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“Mariah delights you with her feistiness, amuses with her creativeness, intrigues with her stubbornness, and reels you in with her genuine beauty,” Lady Catherine said. “Mariah’s courage, respect, personality, and kindness have drawn you in. Admit it or not, but she is your perfect woman. Strong enough to handle a Norton male. Should times be different, and circumstances not, thus, you would be storming her gates to seduce and marry the chit.”
“Not so!” Benedict denied immediately.
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow and stared at him.
“Only when you can admit those feelings to yourself will you recognise the truth. For now, I shall let you dwell in denial! But please remember, I know you as well as I knew my children! And you are all stubborn Norton males!”
Benedict winced as Lady Catherine faded. Lady Catherine’s sons had been hellions. They even made his siblings look tame and boring. To be compared to the twins Lady Catherine had birthed was an insult and compliment.
He carefully picked up the pendant she’d left on the bed and stared at it. Whatever thoughts raced through his mind, one was prevalent. This could protect and save Mariah’s life. As aggravating as she was, Mariah didn’t deserve the death he or Vemis could offer her. It would not be kind or painless but would hold horror and agony. No, Benedict wouldn’t let that happen to her.
He walked back to the bar and stopped dead. Mariah stood talking to three men in Georgian clothing. A groan slipped from his lips, and everyone turned to face him. Delight rushed across two of the men’s faces as they took in his attire, while the third merely raised an eyebrow.
“Begone!” Benedict roared, and the guys swapped glances.
“Get your sorry-looking arse over here, Norton, and talk. Before our wives take umbrage,” The Black Duke demanded. Benedict glowered at Tristian Russell, or Duke Monmouth as he was better known.
Hell had come to the Black Cat! Benedict decided.
Chapter Eight.
Mariah
To say Mariah was bemused to discover herself in the presence of a duke, marquess, and viscount was an understatement. Of course, she’d met Nicholas and the other Duke Harcourt, but the one they called Duke Monmouth was terrifying. He stood expressionless as he regarded Benedict and then herself before pulling out a chair and sitting down.
“Well, now, at least you are no longer purple, Sirrah,” Tristian spoke.
“Go to hell, Your Grace!” Benedict retorted.
“I honestly do not recall you being a popinjay and wearing such cheerful colours. Death clearly agrees with you!” Marquess Blackwood said, grinning.
“I shall throttle you, Harrington!” Benedict grunted. “Anything to add, Courtenay?”
“Not yet, but should I think of something, I’ll endeavour to inform you, Norton,” Viscount Ravenell drawled.
“I’m confused with all the names,” Mariah revealed, sitting down.
Benedict dragged her chair over to him. Amused smiles crossed the lips of the three watching men while Mariah regained her balance. Benedict stood behind her, and Mariah wondered what on earth was going on.
“It is relatively simple. Daniel Harrington is his given name. Marquess Blackwood is his title. St John Courtenay, Viscount Ravenell. Tristian Russell, Duke of Monmouth, or as he was also known, The Black Duke, due to his towering rages and air of disdain and superiority.” Benedict smirked.
Tristian raised an eyebrow.
“One cannot deny the truth,” he added, and a small smile crossed his lips.
“Which makes you?” Mariah asked, confused.
“I’m the son of an earl but not firstborn, so I am titled Honourable,” Benedict said.
“Which means he can’t call us by our initial names as we’re not friends. He refuses to call us by our titles apart from Tristian because insulting a duke is not a good thing, so he uses our surnames,” Daniel stated.
“But are you not all nobility?” Mariah asked.
“Yes, but Benedict is untitled and, therefore, not on our social level. Although he is a gentleman.” St John smiled at Benedict.
Benedict bristled, and Mariah looked up at him.
“Yes, a title only brings the illusion of nobility; it doesn’t mean to say one is noble and honourable!” Benedict shot back.
