Damnation.
He would play nice, or at least play politely. “The inheritance was a surprise. I’m sorry I didn’t know my cousin before he passed. A dreadful waste of life so young.”
Lady Bradenstock’s eyes narrowed, fully aware of his censure.
Amelia interrupted. “May I introduce my sister, Miss Cassandra Asterly.”
Cassandra sank into a deep curtsey, eyes downcast. There was not a single falter where a month ago she would have looked like a wobbly spinning top.
“It’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” Her voice was steady, lower than normal, and lacking her girlish enthusiasm. It made him anxious. And the approving look from the over-powdered, overdressed woman in front of him nudged the anxiety into full-blown panic.
He clenched his hands to stop himself from dragging Cassandra behind his back, out of this woman’s reach.
“You are delightful,” Lady Bradenstock said to her. “I do hope to see you again before we leave.”
His sister didn’t grin or bounce or react in any way that he expected. She simply inclined her head graciously, looking like a tiny replica of Amelia.
Before Benedict could inform Lady Bradenstock that she was unlikely to be seeing his sister again, Lord Bradenstock grabbed his hand and pumped it forcefully.
“I hear you’re an engineer,” the older man said. “Fascinating. Just fascinating. I might have done the same if it were an acceptable profession when I was young.” He seemed utterly oblivious to the insult he’d just given.
Benedict ground his teeth. “It’s funny that scientists gave us bridges and roads and coaches and housing, yet are unacceptable.”
Unlike his wife, Lord Bradenstock did not pick up on the undercurrent of criticism. He just smiled and said, “Perhaps an engineering earl might change all that, eh?”
The sniff that came from behind him was long and dismissive. “I doubt that. You don’t see a dancing monkey and think it belongs in a ballroom.”
It took every ounce of self-control for Benedict not to put his fist into Nathaniel Bradenstock’s pale and limpid face.
And when the popinjay bent over Amelia’s hand with a sugary flourish, Benedict was consumed by a sudden, acrid dislike.
Not because of his insults, or the way his lips lingered on Amelia’s fingers—although that was not an act Benedict wished to watch again—but because Nathaniel was fine-boned, delicate, with perfect curls and long lashes, pallid skin and long, delicate fingers. He wore color. Lots of colors. And fabrics that Benedict loved to tear off his wife but would never feel comfortable wearing.
Nathaniel was everything Benedict’s mother had wished for in a son.
Throughout his childhood, Benedict had cursed his tall frame and shaggy hair that fell flat and limp to his shoulders when he tried to grow it into fashionably long curls. His skin had tanned at the very hint of sun, and though he spent months refusing to exercise at all, he was still lumbering.
He had tried hard to be Nathaniel and had never managed it.
To hell with him.
“Welcome to my home,” he ground out, crushing the popinjay’s fingers.
Nathaniel’s look morphed from condescension to apprehension. The boy wasn’t as idiotic as he seemed.
Amelia frowned and took the pretty boy’s arm. “You must want to freshen up from the journey. Let me show you to your room.” She threw a pointed look at Benedict over her shoulder as she left.
Damn, it was going to be a difficult week.
It was as though Amelia had never left London. While the men played billiards and smoked cigars in the billiards room, Amelia spent the day with the women her own age and soaked up thetongossip. Who had been in town for the little Season. Who had been courting whom. Who had been wearing what and when and how the rest of thetonhad reacted.
It had been a shame that she’d missed out on so much, they said. Her absence had been mourned. Society hadn’t been the same. How exciting it was that she’d returned to the fold. What a smashing week this would be.
There was no mention of the circumstances surrounding her marriage. Nor the cartoons in the gossip pages, nor the fact that her letters had gone unanswered, her invitations to visit ignored. In fact, it seemed as though the past three months had been entirely wiped from existence.
And if that needled a little, then she would just push the feeling aside and focus on the fact that, for the moment, she had achieved what she wanted. She was a full-fledged member of society once again.
Now she needed to greet her final guests because there was more than one mountain to climb over the next few days.
