Objects Of His Obsession (18 page)

No need to tell Juliana of the
short, satisfying and very to the point interview he’d had with Hamer just
before leaving Cairo. Kingsley had informed him, before he’d left for Egypt, of
the campaign of undermining Benedict’s good name that Hamer had begun.

It had taken the services of a
private investigator and a short presentation of his findings to the older man
to know that Hamer would no longer be playing fast and loose with Ben’s
professional reputation.

Ingratitude had never impressed
Evander. Vindictive slander was guaranteed to take his rage to a new level.

“Elsa is looking forward to the
opera tonight,” Juliana was saying. “But once we’re back, I think you and I
need to have a serious discussion about Benedict.”

“Christ, Juliana. I think I can
handle my own–”

“
Not when I am the impediment
,” she said firmly. And then came
around to perch on the edge of his desk, indifferent to the documents she was
disordering, hazy blue eyes wide, upswept blonde hair glittering in the
brilliant, crystalline light of the chandelier. In the low-cut lavender silk,
diamonds flashing in her hair, she had never looked more sinfully angelic. Her
smile was wicked. “As a supporter of the suffrage movement I can hardly scream
for equality if I have found my true love and you have yet to be united with
yours.”

“You are impossible, Juliana.”

“No. I am perfect for you. For
you both, awkward, prickly beasts that you are.”

Evander groaned, flung up a
hand. “Christ, woman, I’m exhausted. Can’t you tell? And now I’m in a household
full of obstreperous females. You, my mother. Even Amandine, who I would swear
is some ungodly combination of the two of you. Just how Charles and I will ever
survive being so outnumbered is beyond me.”

Juliana snorted, straightening
up from the desk. “Rubbish,” she said inelegantly. “Both of you males are
surrounded by a household of adoring women. And I will get Benedict to see
sense. I refuse to do otherwise.”

Evander arched a brow. “Now I’m
afraid for the poor bastard.”

“Poor bastard! With you as the
prize? Now you really are talking rubbish, my love.”

The telegram was the lure. Nautilus
Prime had won his first major race. The telegram had news of the not
insubstantial ten percent of Nautilus’s winnings Juliana had ensured Checkers,
or rather, McCabe, would set aside for Benedict. That ten percent Benedict’s
share as co-owner of the horse he’d won Checkers, back in that Harkenstorn
House archery match.

McCabe sent the telegram,
receiving a brief and congratulatory telegram in return.

But no acceptance of the
invitation to attend Nautilus’s next race.

Which Juliana, pushing the
process through, was not surprised at.

Evander merely grunted when she
told him. He thought her scheming insane, and had quietly sunk himself into
work. For the first time in his life he didn’t know what else to do. He had
never felt such a sense of powerlessness before. Or not since he was a small
child, before his mother had escaped the Berkeley Square house after one
particularly vicious, bloodstained argument.

He had a sharp, short memory of
that confrontation. Hearing it. Sneaking to catch a terrified glimpse of it
from around a half open door.

Not a sight he would ever
forget. Or forgive.

Yet was glad of it, because
without that memory, he might not have understood so well just why his mother
had
to leave.

That she was not deserting him.
That she was, in fact, running for her life.

Time wore on and his detective
sent him reports. The dig was going well, from all accounts. Benedict working
himself like a dog. Hamer was keeping his mouth shut.

And continuing his affair with a
foreign diplomat’s very young wife.

None of which surprised him.

Kingsley wanted him to return
to Cairo for a week or so, not that there was any practical need for it. He and
his agents were handling the intricacies of officialdom perfectly well.

Evander suspected it was simply
that Kingsley had become addicted to the Cairo lifestyle and wanted Evander
there to ramp up the rounds of dinner parties and balls thrown yet further. And
cynically Evander knew that his title and reputation would ensure that, with or
without his wife.

And so he stayed in London,
with Juliana and the children, with occasional breaks spent in Kent.

Spring was almost over when
they returned to Paris. It was twilight, and the children tired from a weekend
spent with friends in the country as the carriage drew up on the sweep of
gravel by the pale stone house. The building itself was ablaze with lights.

All of which was as it should
be.

Charles bounded out of the
carriage on a fresh surge of energy. Amandine had fallen asleep against her
father. Carefully he folded her slight body into his arms, her face turning
into his chest, her inky tumble of curls an echo of his own cropped blue-black
as he stepped out of the carriage after Juliana.

A footman stepped forward as he
began to stride towards the opened front door, Charles charging ahead of all of
them, and Evander shook his head.

“No, she’s fine. I’ll take her
up to her room myself.”

He was following in the wake of
Charles, racing across the black and white chequerboard of marble that formed
the endless hall floor when a door to his left opened. The door to the drawing
room.

Benedict stood there.

Evander froze.

Ben looked tired, Evander
registered, in that first shock of utter and total surprise. A little thinner,
dark circles under his eyes. His clothes, a well tailored but unremarkable
suit, shirt and tie, a little crumpled, as if he’d just stepped off the train.
And he’d had a haircut at some point, Evander registered with some
disappointment.

He hadn’t realized till that
moment just how much he’d liked that overly long, sun-streaked brown hair.

Although the cut did suit Benedict
better now, he allowed. Showed to distinction that strong, clean bone
structure.

And right at this moment, Evander
registered, Benedict was looking at him with a kind of horror. Those warm brown
eyes drifted down to the little girl asleep in Evander’s arms and he took a
step back, glancing up the marble sweep of stairs at Charles’s disappearing
heels.

“I – I am so sorry,” he
muttered. “I didn’t realize that your family–”

Juliana swept into the hall in
a darkest mulberry travelling dress. “Benedict! Oh, I am so glad that you came
after all. I know that–”

“I think I should be going,”
Benedict managed.

“No,” Evander bit out.

He glanced over at Juliana,
clearly the engineer of this, and she read his turquoise eyes with ease. Even
as the servants waited for the small drama to clear, she crossed the marble
floor to Benedict and took his arm. “You look quite done in,” she observed.
“Poor man. But of course, Cairo to Paris is a hundred times worse than Provence
to Paris.” She glanced over at one of the waiting footmen. “Cook has
instructions. Please inform her that we are ready to go ahead.”

Evander continued up the stairs
with his daughter, leaving Benedict in the clutches of his wife. The man was
going nowhere fast, no matter how much he wanted to.

But just exactly how Juliana
had gotten him here he would pay good money to find out.

As he reached Amandine’s suite
of rooms one of the maids had the door open and the lamp by the bed lit.

“Papa,” Amandine muttered
sleepily as he set her down on the bed.

She curled up, booted feet and
all, on the immaculate white coverlet.

He nodded to Nanny Porter on his
way out of the room. She was already efficiently unlacing the boots from the
sleeping child’s feet.

Charles was doubtless in his
room, pulling open a package that had been sent ahead. The latest in
microscopes being his prize. Evander gave him another ten minutes before he’d
cave and fall asleep.

Servants flowing upstairs, he
headed downstairs to the sitting room.

And the bizarre miracle that
somehow Juliana had wrought.

~~***~~

“You – you are well–”

It was said in such a stunned
tone that Evander knew at once it was no polite enquiry after his health.
Instead Benedict had expected to find him ill.

“Yes, I am well,” he said
dryly, lifting a brow. “And judging by the look on your face, any news of my
impending demise has been greatly exaggerated.”

Benedict flushed, taking a seat
on one of the elegant, carved wood and velvet sofas. “I did – I did have
the impression that you were seriously…”

“Near death?” Evander guessed,
and gave him a savage grin, closing the door to the drawing room. He stalked
across the carpet and paused, hands on the back of a chair across from Benedict.
“Juliana,” he said bluntly.

Benedict ran a hand over his
face. “Yes. She sent me a letter.”

“Juliana can be the most
ruthless of women,” Evander said lazily, eyes half lidded, allowing himself to
drink in the sight of the other man. He felt a warmth spread through him,
through his heart, where once had been chill. “So what is it I’m supposed to be
dying
of
?”

Benedict winced, clearly
feeling like a fool. “Malaria, picked up during your trip to Cairo. A
particularly virulent form of it.”

Evander gave a bark of
laughter, heading over to the drinks tray. “She does have a flair for the
dramatic. Well, as you can tell, I am healthy as a horse.” He lifted the
stopper from a decanter. “Whisky? Or would you prefer something else? Brandy?”

“Whisky.”

Benedict took the glass and
sank half quickly. The alcohol only overlaid his pallor with a flush. Evander
took in just how truly exhausted he looked. Clearly he’d been working himself
into the ground.

“You’ve finished your time with
Hamer?” he asked flatly.

Benedict nodded wearily, the alcohol
clearly hitting his system, and allowed his eyes to close for a moment. “Yes,
thank Christ.”

A universe of hard fought
battles in those simple words, Evander noted.

“And so you’re back in Europe
for a while before you return?”

“I hadn’t really thought about
it, but yes. I’ll give myself a decent break this time, catch up with family,
that kind of thing.”

“Not to mention, going to my
funeral,” Evander suggested dryly.

Those warm brown eyes shot to
his. “That really is no joke, Casterwell. I truly thought you were on death’s
door.”

Turquoise eyes narrowed on his.
“It’s Evander. I told you that, remember? Would you also like me to remind you
of just what the circumstances were?” he growled.

He was so conscious of a
lightening somewhere in his heart, his spirits. And it was nothing more than
the faint thread of hope, reviving. He held Benedict’s gaze with his own. “You
never did finish your work on my grandfather’s collection. So you will be
staying at Harkenstorn for a while. Not to mention, the racing season is well
and truly moving ahead. Checkers will be expecting you to attend the next race
Nautilus runs.”

“Yes, well…” Benedict was
rising awkwardly to his feet, hat in hand, politely ignoring what Evander had
said, setting his glass down on the table. “I must go, Evander. I – I
hadn’t known what to expect when I got here, but now I clearly need to find a
hotel, and–”

Evander rose as well, caught
him, a hand on his arm. The way Benedict froze at that touch was not
encouraging.

“You will be staying here. We’ll
be having a late supper shortly. One of the guest bedrooms will have been prepared
for you.”

Now Benedict did yank his arm
away. He was beginning to look grey with exhaustion, but the angry glitter in
his eyes was unmistakable.

“I don’t know what arrangement
you have with your wife. I don’t know why Juliana has arranged
this
, unless she feels that having a
lover herself, it’s amusing to aid you in your own love life. But given the
goddamned
lie
that brought me here, I
had thought much better of her–”

Benedict turned and headed for
the door.

Evander caught him there,
grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him back against the heavy wooden panels.

“You will stay here tonight,”
he bit out. “As our guest. You will stay here for the rest of the week, see
some of Paris, and
relax
. Juliana may
have twisted the truth to get you here, but frankly, you’re looking two steps
away from death’s door yourself. So you will accept my hospitality, and when
you feel ready, you can complete the work you began at Harkenstorn, and finish
cataloguing and assessing my grandfather’s collection.”

Benedict shoved him back, that
warm amber glittering like ice. “I came here because I … cared. Instead I’ve
been duped. Made a fool of. And no,
Evander
,
I’m not going to stay in this house and let you fuck me.”