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“He loves you very much. It is plain to see.”
“Perhaps now, but we were not in love when we married. That came later, after working toward happiness together, making the choice every day to learn about one another and make sacrifices. To not storm away and sleep in separate rooms when we’re angry, but communicate our grievances and kiss every night.”
My heart jumped at the thought of kissing a man every single night, and my traitorous mind developed an image of Benedict in that role. I shook my head to clear it, replacing it with the image of his easy flirtation at the assemblies with other women. I could never take him seriously. It had been the same way when I first came to Chelton all those years ago. I took his flirtation to mean more than it did, developed feelings for the man, and found him flirting the same way, saying the exact same thing to all the other girls that he had said to me.
Exactly like my father did to all the women in Sweden. Flirt and flirt until they slipped away together. It was repulsive.
“James is a good man,” I said. “But not all of them are so wholesome.”
“No, I agree, they are not. I have heard tales of rakes and rogues aplenty in London, but I do not think we face many cads here in Bakewell.”
“Except for the one living in Chelton, you mean?”
She looked at me sharply. “Who—oh, you mean Benedict, do you not? I would not classify the man as a cad, and certainly not as a rake.”
“A rogue, then.”
“No, not even that.” Her light copper eyebrows screwed together. “Has he done something awful to earn such a low opinion from you? I admit, when I heard the two of you did not get along, I did not realize the extent of your dislike for one another.”
She had it wrong. It was not that I disliked the man—I did nottrusthim or believe him to be sincere. “I like Benedict well enough. He is always up for a lark, as vexing as he is. And he makes a perfectly amiable riding partner.”
Felicity waited, folding her hands gently over the book in her lap.
“But he is extremely self-concerned,” I continued, “and one can never take him at his word. He is a tease, and he flirts with all women the same. Like the woman last night. The one in the silver gown?”
“Miss Dodwell, I believe. She is the Dodwells’ niece.”
I covered my surprise. I knew her, though not well. I certainly had not recognized her last night. “Yes. Miss Dodwell. He treated her as though . . . as though they had some sort of understanding. Smiling at her all evening, dancingtwo setstogether. He must see that the remainder of Society in that room was thinking the same as I.”
“Likely so, yes.”
“Which is simply—” I turned to face Felicity. She’d agreed with me? “You think he acted inappropriately as well?”
“I would not say so, not exactly. I do not think there is an agreement between the couple yet, but that does not mean his actions were too far outside the bounds of propriety. He cares far too much for his mother’s opinion to stain the family name.”
Yet? She had said there was no agreement between the coupleyet.The stone bench seemed to fall out from under me, and I focused on the sheep dotting the far hillside, moving slowly as they grazed, while I pulled apart this thought. Benedict, willing enough to be considered courting a woman to dance with her twice. Benedict, willing to be married? The idea was shocking.
“I assumed Henry would marry next,” I said weakly.
“In order to do that he would have to meet a woman, and he cannot meet a woman unless he leaves the house.” She looked troubled. “I was hoping to convince him to join us in London for the Season, but thus far he has put off the notion.”
“Perhaps if we promise him a multitude of new books, he would agree.”
Felicity’s eyes danced. “You actually might be onto something. I believe he hasn’t visited Town in ages. Shall we discuss the Elgin marbles and the things to behold at the British Museum within his hearing? Surely we can entice him with talk of Hatchards and all the new books he could purchase were he to go, or the history to be admired.”
“Or a stop at Cambridge or Oxford for intelligent conversation on the way to Town.”
“I think we would lose him there if that was our goal,” Felicity said.
“Perhaps the man needs to be lost there for a little while.” I pulled my pelisse more firmly around me to ward off the chill a bit longer, but my ears and the tip of my nose were already colder than the stone beneath me. “I want to thank you for agreeing to be my chaperone. I would rather find another position in the kitchens of a grand estate than stay for any length of time under Lord Claverley’s care.”
Felicity gave a small shiver, her cheeks pinking from the cold. “I’ve yet to form an opinion of Lord Claverley. He has been polite to me, but a bit intimidating.”
“Men like that cannot intimidate me,” I said. “I will not allow it. It is their goal, I believe, and nothing brings me more pleasure than to prove how little effect they have on me.”
“Surely he must have some effect, or you would not have gone to such extreme measures to avoid him.”
I looked at her sharply. “I did not find them extreme. My attempts to make a life of my own were pitiful, I suppose, but they were genuine. I do not expect to find a husband in London’s ballrooms, but my foray into servitude did prove how deeply I appreciate a life of relative ease. A feather mattress, for example, or hands that do not crack and bleed.”
