Page 11 of Lord of the Darkness

“Of course she fled,” said Lord Jasper, taking another swig from his flask. “But you wait until the night, when you and her father aren’t around, and then just see what she does. She’ll come running to me, like she did before—”

Benedict had heard enough. Blood pounding in his ears, he surged towards the man, intent on delivering him a facer after all. Lord Jasper was only saved by the timely intervention of Ariana’s father, who had flung open the front door and descended the stairs with a well-maintained duelling pistol in each hand. For a moment he stood there, wheezing, fighting the cough enough to speak, then he forced the words out grimly.

“I told you,” he said slowly, “never to darken the doors of this house again!”

He fired off a round into the wet grass at Lord Jasper’s feet.

“All right, I’m leaving!” said Lord Jasper, hands raised in surrender. He was already beating a hasty retreat towards the path to the river which marked the border of the property. “Don’t murder me if you know what’s good for you. You don’t want my blood on your conscience!”

“Don’t be so sure!” Lord Hazelworth called after him, though he lowered the pistol to his side with a look of grim satisfaction. “Idiot!”

“Does he do this often?” asked Benedict.

“Only when he thinks he can get away with it. He knows I haven’t been in the best of health, and that I don’t have the energy now to chase him all over the property. He ought to have been arrested years ago, as a nuisance to public order. Would have been, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s the son of a Marquess. Anyway.” Hazelworth turned to Benedict and his savage expression melted away in an instant. “Come inside, will you? You don’t need to be out here in this drizzle now that we’ve chased that nuisance off. I certainly don’t – bad for m’ cough, you know.”

Benedict followed him up the steps, annoyed by the tone in his voice. It sounded like Lord Hazelworth was blaming him for causing a scene by hanging back and defending his wife. Benedict would have argued the point, but Hazelworth was still holding the pistols, and he had already proven that he wouldn’t hesitate to use them.

The silence lasted until they reached Lord Hazelworth’s study.

***

“You keep saying it will get better eventually, but I don’t see how,” said Benedict. Lord Hazelworth had already warned him once to lower his voice, but he didn’t care who heard it. “Can you even conceive of the humiliations I suffered last night?”

“Having spoken to both you and Ariana, I think I have an idea,” said Hazelworth, absently smoking a cigar.

“I don’t think you really do!” Benedict cried. “In all my life I’ve never been as humiliated and rejected as I was last night — on my wedding night, of all nights! What’s the use of even getting married if my own wife is going to treat me like this?”

“Some might say it would be worth it, when you’re gaining another estate.”

They were talking in Hazelworth’s study, which was really more of a second sitting-room. Hazelworth was seated on a pale divan in front of the fire while Benedict paced near the windows, which were hung with crimson damask curtains, and through which a cold grey light was filtering into the room – the drizzle continued outside, making the day look as miserable as he felt.

Before Benedict could voice his caustic opinion of this latest suggestion, the door opened, and a maid entered the room carrying a tall pitcher of water, at the top of which floated several thin slices of lemon.

“Lemon water?” she asked, then added shyly, speaking to Lord Hazelworth, “Also, Lady Hazelworth wanted me to pass along a message.”

“What message is that?” Hazelworth sounded annoyed.

“She said to remind you that you aren’t supposed to be drinking. Physician’s orders.”

Hazelworth looked so furious that Benedict half expected him to throw his entire glass of madeira at her. But he said nothing to the maid, who quailed at his look, set down the pitcher, and left the room hurriedly.

“Now what were we talking about?”

Hazelworth was obviously intent on ignoring the entire concept of lemon water, despite whatever his physician might have said.

“I was trying to explain to you that Ariana obviously didn’t want to be married — certainly not to me, at least not yet, and maybe not ever. I keep trying to tell you this, but you don’t seem to be listening and I’m finding it incredibly frustrating.”

“Because I don’t see what there is to discuss.” Hazelworth took a long drag on his cigar with a look of enjoyment which was probably heightened by his wife’s disapproval. “We both got what we wanted — Ariana’s married and in time you’ll inherit the estate.”

“But Ariana!” Benedict had reached the end of his patience. “What about what Ariana wanted? Because it has become clear to me that it wasn’t this.”

“And like I told you before, she’ll get over it. She could have done a lot worse than marrying a man like you.”

“And I can’t help wondering whether you really have Ariana’s best interests at heart.”

Benedict knew from the moment that he said it that he had crossed an invisible line. Hazelworth glared at him coolly as though wanting to show him to the door.

“Be glad you’re my son-in-law,” he said in a voice of quiet menace. “Anyone else who spoke to me like that would be regretting it already.”