He groaned and crossed his chamber in five strides to wash up and get dressed.She might return to me today.
When Stephen arrived, he helped Ben choose a midnight blue velvet doublet with a white shirt beneath and black hose and boots. His old friend tied his cravat in a triple knot while his dressers combed his hair back at his nape.
With a great sigh and a terrible, nagging voice in his head telling him she was gone.
“What will I do if she doesn’t return?”
Stephen looked up at him while they stepped out into the hall.
“I can do nothing!” Ben let out. It was more of a soulful lament than a shout.
“She will return to you, my lord.”
“I don’t think her father will allow it.”
“Her heart belongs to you. She will find a way back.”
Ben was thankful for Stephen’s encouragement. It was so much more than he received from Old Lizzie for saving Thoren Ashmore from the noose. Ben expected to hear something from the seer as a blasted courtesy. It was as if none of it had been real.
Fable was real. She was his wife and the master of his heart. He couldn’t sleep in peace without her. He couldn’t control his thoughts of her while he tried to practice his swordplay. He ate enough not to starve himself but he had no appetite.
When he entered the Colchester House’s dining hall, his heart felt lighter seeing his parents at the table with Prudence. Their reunion was tearful for everyone. Ben was happy for his sister, who hadn’t stopped smiling for the last fortnight. He knew what having his parents back meant.
The only thing that would make this happiness complete was if Fable were sitting at the table with them.
He missed her carefree smile, hearing her silky laughter like a siren’s song laying claim to him. Indeed, she made him too weak to fight her guileless wiles. He longed to hold her again, to tell her everyday what she meant to him.
Swallowing his heart, he smiled and took the seat his father left open at the head at the table.
“You look radiant this morning, Mother,” he complimented as his porridge was set before him. He pushed the bowl away and scanned the fruit on the table; grapes, cherries, peaches. Nothing appealed to him.
Feeling his mother’s gaze on him, he reached for a piece of black bread. She snatched it from his hand and slathered butter and honey on it, then handed it back to him.
“Benjamin,” she scolded, “if you don’t eat you won’t be here when she does return.”
He bit into the bread and cast his sister a resigned smirk. Her Grace Dorothea West was still unhappy with her son’s choice of a wife, but at least she didn’t voice her displeasure at times like this–when he felt as if he was treading on unsteady ground and at any moment it could all fall away.
“I heard you met Lady Charlotte of Nottingham,” his mother brought up while he chewed.
“That’s true,” he let her know.
“You threw her out of Colchester.”
He slid his gaze to hers. “Yes.”
“All right,” she said with a frown. “I heard Lady Margaret is kind-hearted and beautiful.”
“Mother–”
“Please, Son,” she whispered, reaching her fingers to his cheek. “Meet the king’s niece at least and if you decide–”
“I have met her. I do not want her for a wife. I already have a wife.”
His mother turned to Prudence. “Has he met Lady Elizabeth Dra–”
Ben slammed his palm down on the table. “Enough! Please. There is no one I wish to meet. I have met them all already.” One corner of his mouth rose with a snarl of distaste. “None of them pleased me. My plan was not to marry but to rejoin the king’s army and die on the battlefield.”
“Benjamin!” his mother and sister shouted in unison.
