Elias almost smiled at the merest hint of rebuke in the gruff man’s voice. “Yes, I am early,” he admitted as he handed over his hat and gloves. “I do hope Her Grace will forgive me.”
The butler’s expression remained unchanged. He merely responded, “Your bag, my lord?”
Elias tucked the satchel under his arm. “I shall keep this with me, thank you.”
The door to their immediate left popped open, revealing a lovely young woman with an even more furious scowl than the butler. She huffed an errant ebony curl out of her eyes while shuffling through an armload of books and papers. “Gransdon, are you quite certain all the trunks have been placed in the proper rooms? I am missing at least three ledgers that are most important.”
“I will check again,Miss Bening.” The butler cleared his throat as if trying to warn the lady they had company.
The exquisite beauty’s head jerked up, and her pale, green-eyed gaze homed in on Elias. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said with a hurried curtsy. “I was not aware of the time.” Her eyes narrowed as though she couldn’t decide whether to welcome him or have Gransdon escort him out. “Lord Raines, I presume? Her Grace mentioned she had sent for you.”
“Yes, Lord Elias Raines at your service, Miss Bening.”
What a breathtaking woman she was with her tousled curls of gleaming black framing her high cheekbones. And the unusual shade of her eyes—a pale yet brilliant green, like those of a fierce kitten sizing him up as prey. From the butler’s manner toward her, this woman was no servant.
Elias politely tipped his head, determined to become better acquainted with the delightful Miss Bening. “Forgive me for calling before three.”
She responded with a slight humming noise that reminded him of a soft growl and piqued his interest even more. Then she gifted him with a polite yet detached smile. “You will find Her Grace very forgiving,” she said. “If you would be so kind as to follow Gransdon down to the parlor, I shall let Her Grace know you are here.”
“Thank you, Miss Bening.” Elias found himself entranced, watching her glide up the stairs with the fluid grace of a hawk soaring into the heavens. Her muslin gown, a soft green that brought out her eyes, swirled around her, offering a teasing glimpse of her tempting curves.
Gransdon cleared his throat twice. When Elias turned his way, the butler directed him to follow down the hallway to a set of double doors on the right. “The parlor, my lord.”
“Thank you.” Elias strolled through the doors, taking in the room’s tasteful opulence. The furnishings whispered of elegance in gentle mauves and delicate blue and green florals. Small, round mahogany tables adorned with petite vases of flowers were situated among the perfect number of chairs and sofas. Not too cluttered nor too sparse. Rich draperies of the deepest burgundy framed the wall of windows, and the panes between were shielded with sheer lace panels to assure a modicum of privacy. A decidedly feminine room. As a duchess’s parlor should be.
Elias caught the butler before he exited. “Gransdon—is His Grace in today?”
The man’s jaw flexed, as though hardening at the impertinence of the question. “We do not expect His Grace today, my lord.” With a proper bow, he retreated and closed the double doors behind him before Elias could ask anything more.
“Not expectedtoday?” Elias repeated under his breath, frustrated at the subtle insinuation that perhaps they did not expect His Grace’s arrival ever. He scowled at the doors, willing them to provide more information. Surely, the duke had not allowed his mother and sister to travel unprotected all the way from Germany. Perhaps the man had seen them settled in at the townhouse, then gone to the club to update himself about London. Yes, that had to be the case.
The double doors opened once more, and Elias almost forgot his manners. With a delayed start, he stood and offered a proper bow. “Your Grace.” The elderly dowager he had expected did not exist. The Duchess of Hasterton was a regal beauty. Older, yes, but still the sort of woman that made a man take a second and even a third glance.
“Lord Raines.” She kindly directed him to a different chair. “Thank you so much for responding to my request so promptly. I know we are not your only client.” She gracefully motioned for Miss Bening to come closer. “I understand you have already met my Celia—Miss Celia Bening. She is my delightful companion on this visit to London.”
Companion? Elias politely smiled while sorting through the whirlwind of inferences clamoring in his head. He offered a less dramatic nod to Miss Bening. “Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her earlier,” he said, while noting that the resemblance between the two women was remarkable. Then he remembered thatBeningManor was Her Grace’s family home in Germany. Perhaps Miss Bening was not only a companion but a relation. Odd, since according to all the information in his files, the Hasterton/Bening line had all but died out. The duke, the dowager, and the duke’s sister were the sole living members of the two families.
“Lord Raines?” Miss Bening said, her louder tone tinged with a hint of irritation.
“I beg your pardon.” Elias bowed to them both again, then settled into his chair. While he had stood there sorting through this puzzlement like a foolhardy schoolboy, both ladies had seated themselves. “Do forgive me, but the two of you share quite a lovely resemblance.” He tried to soften his boldness with a laugh as he turned to the duchess. “I recall Bening was your family name before marriage, Your Grace. Is Miss Bening a long-lost cousin, perhaps?”
“You, my lord, are very impertinent,” Miss Bening interjected before the dowager could answer. “It is truly a pity our trusted Master Hodgely is not still with us.”
“Celia!” The dowager lightly patted her foot in Miss Bening’s direction before turning to Elias with an indulgent, albeit somewhat weary, smile. “Do forgive her, my lord. We only arrived in London late yesterday, and I fear my dear Miss Bening does not travel well at all.”
“Think nothing of it, Your Grace.” Elias stored away the lovely Celia’s reaction for further rumination later. “Miss Bening is quite right. My rudeness is inexcusable, and I assure you it will not happen again.” He returned Her Grace’s indulgent smile, then also offered one to Miss Bening. “I too wish Master Hodgely was still with us. He was not only my mentor, but much like a father to me. He is greatly missed.”
The duchess hitched in a sharp sniff, then bowed her head as though struggling for composure. “Raymond was a dear friend. News of his passing brought us great sorrow.”
“Indeed.” Elias bowed his head out of respect for his mentor. After allowing a quiet moment, he glanced over at the satchel he had placed in another chair. “I took the liberty of bringing your files today. I thought His Grace might like to review them once I attended to the matters for which you invited me.”
“His Grace is still abroad,” Miss Bening said a little too curtly. “And Lady Cecilia remained in Germany as well. Unfortunately, her health is even more fragile than Her Grace’s.”
Elias sensed Miss Bening did not like him at all and was also hiding something. Something important. He prided himself on his ability to read a person and figure them out—discover the truths they didn’t wish to share. Master Hodgely had often remarked that that was one of Elias’s most exemplary talents. He looked forward to discovering therealMiss Bening.
“I am truly sorry to hear of Lady Cecilia’s poor health,” he politely responded. He would make no more remarks of a personal nature until he had completed further research on this unusual situation. He turned to the dowager. “How can I be of service to Your Grace?”
“I require a last will and testament. Immediately.”
