“You near knocked a man clean out—but the strangest part is where you hit him.”
“Yes, I was at Wayland’s,” Benedict supplied.
“Now why the devil would you be there?”
“I’ve a… project for Father,” he said.
West’s eyebrows found his hairline. “And you figure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” Benedict muttered with a weak chuckle. “But it’s the only idea I have.”
“And it has to do with the Wayland girls?”
“You seem to know everything.”
“Wretched gossipmongers,” West said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder at the other men occupying the saloon. “Every last one of them.”
“The less you know, the better. Did you hear anything else?”
“Are you courting the girl?”
“Christ, did they tell you how long my cock is too?”
“No, I already know it’s minuscule.”
“Funny,” Benedict retorted, refusing to rise to the bait. “No one has been here… asking about me?”
“Should they be?”
“It’s… possible. I didn’t share this particular income source with Wayland. But I can’t imagine it will remain a secret forever.”
“Certainly not. And how will I be answering their questions?”
“Truthfully, and with as little information as possible.”
“Ben…”
Benedict hinged his head back to stare briefly at the ceiling. “At present, I am courting Miss Eliza Wayland.”
“And in the future?”
“You do not know where I am. You have no way of guessing where I might go.”
West’s clear, blue eyes narrowed. “Are you in trouble?”
“Not yet.”
He sighed, then caught Benedict around the elbow and hauled him deeper into a corner. West peered behind Benedict to confirm no one was near enough to listen.
“You had best not tell me you mean to seduce that girl and hurt her.”
Bile rose up Benedict’s throat, and he swallowed it. “Alright, I won’t.”
West’s expression softened, something like pity crossing his angular face as a divot formed between his brows. “Don’t do this. Don’t let your father turn you into this.”
“I’m in no need of a lecture.”
“Well,someonehas to talk some sense into you, and we both know it won’t be Bella.”
