Tucker spat, saliva dripping down the side of Benedict’s face. “Fine words from a man that turned his back on the cause, married himself a lady-wife, got himself a title, and betrayed those who stood by him.”
The words were a knife to the chest, but it was the muttering of assent from the crowd—the people he’d grown up with—that twisted the blade.
“Bollocks. I’ve done only what was needed. I’ve betrayed no one,” Benedict said, dropping the man to the ground. Tucker fell but stood quickly, brushing the dust from his knees.
“Then where have you been,my lord?” Jeremy had pushed his way to the front of the crowd and regarded him with a look so full of loathing that Benedict barely recognized the boy.
Devil help him, he had made a mistake.
The signs had been there for weeks. He simply hadn’t acted on them, writing off Jeremy’s behavior as youthful petulance—an annoyance that he’d not bothered to address. And now the kid had been twisted and turned into a blunt weapon for two older, malicious, and manipulative men to wield.
“Because it hasn’t been at the firm,” Jeremy continued. “Unless it’s to swan around with some bloody toffs, showing us off as if we were pigs at a show.”
Benedict’s soul ached to see the damage his negligence had wrought. There had to be some part of the boy he knew left. Some part he could reason with. “Jeremy, I’ve been working to ensure the firm has work for everyone.”
“But if a better deal comes along, you’ll take it, right?” Jeremy sneered. “Because jobs for us don’t matter as much as cash in the pocket, am I right?”
The roiling unease that was churning in his stomach started to rise. Started to make its way up his chest, his throat. “They’re big accusations for a boy barely out of the schoolroom.”
“It’s true though, isn’t it? You made the big deal. You got the money. But the jobs will go to some lucky bugger in America, not us.”
There was a collective gasp from the mob. Oliver had been winding his way through the crowd—a word here, a slight push there—slowly winnowing out anyone who might be convinced to go home before it all went bad. He’d worked his way to the front of the crowd, and now put a big hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “That’s not true, lad. You know it.”
Benedict could try for a hundred years and still never deserve the unwavering faith of his foreman.
Tucker began to laugh. “If you’re so sure of this, why does Asterly look as if he wants to vomit?”
Oliver looked to Benedict. “Just tell them it’s not true.”
Hedidwant to vomit. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to look Oliver in the eye. “It’s been a busy day.” It was all he could offer his friend, and as the words came out of his mouth, he heard how thin and mealy they were.
Oliver’s face slackened. The crowd shifted behind him as he stepped back in shock. “You…I can’t…”
“I have a plan.” But the plea didn’t lessen the look of horror on Oliver’s face. Or the clear betrayal.
This time it wasn’t bottles the men threw, it was mud. A handful of it hit Benedict in the side of the head, splattering his face.
He stared out into the faces of men that he’d grown up with. Men that he’d tried so damned hard to protect. Men that he’d failed.
The crowd pressed forward, hungry for blood, and the makeshift stage swayed under the pressure.
“You’ve got to go.” Wildeforde clapped him on the shoulders and pushed him toward the side of the stage. “You can’t help matters now.”
Benedict stumbled away, flinching as a boot hit square on his back.
Behind him, the war cries started.
Chapter31
Benedict raced up the drive, hoping to make it from the front door to his study without being seen by any of the thirty-odd guests that had taken over his home.
He needed to fortify the house in case Wildeforde and Oliver couldn’t talk down the crowd.
He needed a drink. He needed to be alone. He definitely did not need to make nice to a room full of the toffs who had caused the damn problem in the first place.
And he did not need to see his wife.
Life had been running fine until she showed up. Now he barely recognized himself. How could he blame the men of the village for their anger when he himself found his actions reprehensible?
