Best of Both Rogues (3 page)

A lady backed into her path and Eve bumped into her. “Pardon me,” she mumbled, tried to sidestep the woman, and accidentally stomped a gentleman’s toes. A surprised grunt reached her ears.

“Sorry.” She tried to forge on, ducking her head even more to hide her embarrassment, but two firm hands grabbed her shoulders. She gasped.

“Here you are, darling.”

The voice filled her with relief, and she nearly collapsed in Jonathan’s arms. Looking up into her fiancé’s warm turquoise gaze, she smiled. “You’ve arrived.”

His cockeyed grin was aimed back at her. “Of course I have. Where else would I be except by your side this evening? Forgive me for being late. I—uh—I ran into an unexpected delay.”

Eve’s assessing gaze took in his untamed brown curls and rumpled cravat. Her heart lost some of its lightness. Jonathan had a tendency to become absorbed in his studies at times, but surely he wouldn’t forget about their betrothal ball. “Did you lose track of time at the museum?”

His smile faded. “No, darling. I swear to you. There was an incident along the way this evening, but all is well and I am here.”

“What kind of incident?”

“I’d rather not worry you,” he said, two lines appearing between his brows. When she didn’t shift her curious gaze or offer to let the matter drop, he sighed. “A pickpocket tried to take my watch in Covent Garden.”

“A pickpocket?” The shock of his answer made her light-headed. When she swayed slightly, he took her by the arm to steady her.

“He was just a boy. I gave chase, but he was too quick. There really is no cause to worry.”

She frowned. “Why were you on foot after dark? It may have been only a boy
this
time, but you cannot expect to be so fortunate next time.”

“I know; it was foolish. I promise never to repeat my mistake. Forgive me for being late?” His sheepish expression lent him a boyish air, and she didn’t have the heart to scold him further.

“You are forgiven. And thank God you were not hurt.” She linked arms with him. “Now let’s find my family. Lord Eldridge will make our announcement soon.”

Throwing one more anxious look over her shoulder, she prayed Ben was already leaving Eldridge House. Her stomach ached at the thought of him finding out about her betrothal as if he were a casual acquaintance rather than the man she had loved and mourned for so long.

She should have told him about Jonathan when they danced. Even though she had every right to make a happy life for herself, she couldn’t shake the sense she was betraying Ben by keeping her impending marriage a secret.

A pungent fog hung on the air, casting a grayish tint over everything in the card room. Ben cursed under his breath. He would stink of cheroot when he returned to the ball. If the Earl of Wellham were not among the loo players, Ben would make another sweep of the ballroom. And if he happened to cross paths with Eve again, he didn’t want to give her one more excuse to run from him.

He frowned, unhappy with their parting this evening. At the end of the dance, she had bolted like a racehorse when the starter waves his flag. She hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye.

Just
like
you, jackass.
Ben scratched his neck where prickles crept along his skin. The day he left for India, he’d had so many thoughts swirling in his mind, but when Mr. Cooper asked if Ben had a message for Eve to accompany the gift, he’d become too choked up to speak. He had never said good-bye to her either.

Ben was likely a fool to believe it was possible to win her back after what he’d done, but her pull was undeniable. He still loved her. He didn’t deserve her—never had—but he would do everything he could to earn her favor again. Now, however, he had a task to complete. If he wanted to help Charlotte’s family, he needed to propose a deal with Wellham, which required an actual conversation with the man.

Charlotte
Tanney.
Ben’s first infatuation. He still pictured her from the day they tried to elope.
Golden
hair
tucked
beneath
the
fashionable
new
bonnet
he’d bought with his allowance, her wide smile plumping her rosy cheeks.

“In only a few days, I’ll be Mrs. Benjamin Hillary,” she whispered in his ear as they crammed into a mail coach with a mother and her brood of five children. “I have never been happier.”

He
grinned
and
discreetly
brushed
his
hand
against
hers
to
convey
his
agreement. He’d never been happier either. At fifteen, no one would ever convince him love couldn’t transcend social class. Charlotte, the sweet and innocent baker’s daughter, was his perfect match.

As
the
carriage
pulled
away
from
the
coaching
inn, the boy beside Ben dug his bony elbow into his ribs. Ben grunted under his breath and shifted closer to Charlotte. The boy’s mother stared blankly from across the coach as she cradled her fussy baby against her chest. The town of Eton hadn’t disappeared on the horizon before the baby began screeching loud enough to explode his brain. The stench of a dirty nappy crept up on him and soon overpowered the spices clinging to Charlotte’s silky hair.

He
never
traveled
in
such
a
manner, accustomed as he was to the luxuries his father’s wealth afforded. How anyone survived such conditions was beyond him.

Charlotte
lifted
her
face
toward
him
and
smiled
in
commiseration. “Thank you. I realize this is beneath you.”

“No, it isn’t.” He refused to acknowledge any differences between them. They belonged together, no matter what his father believed, and once Charlotte was his wife, his father would see he was wrong.

He’d never had a chance to change his father’s mind, since Father and his older brother Nicholas caught up to them before the end of their second day. Ben hadn’t been allowed a moment to say good-bye to Charlotte before she was bustled into another mail coach headed back to Eton and Ben was forced into a hired coach that carried him back to his family home.

The faint sounds of Charlotte’s anguished cries encroached on his memory, and he slammed the door in his mind.

Ben returned his attention to searching for the Earl of Wellham at the overcrowded gaming tables. Margrave caught his eye and waved him over to a table wedged in a corner of the drawing room. As usual, his friend had chosen a position that allowed him the best view of his surroundings. Ben’s brother Jake was seated next to Margrave.

Ben ignored the glower his brother directed toward him. No doubt Jake had heard about his back-door entrance and came to the card room to deliver another lecture on etiquette. Jake thought attending parties without an invitation was beneath Ben. Ben thought his youngest brother should remove the stick from his arse.

Signaling a footman to bring him a drink, Ben scanned the various groups of men gathered around the tables. Wellham wasn’t there. Ben’s source—one of Wellham’s servants—assured him the earl would be here this evening, so he couldn’t have gotten far. When the footman approached with a crystal tumbler on a small tray, Ben offered his thanks and headed toward Margrave and Jake’s table to wait for the earl to make an appearance.

As Ben approached, Margrave’s dark gaze remained locked on his cards. He was likely calculating the odds of holding a winning hand. The viscount was a genius with numbers and never forgot what cards had been played, which was the reason Ben hadn’t sat at his table since their days at Oxford. He was pleased to see his brother hadn’t fallen prey to Margrave’s trap either, choosing to observe rather than join the game. Three of their fellow gents were not as bright.

Jake lifted an eyebrow in reproach. “I tried to speak to the earl on your behalf, but the second he saw me, he dashed out the door. Someone saw him leaving the ball on foot. I would have told you when you entered the room if you hadn’t given me the cut direct. I’m guessing Wellham will not be back.”

A low growl rumbled in Ben’s throat. “What the devil is wrong with the man? I barely know him, so what is his objection to me?”

Jake shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly enthused to speak with me either. Whatever his objection, it seems to extend to our family, although I cannot guess at what that might be.”

Ben took an angry swig of his brandy and remained standing. He didn’t see a point in staying in the card room if his quarry was gone. He nodded toward Jake. “Thank you for making the attempt anyway. I know you prefer remaining by your wife’s side at these sorts of events. Should we go find her?”

Ben didn’t know his sister-in-law well since he’d been in India during his brother’s courtship of her, but in less than a day, he had noted Jake’s devotion to Amelia and the son she had given him. He tried not to envy his brother.

At Jake’s grim expression, a ripple of unease passed through Ben. “Perhaps we should stay where we are,” his brother said, “or better yet, why don’t we leave the ball and find a tavern?”

Something was amiss. To leave early would risk offending Lord and Lady Eldridge. Jake would no sooner abandon his wife than he would his priggish manners.

“What has happened? Why have you really sought me out?”

Jake tugged at his cravat. His nervous silence did nothing to stop the sense of dread building in the pit of Ben’s stomach.

“Is it Mother? Father?” Ben misjudged the distance of the table and accidentally slammed his glass against the surface.

Jake’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by his alarm. Margrave and his opponents halted their game to stare. Heat engulfed Ben.

“Nothing has happened,” Jake said. “What would make you think—?”

Ben waved off his brother’s question, irritated that he’d drawn attention to himself. He needed to keep his wits about him, especially around others. It was too undignified to have one of his attacks here. “If you’ve not come bearing bad news, then you were sent to keep me occupied. By whom?”

His brother smiled sheepishly. “I am to keep you out of the ballroom. And do you truly need to ask who sent me?”

“Lana,” Ben grumbled. Their younger sister. The only person capable of bending Ben and his three brothers to her will. Being a soft touch when it came to Lana, however, didn’t mean he would allow her to run roughshod over him. Even if Wellham had evaded him again, as Jake reported, Ben wasn’t ready to leave. “Unless you intend to tie me up, you’ve no way of keeping me in the card room.”

Jake chuckled. “Do not give our sister any ideas, or she may start carrying rope in her reticule.” His brother’s grin faded, and he stood to draw Ben away from the table, affording them more privacy. “Perhaps it would be best if you heeded Lana’s wishes tonight. She wants to spare your feelings. Eve Thorne’s betrothal is to be announced in a moment.”

Ben’s breath left him in a whoosh.

“You must have heard Sir Jonathan Hackberry has been courting her. The contract was signed last week.” Jake’s voice sounded far away and his lips were still moving, but Ben was no longer listening.

He had learned of Hackberry’s interest in Eve the night her brother challenged Ben to a duel. When he hadn’t heard Eve’s and the baronet’s names linked again, he’d assumed Eve had discouraged the odd man.

“Amelia said Miss Thorne genuinely likes him, which must be some comfort.”

Ben was ripped from his dazed state by his brother’s ridiculous words. “She
likes
him? How is that comforting?”

Several pairs of eyes swung in their direction. Anger seared his veins, and he wanted to shout for everyone to mind their own damned affairs, but he didn’t care to be the topic of tomorrow’s gossip. Ignoring their curious stares, he motioned Jake to follow him into the corridor. The door closed behind them with a soft snick, shutting out the rumble of voices from the card room.

Ben crossed his arms to keep from hitting something. “Did you say she likes the man?” One
liked
one’s Aunt Mabel or mincemeat pie or the rare sunny day. Eve couldn’t bloody well marry Hackberry just because she found him amiable. Furthermore, Hackberry’s likability was a point for debate. Ben didn’t care for him one bit.

“Eve will only marry if love is involved,” Ben said. “She was steadfast on this.”

“Circumstances change. People change.” The dim lighting couldn’t hide Jake’s pitying look. Ben gripped his biceps to keep from wiping the look off his brother’s face with his knuckles.

“You know nothing about her. Why am I listening to you?” He turned to stalk toward the ballroom, but Jake’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Can you truly say you know her anymore?”

Ben jerked free of Jake’s hold. He hated having the truth tossed back in his face. “This is her brother’s doing. She would never compromise her values. I need to speak with her.”

“Ben, please do not make a scene. Hasn’t Miss Thorne suffered enough embarrassment at your hands?”

His brother’s words cooled the flames that were consuming his insides, and his shoulders slumped as his anger slowly died away. Damn Jake for being right. He was too big for his breeches as it was.

Sebastian Thorne wasn’t to blame for Eve’s circumstances. This was Ben’s doing. Just as he had destroyed Charlotte, he had crushed Eve’s dreams of a love match. She was settling for less than she deserved because of him.

He exhaled and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Must you always act as my conscience?”

“I hope not. I have better ways to spend my time.”

Jake had advised him well when he’d convinced him to lose the duel with Eve’s brother to restore her reputation, but to surrender her to another man? Even though he knew his brother was right—Ben
should
let her go—the decision hung heavily over his head.

Eventually, he nodded. “I won’t make a scene.”

Jake smiled and slapped a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “Splendid. Shall we rejoin Margrave?”

Ben spun out of Jake’s grasp and stalked down the long corridor en route to the ballroom.

“Devil take it.” Jake’s long strides soon matched his. “I thought you weren’t going to cause any trouble.”

Jake cursed under his breath as Ben reached the ballroom door.

“I gave my word,” Ben said, “and I will not break it. Thank our sister for trying to spare me, but I can’t stay away.”

When Ben entered the brightly lit room, Jake sighed. “Blasted martyr,” he grumbled and followed him inside.

The musicians were playing a raucous tune, sawing at their instruments as the dancers spun around the floor at dizzying speeds. Lord Eldridge moved to the edge of the dais, his posture stiff as he awaited the end of the set. The earl’s slicked-down silver hair, as well as his height, made him stand out in the crowd. A determined set to his jaw hinted he had a task to perform.

Ben’s fingers began to tingle. He shook his hands to drive away the irritating sensation, but it didn’t help. His chest was growing heavy, as if trying to squeeze the life from him. Inhaling deeply, he fought against the feeling of suffocation creeping up on him.
Hell, not now
.
Not
here
. He couldn’t allow the panic to get the best of him this time.

Jake’s forehead creased, and he grabbed Ben above his elbow. “Come with me.”

He didn’t argue as his brother drew him toward a darkened alcove. They dissolved into the shadows, the wall catching Ben’s weight as his legs almost buckled. He clawed at his cravat, managing to rip the knot free, and gasped for air.

“Slow down,” Jake urged in a quiet voice. “Take your time breathing.”

Ben focused on his brother’s soothing tone, closing his eyes and silently repeating “all is well,” as he’d learned to do in Delhi when he woke from a nightmare, struggling to breathe.

Jake’s hand on his shoulder supported his weight. “Gather your wits, Ben.” Although Jake’s tone wasn’t chiding, his meaning struck Ben, and he glared at his brother as indignation flooded his body, restoring his strength.

“I’m not a bloody Bedlamite,” he said through gritted teeth. “Gather
your
wits before I beat your arse.”

Jake held his palms up in surrender and chuckled. “I only meant to help. No need to resort to violence.”