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Especially where Lady Madeline is concerned. They are that devoted. This means that if I have a concern, I will only be seen as devoted too. A week here had given me more confidence than before. I walk through the doors, and I make my way downstairs before I can stop myself.
"Miss Bell!"
Oh no. I turn to the sight of trouble. Benedict is leaning against the wall, casually resting his hand on the head of what I'm sure is a priceless statue that stands there.
"Yes, my lord," I say patiently, guarding my tone. Every time I run into him, he's bad news. From the grin on his face to the button-down shirt he's wearing, without a tie, collar loosely around his neck.
My eyes drag down the exposed skin for a moment before I catch myself.
"I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed for our little adventure tomorrow," he says.
Fuck. I need to look at my schedule to see if anything has been added. Obviously, Maddie's mini-vacation from classes includes Lord Benedict.
He takes a few steps towards me, and I'm tempted to back up but stand my ground. I lift my chin and settle my shoulders as imperceptibly as I can. I don't want to challenge him, but I do want to set a boundary.
"I haven't been given a packing list, but I'm sure Mrs. Harris will have one to me before the end of the night," I say, covering my ass neatly from not knowing what the hell is going on, and I can only hope I sound and look professional.
Like someone who knows what she's doing. Not someone who's watching her boss's brother approach her, one step after languid step like he's a predator stalking prey, and the prey is finding it very hard to think. His gaze is hungry.
Why he's looking at me like that is anyone's guess. I try not to shrink my shoulders into my neck.
"I'm taking Maddie into the city. There's a red carpet premiere of a children's movie coming up that I know she'll love." He's a few feet from me now, less than is proper, further away than I want him to be. He's not the kind of man who douses himself in cologne, but I've smelled it on him a few times, faint, and discreet. Like he only wants you to know it's there if you get close to him.
Like he wants that single scent to set off alarm bells that you're within his thrall, and you can't escape.
Right now, I can just catch a hint of it, teasing at deep forests, a little hint of cedar, a bit of leather. Even that small whisp of it has shivers running along my skin. It threatens to fill my lungs, and I try not to breathe.
His eyes hold mine, and my tongue feels stuck to the roof of my mouth.
"That's… very good, sir, I mean, my lord," I correct myself quickly. I'm having trouble thinking, apparently, and he's distracting.
His smile widens, as if he knows. It's not right to think vile thoughts of your employer, but right now all I can think is:
Shit-disturber.
Fucker.
Fuck-able.
Fuck.
"Excellent," he says, grinning wide. "We'll have a good time. You can even meet a few of my friends, instead of the boring dead-woods my brother is always hosting." He jerks his head toward the end of the hall, where the main sitting room is that I've been in the last through nights, watching the duke host and hold a miniature court while Madeline reads her books to me.
This is something new, though. A familial outing, and one where it sounds like the marquis is going to want me to be less than invisible. And—
"You said red carpet," I blurt out. "Like, press, and cameras?"Of course that's what it means, idiot.I've got that spacey feeling like my soul's about to exit my body.
Benedict laughs and runs a hand through the back of his hair, making it even more impossibly tousled. But it's attractive. If I did that, I'd look like I'd had fifty-five kittens playing in my hair all night. He pulls it off.
It's more than a little unfair.
"Yeah, there's a bit of that. I'll do it with Maddie if she wants to, although brother-dearest gets pissy when Mads gets in front of the camera," he drawls. "You won't be on the gauntlet if that's what's worrying you."
"It's just a lot of people," I say, by way of excuse, and wait. He takes it at face value.
"You'll need to get used to it if you stick around," he says and then steps away, as a maid walks down the corridor and her footsteps echo. He puts enough space between us that it's proper again, something that confuses me. He has no problem skirting the line in front of the duke, but he cares about what a maid thinks?
"I'll check with Mrs. Harris before I go to bed tonight," I say, and that's the wrong word choice because his eyes glint, knowingly. The maid is close by now, passing us, and he gives me a lazy salute with two fingers.
