Enough. He tossed his pen into the inkwell and rang for his butler. Matthias appeared promptly, his expression as calm and implacable as ever.
“Your Grace?”
“What on earth is making that infernal noise?” Benedict scowled as the noise sounded again. “It is enough to drive a man mad.”
The butler frowned and then crossed to the window. A moment later, his face betrayed a flicker of exasperation before smoothing back into professional composure. “I believe you have… guests, Your Grace.”
“Guests? Not at the door?” Benedict scowled and pushed away from the desk to cross to the window, only to see his two friends throwing pebbles at his window. A moment later, he sighedand flung it open. “I might have known it would be you two reprobates. Stop that juvenile racket and come up like civilized gentlemen. Matthias will admit you.”
With that, he shut the window again. “Matthias, escort our guests inside, then see that we have some refreshments.”
The butler nodded and departed. Less than ten minutes later, the door opened to admit Benedict’s two closest companions—Sebastian Hargrove and Cassian Cavendish.
Cassian flashed him a roguish smile. “Harsh words, old chap, calling us reprobates.”
“And what else would you have me call you?” Benedict replied coolly. “When you intrude upon my work after I gave Matthias explicit instructions that I was not to be disturbed?”
Sebastian smirked. “I knew he was lying when he told us you were out.”
“He told you so because I commanded it,” Benedict returned, his scowl deepening. “Why, then, must you insist on forcing your way in—and with such juvenile theatrics?”
Cassian shook his head with feigned mournfulness. “Did you really think we would let you leave for your new estate without a proper farewell? That would be unconscionable.”
Sebastian’s grin sharpened as he crossed to the cabinet where Benedict kept his whiskey. He drew out a bottle of Benedict’s favored blend, along with three glasses, and poured a generous measure into each. Lifting his own, he declared, “To your new title. And to a future of prosperity and pleasure. Congratulations, old friend, on your ascension.”
Benedict allowed the faintest curl of his lip. “I assure you, there is nothing in it that merits celebration.”
Cassian blinked at him in surprise, easing himself into the nearest chair to take the weight off his bad leg. “Benedict… I know you pride yourself on stoicism, but truly, ascending to such social prominence is certainly cause for celebration.”
“Why?” Benedict’s grimace deepened. “I did nothing toearnthe title. My uncle died unexpectedly, and I happened to be his heir. There is no merit in inheriting what another man built.”
Cassian sighed. “Really, Benedict, not everything in life has to be earned. Being elevated to the position of a duke at your age is a worthy accomplishment.” He swallowed the contents of his glass in a single smooth motion and smiled at Benedict. “And I, for one, think we should go down to The Blue Parrot and celebrate in a manner befitting such stalwart gentlemen as ourselves.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Not I. I am a married man now. I have neither the liberty nor the desire for such pursuits.” He smiled, eyes bright with fondness. Benedict felt a soft pang in his chest at the sight of his friend’s happiness.
He had imagined such contentment for himself, of course. But the proper lady had not yet appeared, and now he was bound for his uncle’s country estate, with affairs to settle and obligations to shoulder. Such duties left little room for courtship—assuming, of course, he could even find a woman he deemed worth the effort.
Cassian sighed, adopting a look of exaggerated sorrow that Benedict knew was more playacting than sincerity. “Marriage does change a man. But never mind. Benedict and I can have enough fun for three.” He grinned roguishly.
“I think not,” Benedict said firmly. “I have no interest in the ladies of The Blue Parrot tonight, and no desire to waste the evening in carousing with your lot when I must endure a five-hour carriage ride tomorrow.”
Cassian threw his head back, rolling his eyes. “God help me, I have lost one friend to matrimony and one to duty. How am I to fill my nights when neither of you is willing to wile them away with me?” He turned with entreating eyes in Sebastian’s direction. “I suppose I cannot fault you for avoiding The Blue Parrot, but surely your wife does not object to your joining us for a mere drink?”
“She does not, but why would I spend a night with your two ugly mugs when I can have the pleasure of enjoying her beauty?” Sebastian quirked an eyebrow, and Benedict laughed at the falsely affronted expression on Cassian’s face.
“Traitors, both of you,” Cassian huffed, refilling their glasses. “I repeat myself. One friend lost to matrimony, the other to duty. Sebastian spends his days mooning over his wife, and you, Benedict, spend yours buried in your ledgers.”
“Someone must,” Benedict said dryly, taking a measured sip. His lips curved faintly. For all his earlier irritation, the company of his friends—however disruptive—had begun to ease him.
For a few moments, there was silence until Sebastian cast a glance over Benedict’s desk. “I say, is that… are you still working on that list of yours?”
He reached across to pick up a sheet of paper set aside from the official correspondence and documents Benedict had been working on. The paper was old and well-worn, creased from having been folded and unfolded several times. Benedict’s scowldarkened as he snatched the paper from Sebastian’s hand.
“That is none of your business.”
Cassian’s brow furrowed. “Benedict… surely you know that as a duke you have nothing left to prove anymore? Your uncle is dead and…”
Benedict folded the paper with deliberate precision and slipped it into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, his movements practiced from long habit.
