Page 113 of A Duchess for his Family

“No.” The answer came too quickly.

Benedict closed his eyes for one brief moment.

“That,” he explained quietly, “is rather the difficulty.”

Nathaniel did not laugh this time. Benedict set the glass down. He wished, absurdly, that Nathaniel would make another foolish remark, something about noses, counting, or the collapse of civilization. Benedict knew how to defend himself against mockery. Concern was far more dangerous.

Nathaniel leaned back slowly. “Tell me.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“You kissed her and spent the next morning hiding in your study.”

“I am not hiding.” Benedict rubbed one hand slowly across his jaw.

Nathaniel watched him for another moment. “I take it this is not about the kiss.”

Benedict’s hand stilled.

“No,” he admitted. “The marriage had terms.”

Nathaniel said nothing.

“It was an arrangement. We both understood that.”

“Yes.”

“Sophia wished it to remain a marriage in name only.”

“I remember.”

“And I agreed.”

Nathaniel’s expression had gone completely still. Benedict stared into the fire. The flames moved over the coal in low orange folds, consuming it carefully, steadily, without haste. He understood such things. Fire required boundaries, a grate, stone, and distance from anything that might catch fire. Without them, warmth became destruction.

“Feelings were never supposed to become part of the arrangement,” he echoed.

Nathaniel’s brow tightened faintly.

“That was the rule.”

“Was it?”

Benedict looked at him.

Nathaniel lifted one hand. “I am not disputing what you agreed. I merely do not recall either of you signing a declaration promising never to feel anything.”

Benedict frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Then do not deliberately misunderstand me.”

“I am trying not to.”

Benedict turned away again. The trouble was that the room contained too many reminders of her now. There was a volume Sophia left upon the side table two days earlier, with a small sprig of lavender pressed between its pages because Amelia insisted they preserve it.

Benedict noticed it because he noticed everything belonging to her. That was another problem, these small things. She altered rooms through accumulation.