Page 48 of The Betrothal

“How long would it take them to collect you? How quickly would they come?”

Alex arched a brow, and I realised how menacing he could be.

“A week?” he continued.

I shook my head.

“A matter of days?” He was looking less impressed by the second.

I sucked my cheek between my teeth, working the skin before I decided on the most likely outcome.

“I’d say a matter of hours.” That was completely true. If Father and Teddy knew where I was, I’d be in London this evening.

He glared.

“Am I that much of an imposition, Alex? That you’re threatening to turn me in? You can’t stand me being around you, so you’ll call the police, hand me over?” I couldn’t hide the hurt and fear.

“You assume my demeanour is only because you invaded my personal space?” He sounded as if he thought I was being obtuse.

“And it isn’t?” I snapped.

His slow inhale told me I was working on his nerves. “It is and it isn’t,” he admitted and I smiled in triumph. “But the issue isn’t any trouble at my door. It is the risk of the devastation you could cause inside my home.”

I blinked slowly, and he actually rolled his eyes.

“Seb? That will upset Ben?”

The laugh he released was not of pleasure. “Obtuse.”

“Ah, you two are getting along,” Seb announced his arrival. Someone here always interrupted every conversation.

“Not exactly.” Alex gave me a final glower, any concessions relinquished, and retreated.

“Is he always like this?” I tilted my head back to see Seb, freezing as his fingers caressed down the column of my neck. I gulped under his palm.

“He warms in time?”

I opened my mouth to speak but there were no words, his touch leaving me speechless.

Seb released me and I sighed. “How much time?”

Seb shifted to show Ben behind him and I sat upright, turning. Ben looked better, the light grey t-shirt he wore much softer against his pale skin than the usual black. I was pleased to see he looked more at ease.

“What did it take for him to warm to me, Benji?”

“Three years.” Ben slotted back onto the sofa and I tucked my legs up, it was plenty large enough for me to give him his space but Seb dropped into the seat between us, grabbing my feet and dropping them into his lap.

“Three years, Killer.” He snatched the chocolate and broke some off, passing it to Ben who nibbled on it slowly.

Pressure dragged over the arch of my foot and I gasped, the sensation pleasant on an ache I didn’t know I had.

“I’d known Benji here maybe two years before he came to be a Cavendish?”

Ben thought. “Twenty-seven months.”

Came to be a Cavendish?

“We knew each other from the town, and he wasn’t going to shake me that easily.”