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“Get on the bed,” he said tersely.

Lizzie opened her mouth and then closed it again. He hadn’t told her to undress, and indeed, he kept his own jacket on. Lizzie sank onto the mattress, watching him curiously as he knelt at her feet and unlaced her boots.

Straightening up, he reached for the bottle and popped the cork in a business-like fashion. “Are we celebrating?” she asked curiously and received no answer.

He poured her a glass into the shallow champagne glass and set it down beside her. “Drink this. Frank’s fetching us some supper. I won’t be long.” He reached across for her shawl and bundled it about her before making for the door.

Lizzie gazed after him in some consternation. “Don’t forget to feed Sebastian!” she called after him, though she did not know why precisely, for he never did forget. Reaching for the glass of champagne, she took a sip and debated changing into her nightgown, but indeed it was very early, and what if Benedict invited his brothers to share their supper?

Before she knew it, she had drunk half the glass of delicious bubbles. Setting it down, she reclined against the pillows, reflecting she had not eaten since a savory cheese scone at lunchtime. Five minutes later, Benedict reappeared with a paper bag.

“Your supper,” he said handing it over. “I’ve fed the dog.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to question him further, but he had already disappeared again. Tutting loudly, Lizzie ate a Cornish pasty and, guessing that she was not going to be socializing again this evening, changed into her long cotton nightgown. Drinking the other half of her glass, she unpinned her hair and brushed it out, pulling on a pair of woolly bedsocks to keep her feet warm.

Before long, Benedict reappeared with a basin of hot water which he set on the side for her. “Come and wash.” She did so, and he refilled her glass, shrugging off his own jacket.

“Are you not having any?” Lizzie asked as she lathered her hands with the new cake of fragrant soap she had bought.

“I will after.”

“After?” Again, she received no answer, and Lizzie turned back to finish washing her face and neck. “I’ve finished,” she told him in subdued tones, as she dabbed at her chin with a towel.

“Get comfortable on the bed,” he said in clipped tones, and tore off his own neckcloth and waistcoat before taking her place at the basin. Lizzie slid up the bed until she was sat up by the pillows.

“Don’t forget your champagne,” he told her as he splashed the water about. Lizzie ignored the fizzing glass, for she wanted no more of it until she had heard what he had to say.

Finally, he was drying himself off and walking around the bed in his breeches and long-sleeved vest. He dropped down onto the mattress directly in front of her and stared at her a moment. “Our conversation was interrupted earlier,” he started. “We still need to set things straight between us.”

He paused a moment. “First of all, though, I want to thank you for not going off without fetching me this afternoon.” Lizzie nodded warily. She had a feeling he was getting the good out of the way before the bad. She felt almost unspeakably jittery about what might come next. “Get under the covers if you’re cold,” he said with a frown, mistaking her nerves for shivering.

Lizzie reached for her shawl instead and draped it around her shoulders. “Continue,” she said with a calm she did not feel.

“It wasn’t hard for me to see Betsy this afternoon,” he said bluntly. “There’s nothing between us now and there was precious little there to begin with. Under normal circumstances, I would never have entered into an engagement with her. Almost from the get-go, I knew it felt wrong, but I thought settling with anyone would, until I met you. It would never have worked out between Betsy and me. You do know that, Lizzie?”

Lizzie flushed. “I hadn’t really considered it.”

He regarded her with some skepticism. “You expect me to believe you didn’t counsel her against marrying me at every turn?”

Lizzie’s color grew even deeper. “Well, of course I did, but that was my own prejudice against you at work.”

A faint smile curved his lips. “And you knew full well Betsy and me would never have lasted. We had nothing in common and barely knew each other.”

Lizzie pulled a face. “The same could be said about the two of us when we made our vows,” she pointed out.

Benedict shook his head. “No, I knew you alright. I knew your substance.”

Lizzie felt suddenly breathless. “What do you mean?” she quavered.

“I knew what you were made of,” he said. “Here,” and placed a hand carefully over her breastbone. Lizzie stared at him, feeling the warmth from his palm spread out. He was quiet a moment, keeping his hand where it lay. “Ask me about the house, Lizzie.”

“The one on Winchester Street?” He nodded and she took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me that it existed?”

He frowned but did not look angry. “I bought it in preparation of going respectable,” he said slowly. “Marriage came under that heading, as did retiring from boxing, but I promise you, I never once thought of Betsy either at the point of purchase or in the month I spent living in that house. In truth, I felt indifferent about it. It didn’t feel real. It certainly didn’t feel like my home. But if you were there maybe … ” He broke off a moment and took a deep breath. “I think I need to tell you something now, something I haven’t told anyone before.”

Lizzie’s head swam, and for the craziest moment, she thought he was going to tell her he loved her. When he spoke, she realized her mistake of course; his tone was all wrong for that sort of thing.

“There’s a reason why I don’t feel so close to my family as my brothers do,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting hers.