“That is not what a finder’s fee is,” Lady Arabella insisted.
“I’m not aware of a term that means ‘the fee one earns from waiting around for your friend’s prize because he wants to go make eyes at a pretty girl far away from this sweat-soaked shack.’ Have you a better suggestion?”
“Ten percent is absurd. You may have an as-yet-unnamed favor,” Benedict offered, preventing more verbal bloodshed.
“Done,” West said. “Best get them both out of here before Bella’s neckline causes an unexpected brawl.”
“I told you?—”
Benedict grabbed his sister’s elbow, silencing her with a spin toward the door before catching Eliza’s lower back with his other palm. She handed the dregs of her drink to West as Benedict guided them out.
“Benedict—”
“Leave it, Bella. I don’t want to hear a single word out of you. Let’s go.”
He urged Eliza along until they spilled out a back entrance into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
“I hopeyou weren’t planning to hire a hack at this hour,” Bella said.
The moon was waning on the balmy, cloud-darkened evening.
“I said no talking, Bella.”
“The theater will let out soon—it will take hours.”
“Bella…” Benedict warned. Suddenly the entirety of his sister’s plan became clear. She was forcing his hand.
She would not find it sufficient to ruin Eliza by dragging her in the dead of night to his fight. Bella was orchestrating a visit to their house. Ascandalousvisit.
“She’s hardly a wilting flower, Ben. She can walk to the house. It’s not even a block.”
“I’m certain she can, but since we’re not returning to the house, it’s irrelevant,” he bit out between gritted teeth.
“Do I not get a say in this?” Eliza asked.
“Of course,” Bella said over Benedict’s “No.”
“No,” he said again. “We’re taking you home. Your father will have my head. If he’s unavailable, then one of your numerous uncles will.”
“There’s only two—well, three I suppose—four if you count Augie.”
“I count all of them, and that was not the point. Once they’re finished with me, it will be that dunner’s turn.” He gestured in an absurd circle to include all her invisible, too protective, relations. Her gaze caught on his bruises.
“Benedict, please. You’re hurt,” Eliza protested and reached for his cheek.
“Hardly,” he scoffed and pulled away from her searching touch, despite the pain it caused him to do so.
“Are you planning to march her through Mayfair in your sweat-soaked shirtsleeves? Bruised and bloody? While all the theatergoers pass by?” Bella asked, banging the final nail into his coffin.
“Ten minutes, no more.” His teeth gnashed together as he bit back a verbal thrashing for his sister.
Eliza’s nod was enthusiastic despite her concerned expression. Bella, possessing not a single scruple, offered him a wink. All the while, Benedict continued to grind his teeth.
The walk took mere minutes—not long enough for Benedict’s ire to cool, even as the soft breeze drew Eliza’s violet essence to him.
When they found themselves at the front door of the let house, the unease returned to Benedict’s chest.
