite deliberately, Benjamin spoke again.
"Lord Whitfield. To answer your earlier question — I was in the army. And to answer the one before it, more directly than I did — the previous owner of Russell Hall was a man who had once served in the same camp I did."
The Baron's amusement faded, his attention sharpening at the sudden return to the subject he had allowed to be set aside.
"That is interesting," he said slowly. "And dangerous, if I may say so. A great many people will want to know more about that connection. You have painted a target on your own back, purchasing that particular estate."
"I am accustomed to it by now." Benjamin's voice did not waver. "I was taught never to shy from danger, because my country — and my brothers beside me — would pay the price of my cowardice if I did."
The Baron nodded slowly, something like respect settling into his expression.
"See?" Mrs. Miller said to Amelia, not troubling to lower her voice. "Everything, always, is power, reputation, and honor with men like this."
Amelia smiled faintly, and then turned to Benjamin, choosing her words with visible care.
"I was given a piece of advice recently," she said.
"I will paraphrase it, but the meaning was that too much honesty can be a person's undoing.
I have thought on it since, and I believe it is only partly true.
" She held his gaze, willing him to understand what she was actually asking. "What do you think, Mr. Sterling?"
Benjamin was quiet a moment.
"No," he said finally. "I do not believe that is true at all.
It is not honesty that undoes a man. It is being deceived by those who exploit his honesty for their own ends.
That is a matter of misplaced trust, not of honesty itself.
" He set down his fork. "We were taught to fight honorably — honestly — and to win without ever needing to sacrifice what we believed in, even when it cost us far more time and effort than deception would have. "
Amelia's brow furrowed, uncertain what he intended.
"You speak like a scholar at times, Mr. Sterling," the Baron said, genuinely impressed.
Amelia was still watching Benjamin's face, searching it, unsure what was coming — and then he looked at her, and nodded once, small and certain, and rose from his chair.
"Lord Whitfield." His voice had gone quiet, but there was nothing uncertain in it. "I believe this dinner has reached its natural end."
The Baron blinked. "But we have not even eaten yet. Have I offended you in some way, Mr. Sterling?"
"On the contrary. You have been a warm and excellent host." Benjamin's hands rested lightly on the back of his chair. "It is I who have offended you — from the moment I first crossed your threshold and gave you my name."
"I confess I do not follow you."
Benjamin extended his hand across the table.
"You ought to know precisely who you are welcoming into your home, and what his intentions truly are.
I lied to you, my lord. I never wished to cause you harm by it, but a lie is a lie regardless of the reason behind it.
" He drew a breath. "My name is Benjamin Russell.
I am the son of the executed Duke and Duchess of Beaumont. "
The table went utterly still.
"I do not deserve your kindness tonight, or your table," Benjamin said quietly, into the silence. "That is why I must go. I hope you will invite me again, my lord — but the next time, you will know exactly who is walking through your door."
He turned, offered his arm to Mrs. Miller, and the two of them left the hall together, the door closing softly behind them while the Baron and his daughter sat, unmoving, in the wake of what had just been said.