required of him.
Boot heels clambering on the marble floor outside Ben’s
study announced his friend Viscount Ringley’s approach. Ben stiffened,
expecting a continuation of their rather loud discussion over breakfast.
“Rather pleasant out today, isn’t it?” Ringley stopped at
the desk and shuffled through the latest issue of The London Gazette that arrived in the morning post.
“I’m certain the breeze is as cold and damp as always.”
“No worse than the one indoors,” muttered Ringley. “Well
then, when do you leave?”
Ben spun around. “Leave? For where?”
“London, of course. That’s where you said Miss Seton is.
Didn’t you have some urgent news for your dear Aunt Granderson?”
“I have no such news, urgent or otherwise. What do you go on
about, man?”
Ringley sank into a chair and snapped the newspaper open.
“The reason for your trip to London.”
“I am not having this discussion.”
“No, it is much wiser to remain in the country and brood
like a lovesick swain than actually pay a call on the lady in question.”
“I am not lovesick,” Ben barked. When his words echoed off
the glass doors of the bookshelves, he ducked his head and scratched the back
of his neck. Ringley was quite accurate in his description, whether Ben wanted
to admit it or not. The brooding portion, not the lovesick claim. Ben hardly
knew what love looked like, much less how it felt. Never had the thought of
love arisen in those weeks Miss Seton spent at Three Gables. Nor would he call
his feelings for Miss Seton lust. “It’s this foul weather we’ve been suffering.
I miss the warmth of Spain.”
Chuckling, Ringley shook his head. “You may make all the
excuses you wish, but I believe your best remedy is a trip to London.”
“London? During the Season? Don’t be daft. I should no more
enjoy myself there than I do those soporific board meetings at Tilbury and
Company.” He left the window and sat before the pile of papers awaiting his
perusal.
“I shall join you there. We’ll spend some time in the clubs,
and you may find your Miss Seton and beg her to end your misery.”
“I might, if I were at all miserable. Or had I any interest
in a wife.”
“End my misery, then. Your manner is lacking.”
Ben snorted. “If you find my company dull, you are welcome
to depart at any time. No one is holding a knife to your throat.”
“Go now, when the plot is getting interesting? You jest.”
“There can be nothing interesting in watching me read
business letters. And I’d finish much sooner if you’d leave me to it.”
“I shall do so. Just as soon as you name the date for our
journey.”
Dropping the papers he’d been trying to read, Ben combed his
hair back with one hand. “If I agree to travel, will you allow me to finish my
business in peace?”
“Of course. The sooner you finish, the sooner we may away.”
Emitting what came awfully close to a growl, Ben went
against his better judgment. “If you’ll leave me to my work, I can be ready to
go by week’s end.”
Ringley’s chuckles echoed in the hallway as he sought his
entertainment elsewhere. Ben shook his head. Admittedly, a short stay in London
might relieve some of the tension that had taken residence in his shoulders
ever since he’d come to stay at Three Gables. He’d never been close to
Grandfather. The man’s cool demeanor didn’t encourage affection. But watching
the old man fade into his feather mattress had tugged at Ben’s gut, and
attempting to learn what was necessary to tend the running of the business left
him drained.
Miss Seton’s sweet voice had carried him through those weeks
when Sir Waldo lay dying. Perhaps just the sound of it was all he needed to
clear this gloom and focus on business again. Or perhaps he would find a
mistress in London to tend to his needs, and leave Miss Seton to her search for
a husband.
An image of her on the arm of another man filled his head
and he snarled. What if the man was a
Boot heels clambering on the marble floor outside Ben’s
study announced his friend Viscount Ringley’s approach. Ben stiffened,
expecting a continuation of their rather loud discussion over breakfast.
“Rather pleasant out today, isn’t it?” Ringley stopped at
the desk and shuffled through the latest issue of The London Gazette that arrived in the morning post.
“I’m certain the breeze is as cold and damp as always.”
“No worse than the one indoors,” muttered Ringley. “Well
then, when do you leave?”
Ben spun around. “Leave? For where?”
“London, of course. That’s where you said Miss Seton is.
Didn’t you have some urgent news for your dear Aunt Granderson?”
“I have no such news, urgent or otherwise. What do you go on
about, man?”
Ringley sank into a chair and snapped the newspaper open.
“The reason for your trip to London.”
“I am not having this discussion.”
“No, it is much wiser to remain in the country and brood
like a lovesick swain than actually pay a call on the lady in question.”
“I am not lovesick,” Ben barked. When his words echoed off
the glass doors of the bookshelves, he ducked his head and scratched the back
of his neck. Ringley was quite accurate in his description, whether Ben wanted
to admit it or not. The brooding portion, not the lovesick claim. Ben hardly
knew what love looked like, much less how it felt. Never had the thought of
love arisen in those weeks Miss Seton spent at Three Gables. Nor would he call
his feelings for Miss Seton lust. “It’s this foul weather we’ve been suffering.
I miss the warmth of Spain.”
Chuckling, Ringley shook his head. “You may make all the
excuses you wish, but I believe your best remedy is a trip to London.”
“London? During the Season? Don’t be daft. I should no more
enjoy myself there than I do those soporific board meetings at Tilbury and
Company.” He left the window and sat before the pile of papers awaiting his
perusal.
“I shall join you there. We’ll spend some time in the clubs,
and you may find your Miss Seton and beg her to end your misery.”
“I might, if I were at all miserable. Or had I any interest
in a wife.”
“End my misery, then. Your manner is lacking.”
Ben snorted. “If you find my company dull, you are welcome
to depart at any time. No one is holding a knife to your throat.”
“Go now, when the plot is getting interesting? You jest.”
“There can be nothing interesting in watching me read
business letters. And I’d finish much sooner if you’d leave me to it.”
“I shall do so. Just as soon as you name the date for our
journey.”
Dropping the papers he’d been trying to read, Ben combed his
hair back with one hand. “If I agree to travel, will you allow me to finish my
business in peace?”
“Of course. The sooner you finish, the sooner we may away.”
Emitting what came awfully close to a growl, Ben went
against his better judgment. “If you’ll leave me to my work, I can be ready to
go by week’s end.”
Ringley’s chuckles echoed in the hallway as he sought his
entertainment elsewhere. Ben shook his head. Admittedly, a short stay in London
might relieve some of the tension that had taken residence in his shoulders
ever since he’d come to stay at Three Gables. He’d never been close to
Grandfather. The man’s cool demeanor didn’t encourage affection. But watching
the old man fade into his feather mattress had tugged at Ben’s gut, and
attempting to learn what was necessary to tend the running of the business left
him drained.
Miss Seton’s sweet voice had carried him through those weeks
when Sir Waldo lay dying. Perhaps just the sound of it was all he needed to
clear this gloom and focus on business again. Or perhaps he would find a
mistress in London to tend to his needs, and leave Miss Seton to her search for
a husband.
An image of her on the arm of another man filled his head
and he snarled. What if the man was a
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