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Her brows flew together at that. “I was not a frustrated spinster!”

Her denial seemed to amuse him, for a smile tugged at his lips. “Oh yes, you were,” he disagreed lightly. “Otherwise, you would not have come so prettily and so often on that night I took your virginity.”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Most virgins don’t enjoy it, Lizzie. But you did.”

“Benedict!”

He laughed at her indignant tone, reaching out and catching her up to him. At the first contact between them, he let out a sigh of relief. “I’m a fool,” he groaned as he took her lips beneath his own. “We’ve an early start tomorrow,” he said regretfully. Then, as though he could not help himself. “Tell me again.”

Lizzie hesitated. “Will you turn out the lamp?”

“I will once you say it,” he responded, his gaze snaring hers. She caught her breath at his words.

“I would have wanted you, if I had known it would be like this, Benedict Toomes.”

The smile he flashed her was reward enough. He kissed her again lingeringly and turned out the lamp.

18

The next morning, Benedict woke feeling surprisingly light in spirit. Considering he had fallen asleep half-hard and lying next to the object of his desire, this was nothing short of a miracle. He disentangled himself from Lizzie’s sleeping form and set about the morning preparations. The field was already a lot sparser with many carts and wagons having moved on already to their next venue.

Some, though not all, would be headed to the much smaller fair at Putney Heath that was their own destination. Sebastian lifted his head and watched Benedict go about his familiar routine. It was only when the water was bubbling over the fire that the animal deigned to rise from his blankets and join him next to it. Even then, Benedict did not fancy it was to seek his company, but rather because Lizzie’s dog thought it was time he had his first bone.

He had just obliged by fetching him one when he found himself hailed by his older brother. Frank was disheveled and unshaven as he hurried across the field toward him. Sebastian looked from one to the other of them with his great jaws clamped around the bone. For a moment, he hovered undecided but then skulked under the wagon with his prize.

“Ben, you’ll have to come,” Frank said. “You’ll never guess who’s here and wanting to speak to you.”

Benedict’s heart plummeted to his boots. “Not the old man?” he asked with an abrupt reversal of mood.

“What? Lord no!” His brother clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s Nat.”

“Nat?” Benedict was startled. Whatever he had expected his brother to come out with, it was not that. “Nat Jones?”

“Who else?”

“What does he want with me?”

Frank tugged at the open neck of his shirt. “Ben, it’s an olive branch he’s offering. Nothing more, nothing less. We told him, Jack and I, that things have changed with you. You’re married and settled down now, things are steadier.”

Benedict eyed his brother shrewdly. Frank was nervous and clearly apprehensive. “Tell me what he wants,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I won’t lie, Ben. It’s a minor fight he’s offering you, way down the bill and not the purse you’re used to either.” Frank swallowed and drew another breath. “We all know you deserve better, but – ”

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?” The relief in Frank’s bloodshot eyes was palpable. “Good for you, brother,” he said warmly, clapping him on the back. “Good for you.”

“Where is it?”

“Not far from here, at some farmer’s barn in Surrey.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

That brought Benedict up short. He cast a wry look at his brother. Clearly, Nat was looking for a last minute fill-in. Someone billed must have fallen through. Frank assiduously avoided his eye. “You and Jack fighting?” Benedict asked after a moment, letting him off the hook. After all, what was the point in making Frank squirm?