He definitely liked the way she said that. It was a great improvement on ‘Your Grace’. And he liked seeing her all flummoxed and pink too. ‘Of course it is...Amelia.’
Of its own volition, his left eye winked at her saucily. He had never winked at anyone or anything in his life, but it had the most wonderful effect on her. Her dark eyes widened, her lush mouth opened slightly in shock and the soft pink blush turned instantly into the most vivid shade of cerise. He was off to haul potatoes, another thing he had never done in his life, yet suddenly all he wanted to do was grin. He was flirting! Him! Now he understood why Uncle George was so keen on it. It was strangely empowering.
He lifted the first sack and nearly dropped it. He had not expected potatoes to be quite that heavy, butAmeliawas watching him, so he hoisted it with all of his might in the vain hope that he made it look effortless. Then he winked at her again and watched her scurry off, completely flustered. Her lovely hips swayed as she walked and Dolly caught him watching them.
‘Just friends, are you, lad? And I’m the Duchess of Devonshire!’ Then she winked at him and Bennett found himself blushing too.
The next few hours whipped by in a blur of activity. Bennett fetched and carried, was taught to peel vegetables by Dolly and was then put in charge of stirring the bubbling soup in three of the largest cauldrons he had ever seen. As it was hot work, Dolly insisted that he remove his coat, although he was almost certain that it was as much for her own benefit as for his. The old lady was blatantly ogling him as she stacked bowls with Amelia and shamelessly pumped her for information, not caring that he could hear or that her words were embarrassing her friend.
‘Where did you meet your Adonis, then?’
‘Um, at a meeting a few weeks ago.’
‘You always did have a weakness for do-gooders. What is he, then? A Revolutionary?’
Amelia’s pretty face was outraged at the suggestion and her eyes darted towards him briefly before she lowered her voice. ‘I don’t consort with Revolutionaries, Dolly. You know that. If you must know, it was a meeting about factory conditions. Do you know, at least one child a week is being killed by those machines?’
Dolly appeared unmoved. ‘You’re trying to change the subject. I want to talk about you and your fancy man.’
‘He’s not my fancy man!’
Dolly rolled her eyes and then grinned at Bennett. Despite his attempt to appear as though he was not listening, he found himself smiling back at the woman. It was nice to watch somebody else feel uncomfortable for a change, and his aunt’s companion was certainly that. Every time he caught her staring at him she blushed like a beetroot and then pretended she had not been looking at him at all. His ego told him that she was casting him admiring glances. The truth was probably nothing quite so exciting.
He could hardly blame her for checking up on him. Her friends would judge her on the strength of his work. Thanks to Charlie, he now knew that the intrepid Miss Mansfield had first come here half-starved and penniless. Dolly had taken her under her wing and helped her find work, and since then she had continued to work here at the soup kitchen whenever she was able. To look at her now, the way she moved around with such purpose and the way everyone else clearly respected her, it would be easy to presume that she belonged here. Such respect would have been hard-won, he knew. He caught Dolly watching him and turned back to his boiling soup and could have sworn that she deliberately spoke louder so that he did not miss her next words of wisdom.
‘There is no shame in wanting a bit of comfort from a strong, handsome man in the night, Ames, and he’s a strong, very handsome man.’
Amelia did not know where to look, although she was certain it would not be in the Duke’s direction. Heaven knew what he must be thinking. Later she would apologise for Dolly’s crassness. Right now, if she protested too much, Dolly would become unrelenting. ‘We share some of the same ideals,’ she finally managed, knowing that perhaps that statement was true. ‘But there is nothing else between us, I can assure you.’
‘That’s just a crying shame, then.’ Dolly unceremoniously dumped the last pile of bowls on the long wooden table. ‘It’s about time you got yourself a nice fella. I hate seeing you all on your own. If you ask me, you’re too independent for your own good. Not all men are rotters. I had some lovely ones in my time.’ She sighed wistfully and clutched her hands to her generous bosom. ‘My second husband, William, he was a lovely man to have around at night. So...vigorous.’
Amelia saw the Duke stifle a smile but decided to say nothing as any further discussion was likely to be a bit ripe. Dolly had no boundaries when it came to talking about her husbands. Fortunately, time was on her side.
‘Shall I open the doors, Dolly?’ shouted another volunteer from the other side of the room.
After that, it was all hands on deck. Amelia kept a close eye on her guest, fearing that he might find the reality of nigh on a hundred people swarming into the hall in search of a hot meal quite daunting; however, her concerns were unfounded. He coped brilliantly, spooning the nourishing soup into the municipal wooden bowls as if he had done such a menial task every single day of his life. As time went on, she saw him talking to people, a look of intense interest on his face sometimes and humour at others.
He spent a long time with the young family they had seen earlier, huddled in the doorway, listening intently and sympathising with their particular tale of woe. He ruffled their young son’s hair, seemingly oblivious to the crawling nasties that undoubtedly lived within it, and crouched down to eye level with their pale and emaciated daughter, telling her some tale that nudged a reluctant smile out of the girl. All the while, Amelia watched for his superior stiffness to return to his body. At no point did he turn back into the pompous Duke, which bothered her immensely, although she could not quite put her finger on why.
When she saw him rush to help an old man who stumbled, watched him guide him to a bench and fetch him a bowl of soup personally, she realised why. As the Duke, he was easier to resist. Her heart was hardened against all men with titles and power. But here, in those ordinary clothes, he was just Ben. And she had no ready-made defences prepared to repel the torrent of tender feelings that were rapidly growing for this complicated and surprising man. One minute so stiff and formal, the next thoughtful and kind. A stickler for timekeeping and correctness who would risk his own safety to save her, who shared his horse and his home, but wrote a silly book about the perfect wife. He knew about coal mines and came to slums to see things from another point of view, a man who hid in gardens because he felt awkward and knew about the stars. A lethal conundrum of a man who looked like sin and kissed like it too.
When he shared a joke with the old man, then sat next to him to listen to his stories, her heart melted. As if he felt her staring at him, he looked her way. The ghost of a smile touched his lips and those intense silver-blue eyes told her that he finally understood what it was about this place that drew her.
Understood and approved.
In shock, she ladled hot soup over her hand and then hissed in pain. Dolly instantly doused the stinging flesh with cold water from her jug and then tutted. ‘Just a friend, is he? You were looking at him as if the sun rises and sets with him.’
‘I was simply distracted,’ she said defensively although her heart was pounding in panic. Amelia felt a lump of pure emotion form in her chest, part wonder, part longing, and realised that she might have done something wholly unexpected and terrifying.
She might have just fallen head over heels for an aristocrat.
Chapter Nineteen
Whilst it is acceptable for a lady to drink ratafia occasionally, stay away from women who partake of other spirits. They cannot be trusted...
Bennett galloped on ahead of the carriages bound for Aveley Castle as soon as they left London, largely because they constricted him and because he did not want to keep trying to catch glimpses of her. Right now, he needed to be alone. Up until recently, he had taken fresh air for granted, but after a day in the slums he vowed that he never would again. Clean air, open roads, trees, albeit bare because of winter, suddenly all felt like such a tremendous luxury that he was very privileged to be able to enjoy.
Such luxuries were non-existent in the slums. He had struggled to sleep since his trip to Seven Dials. It had been an eye-opening experience and one that, if he was brutally honest with himself, had brought him up short. In many ways it was almost too much to take in. Squalor. Hunger. Homelessness. Indignity and injustice. And all just a few miles from Parliament, the only institution with the power to change it. For two nights he had tossed and turned, trying to understand it all and put it into perspective and deciding exactly what he could do to fix things; however, the more he thought about it all the angrier he became on behalf of the people there.
