Page 9 of Unbound Duchess

The front door opened before them, and their first guests arrived. Ellen’s discomfort split in two. Not only was she forced into her least favorite pastime, but now she was being forced to ignore the longing to mourn her father’s death in peace. It left her with a sense of helplessness she was not used to. Meekly, she stopped trying to pull away from Benedict’s grip, and instead leaned on it as she was forced to greet their guests.

“Oh, you poor, sweet girl,” a lady cooed, coming forward to take Ellen’s hands. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Ellen did not recognize her, but she forced her best smile as she felt Benedict’s subtle push for her to accept her condolences.

“Thank you,” she answered politely, letting the lady squeeze her hands and kiss her cheeks as if they were old friends.

“At least you have Benedict here to rely on,” her male companion stated, nodding toward Benedict in respect. “I am sure he has been a great comfort to you.”

“I have promised to take care of her now that her father is gone,” Benedict stated before Ellen could fathom her own reply. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

Despite the twisting in her gut, Ellen forced a small smile. Such discomfort continued as they went on greeting their guests. She did not recognize any of the guests’ faces, Benedict made no move to make introductions, and Ellen felt her spirits sinking lower with every interaction. Finally, just when she felt as if she could not hold back her despair anymore, a gentleman called for Benedict’s attention.

“Stay right here,” Benedict commanded as he grabbed her shoulders and pressed her back against the wall. “I will return to you shortly.”

Ellen nodded, more than relieved that she would finally be free of his presence—even if it was just for a moment. She let herself sink into the wall the moment he left her side, and in doing so, it seemed to render her as invisible as she had been long ago when she’d made her short attempt at being on the marriage mart. Not that she minded. In fact, she preferred it to the teasing that often took place when someone took note of her.

“This is so inappropriate, do you not think?” Ellen heard a nearby lady whisper.

She pricked her ears to the conversation as she clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

“So very inappropriate,” another whispered back. “They should be in mourning, wearing mourning blacks. Or at least Ellen should. No respect at all.”

“Such a shame.”

“Yes, such a shame. Though she was always odd.”

“Was she?”

“Well, I assume so. She used to attend balls and such when she was younger, but she’d always find her way to the wall. Could not take our teasing. Such a serious girl.”

“Serious?” someone scoffed. “Yet she chooses now of all moments to host a party? No. She is not serious. She is a fool.”

Ellen’s eyes and throat burned as she willed her cries into silence. She had been serious. When it came to caring for her father’s household, she was as formidable as any of the gentlemen gathered around her. Now, though, pressed against a wall in her own home, hearing the whispers of the people she despised, she did indeed feel like the fool.

“He boasts of making riches on his own, but from my research, no one of note seems to hold investments or partnerships with him. So where would such riches come from?” Solomon whispered at Laurence’s side.

Laurence’s eyes were fixed on the man in question, distaste twisting in his gut. He was far nicer looking than he’d predicted. Tall. Blond. Blue-eyed, and with a build almost as firm as Laurence’s. He had his own money and his looks, so why would he need women sold at auction to bolster his ego? Even now, with their husbands at their sides, the other ladies were eyeing Benedict up like he was a treat they so desperately wanted.

It disgusted him.

Laurence’s eyes stayed on Benedict even as the man made his way out of the dining room, and it was only when he was out of sight that Laurence turned to Solomon.

“If he is one of the operators of the auction, that could explain his mystery riches,” Laurence murmured.

“That is what I suspect as well,” Solomon said in agreement. “And it is why we have to go to the auction to see for ourselves. If we can find him there, we will have more proof that he is involved. We can corner him, force him to speak with us and find out who else is responsible.”

“This house,” Laurence said, glancing around the dining room, “You said he moved here already?”

Solomon nodded.

“The very night the late Earl of Highcastle passed away, I had heard,” Solomon replied.

“Which means he has an office here,” Laurence said, scanning the two doorways that led in and out of the large room, and wondering which one would lead him to the room he needed. “Accounting books, missives… There has to be some proof of his involvement that we can use later.”

“I can go and look,” Solomon offered. “It was you and Madalene who received the invitation. I doubt anyone will notice my absence if I slip out now.”

“No,” Laurence said quickly, shifting his gaze to his little sister. She appeared comfortable enough as she chatted with a small group of ladies. Still, Laurence wanted her away from the house. Away from Benedict.