Page 58 of Waiting for Love

“Welcome.”

Mr. Boring bowed, spurring Benjamin to do so. When had he stopped remembering to perform the courtesy? He hurried to do introductions properly.

“My lord, may I present to you Mr. Nigel Boring?”

“Mr. Boring, thank you for your letter. Mr. Carroll explained your qualifications. And I had a letter from Viscount Haslet also. I’m sure we will work well together. Please, have a seat. I have a few questions, minor things. Then I will let you refresh yourself after your journey.” He glanced toward Benjamin. “Mr. Carroll, you may go to the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Taverston are there, quite desperate to introduce you to Arthur. There is tea as well.”

Benjamin nodded. He could hardly feel miffed at the dismissal given where he was being sent. He left Boring to his own devices.

As he made his way to the parlor, he realized yet again what a gift his position was. Jasper allowed him free run of Chaumbers. His first duty upon returning was not to give account of his activities in London, but rather to meet the earl’s nephew. Looking at the familiar paintings along the walls, hearing Taverston voices emanating from the parlor growing more distinct as he approached, he felt as though he were returning home. But of course, he was not. His home had been a gritty two-room dwelling in an area one step above the London stews, and his father had barely kept them in that.

He stood in the doorway. This was one of the family’s favorite rooms, and it was easy to see why. Gauzy drapes allowed sun through the window but never let anyone sitting in the wrong seat be blinded by glare. The furniture, in dark mahogany and forest-green damasks, all had a well-used appearance without being shabby. In the spring, the room was warm enough without a fire. A faint scent of the dowager’s Lily-of-the-Valley perfume always hung in the air.

He took in the scene. Reg and Georgiana on the davenport. Georgiana’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Hovington seated in the corner, sipping tea. Alice in the armchair nearby. Olivia, standing, laughing as she peered down at Arthur in her arms. Who was swaddled in so many layers that Benjamin could not see what amused her. But he could hear Arthur complaining in a high-pitched fussy whine.

“Benjamin! Come in!” Reg cried, rising from his seat. “Olivia, bring Arthur over so Benjamin can see him.”

Benjamin couldn’t help laughing. Reginald, the quietest of the brothers, was adept at under-his-breath witticisms, but had never been one to draw attention to himself. It seemed being a new father had changed that.

Benjamin’s amusement faded as Olivia came close.

She wore a faded chemise dress with spit-up on her shoulder. Her hair was half up and half down, as if pins had fallen out. But with that smile, full of joy and love and good humor, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. That smile and those blue eyes. That smile with those full lips, forbidden fruit that he’d tasted.

“Would you like to hold him?” she asked.

“I—I would.”

He held out his arms, and she settled Arthur into them. Unlike most unmarried men, he had no fear of babies. No fear he would drop them or that they would brand him an imposter with immediate wails. He had held Hannah when she was a baby. Not so small as this one, but every bit as helpless. His heart clenched.

The room grew very still. Arthur quieted.

“Oh!” the duchess breathed. “A miracle!”

And then Arthur burst into a full-throated squall.

Benjamin tried a few half-hearted bounces before delivering the boy to his mother. Georgiana stood. “He eats constantly,” she said with something of an apology as she took the baby from the room.

Reg sat down and gestured for him to do so also, but he waited for Olivia to sit first. His manners had not deteriorated to such an extent that he would sit while a lady stood.

“How was London?” Olivia asked, as nonchalant as if he had never behaved with rank impropriety toward her.

“The same. Terrible place in the dead of winter.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone.” There was just a hint of archness to her voice.

She sat beside Reg. Then she pushed back the loose lock of hair and grimaced as if she’d just realized what a mess it was. If it had been an attempt to flirt, she failed miserably. But she didn’t need to flirt to capture his heart.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.” His quiet earnestness struck the wrong chord. He felt an urge to clear his throat.

“Did you see much of Hazard?” Alice asked.

He turned to her gratefully. “Not much, no. Just the one meeting where he recommended Mr. Boring. Or, I suppose, Lord Chesterfield did.”

“Lord Chesterfield?” Reg said, frowning. “I know the name but can’t place it.”

Benjamin shrugged. He hadn’t consulted Debrett’s. He’d thought Chesterfield was just some minor lord who happened to be a good friend of Hazard’s.

Alice said, “Lord Chesterfield is the Earl of Gladnorshire.”