Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

" G ather round, please." Benedict spread his arms, addressing the guests now gathered before him. He grinned, enjoying their eager, curious expressions.

All day, he had checked to make sure that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. After the success of last night's supper, he wanted to be certain that everyone's spirits remained high. To his relief, everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Everyone except for Thalia.

As usual, she eyed him with suspicion that bordered on condemnation. Holding her gaze a moment longer, Benedict let his smile grow.

"I have prepared some entertainment for us this evening," he continued, finally relinquishing her to address the rest of his guests. "I thought I would give you a day to settle in before I forced my games on you all," he added with a chuckle. "Our wizened guests are free to stay here and enjoy more food and drink, of course. But for our younger guests, I have prepared an excursion of sorts. And, if I may be so bold, I have arranged groups of three for this event. I will read out the pairings now."

Lifting the piece of parchment, he began to call out names.

The groupings were reasonable – families together, couples placed with a spinster or older bachelor of relative youth and ability. He read out the names of Lady Harwood, Lady Selina, and Lord Windham, the next trio assigned to the activity.

He lifted his gaze a little, seeking out Thalia's reaction. He could see her confusion. She, no doubt, had expected him to place himself in Selina's group.

But he was one step ahead of her. Even if he had tried, Thalia would have found a way to swap herself into their group. Or, at least, would have made enough of a fuss as to ruin his fun.

So, he was going to have some fun with Thalia. After all, this was a perfect opportunity to win her over. He would guide her about the manor in pursuit of entertainment, all the while, tearing down her walls, piece by piece.

He read out the members of the last group: "Lady Thalia, Lord Griffiths, and I shall make up the final team," he proclaimed.

Waiting a moment, he played with their anticipation. Then, laughing, he added, "have I not mentioned? We are to have a treasure hunt."

Chuckles filled the room in appreciation. After informing them of the loose rules of the task, Benedict raised his hands and proclaimed the game begun.

With smiles and eager conversation, the parties began to disburse around the house, looking for the objects that Benedict had described.

Making his way over to his own group, Benedict offered Lord Griffiths a nod. "Lord Griffiths, do you feel properly prepared for our game?" he asked the man knowingly, referring to his empty drink.

Taking his meaning, the man hurried off to get another cup. Lady Thalia raised an unappreciative eyebrow. "He has already had more than enough drink," she informed him quietly.

Benedict chuckled. "This is a party, or have you forgotten, Lady Thalia? I mean for my guests to enjoy themselves. I would otherwise be a poor host, would I not?"

"Such an indulgent host," Thalia replied, "would have placed himself in the same group with my sister."

She eyed him carefully. Once again, Benedict admired her sharp wit. "Why are you not with Lady Selina?" she asked.

"Ah, you are curious, are you not?" He paused, savoring the apprehension on her features. "Fear not. I have no wicked intentions. I simply acknowledge that you take priority tonight."

He was rewarded with a delicious flush as Thalia took a moment to compose herself. She was not expecting such a response, clearly. Nor, he guessed, was she used to being prioritized. "Why is that?" she asked faintly.

"Because you must be won over if I am to court your sister. It is your approval that I must garner, first and foremost."

Again, Thalia seemed to be at war with herself. Though she fixed him with a defiant stare, her blush continued to give away her secret delight. "You should know," she informed him, "that you will never be able to do such a thing."

Benedict chuckled as Lord Griffiths joined them. "The theme of tonight is games, Lady Thalia. And I do not enter into any competition that I cannot win."

He turned, gesturing for Lord Griffiths to go ahead. As Thalia passed close, he lowered his voice, dropping his lips to her ear. "I must warn you," he added, "that I can be very persuasive."

Trailing a finger down her neck, he was pleased as Thalia let out a little gasp. It was thoroughly satisfying to watch her momentarily lose control of herself.

But they were still in the presence of others. Now was not the time to test the limits of what Thalia's propriety could take.

The trio left the room and stepped out into the hall. Lord Griffiths still led the way, though somewhat staggering as he went, while Benedict fell into step beside Thalia.

When he glanced down at her, he found her regarding him thoughtfully. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

"I was thinking of how very little you and my sister must have in common," she observed.

He could not help but chuckle. "You sound entirely confident in that assertion. How do you know it is true? What is it that you really know about me, Lady Thalia?"

This gave her pause. She reached out to inspect a nearby candelabra. The first of the clues that Benedict had given his guests was to look for something to "light their way". He intended for each successive clue, if riddled correctly, to eventually lead one lucky group to a treasure hidden within the manor.

"How do you feel about painting?" Thalia asked, setting down her object, no closer to puzzling out his clue.

"Painting? Do you mean the act itself, or the appreciation of someone else's work?"

"Both."

Benedict thought for a moment. "I am rather unskilled at painting, myself, but I admire the art with which it can be done. I seek to surround myself with works which are far greater than I could ever achieve."

Thalia glanced up at him, the briefest hint of surprise flickering over her face.

"Have I surprised you?" Benedict mused, moving to follow Lord Griffiths into the next room.

This, Thalia did not answer. "What of literature?" she pressed, joining him and Lord Griffiths as they ventured into the study. She glanced around, clearly curious as to what sort of books the duke valued enough to stock his private collections with.

"What of it?"

Thalia shot him a glare.

Again, Benedict grinned. "You must be more specific in your questions if you wish to understand me," he reasoned.

Thalia moved to inspect the nearest shelf of books. Her next series of questions came fast, and Benedict answered them just as quickly. "Do you have an interest in reading?"

"Yes."

"What type of novels?"

"As we established before, I enjoy poetry. Though you do not seem to think that I am capable of such an appreciation," he added, remembering that first walk in the park with the Fletcher sisters.

This, too, Thalia disregarded. "What else?"

"Anything which might help me manage my estate better," he replied. "Literature which explores business and economics. As well as that which reminds me of my travels."

At this, Thalia's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "Your travels?"

Here was genuine interest. "Ah, I am afraid I cannot say more. Not until I know whether you have yet found much in common between myself and your sister."

With her mouth opening and closing, Benedict already knew his answer. "You both are similar in these interests," she murmured, not meeting his gaze. "But a life cannot be built simply on shared hobbies."

"True. But it is a good place to start, is it not?"

"Lord Griffiths is getting ahead of us," she replied, simply turning and stalking away after the older man.

Benedict watched her go with pleasure. Not only because she had been unable to find fault with his statement, but also because of how enjoyable it was to watch her retreat. A thin waist, leading down to the luscious, tender flesh of a world Benedict could only imagine beneath those heavy skirts was enough to quicken his pulse.

Readily, he followed after her.

Thalia was ready to throw something at the duke. He was outwitting her, delighting in her failures to dissuade him from courting her sister.

But he was not playing fair. Every time Thalia stopped to think over something he said, he would point out that she should be looking for the treasure. Then, even as she looked, he would pester her with statements that made her shiver with something surprisingly close to anticipation.

As Lord Griffiths wandered on ahead, she bent down, hitching at the waist, to retrieve a small slip of parchment that she spied underneath a chair. She straightened up only to glance back and see that Benedict had been watching her every move from behind.

Meeting her gaze, he grinned. "I shall have to drop things more often," he mused, his eyes flashing.

The duke chuckled as Thalia sputtered and stormed out of the room. She would never have dared admit that such a comment not only made her face and chest hot but stirred something far more dangerous and hungrier between her legs.

Before long, Thalia's head spun with both heat from inside the manor and heat that the duke continued to stir within her. She was more than happy to join Lord Griffiths as he suggested the group move outside for a moment, to get some fresh air.

Benedict held open the door as they made their way out into the evening. The sun had only just set, but already, the path around the manor was alight with candles.

"Is this part of the treasure hunt?" Thalia asked, eyeing the darkened garden maze on the other side of the path.

"Not really." He looked around. "I asked the servants to light up this inner path as a red herring. Or, in case someone needed some fresh air," he added, noticing that Lord Griffiths was already asleep on a nearby bench.

The man was undoubtedly a drunk. But he was wealthy and of high social standing. It never hurt to ply him with a few drinks at a house party and leave him to enjoy himself.

Thalia followed Benedict's gaze. He enjoyed watching her hesitate, realizing that, for all intents and purposes, she was now alone with the duke.

But she surprised him with what she asked next. "Have you traveled much, Your Grace?"

The sincerity in her eyes was arresting. Here, finally, was a point of genuine interest between them. "Do you ask," he mused, "for the sake of your sister's common interests with my own? Or, perhaps, to satisfy your own curiosity?"

Thalia ducked her head, caught out. "My sister is well-read and knows many things about many places. But her interests lie more in her home country."

"But you wish to travel?"

She nodded. "I know I shan't. But I should at least like to know a little of the places I shall never visit. What they eat, how they speak, what pastimes occupy their days."

"And you would allow yourself to stoop to hearing about my travels?" Benedict probed, an amused smile fighting at his lips. "How do you know that I will not recount the most scandalous tales to you? I could tell you much of the pleasurable underbelly of the continent," he added, taking a step closer to her.

It was too easy. A slight blush crept up her cheeks. But, to his surprise, Thalia did not move away. "I want to know," she insisted. "Not of your nefarious deeds, but of the places you visited. I…" she hesitated. "I should like to envision them. The books I have read paint little of the true spirits of the countries they speak of. France, Italy…" she gestured at the darkened night sky. "They must be so different from here," she added quietly.

"You wish you were there instead of here?"

Benedict expected her to refute such a statement. Or, at the very least, to inform him that it was none of his business.

But Thalia hesitated, her eyes seeing something played out before her that Benedict could not. He wondered faintly if she was thinking of the hushed conversation she had shared with her sister earlier.

"In travel, one is able to shake off the responsibilities of normal life," she informed him thoughtfully. She continued to stare at the air before her, her brow furrowed. "A person is able to become someone else."

When Benedict did not respond, Thalia glanced up at him. She seemed embarrassed now. As if she had said too much. "We should keep looking for your treasure," she muttered, already turning back to the manor.

But Benedict reached out and caught her arm. "It can wait." His voice was intentionally gentle. There was something in her eyes, a downheartedness, that he did not like. He would rather it be filled with her usual hatred of him than this pitiable hopelessness. Something in him wanted desperately to wipe it from her features.

"In France, I tasted the best freshly baked bread I have ever had."

A little taken aback, Thalia turned to face him. "Oh?"

He nodded. "It was warm and when I broke the loaf open, steam rose from inside. But the scent of it far surpassed anything I'd known before. There was a sweetness to it, but also a strong yeasty tang that I could not quite place. You would think that it would ruin the taste but, somehow, it made the sweetness of the bread all the more satisfying."

"I loved the Italian language the best," he continued, watching Thalia's eyes open in wonder. "Most love French – and it is quite a melodic sounding language – but Italian captured the heart of the people. It was earthy and genuine, and I couldn't help but sit and listen when I heard it spoken."

"What else?" Thalia breathed, entirely enrapt.

There, with that expression, and the rising moonlight spilling across her dark hair, Benedict was nearly overcome with the desire to touch her. To run his hands along her slender form. To introduce her to a world she could easily experience here and now; a new, carnal world of pleasure and exploration. And she would wear that entrancing, eager expression all the while.

But strangely, the duke resisted. "The lands were entirely different from ours. The trees, shrubs, animal life. Italy was hot and heady. Everywhere I went in the south of France, I seemed to smell grapes, ripe on the vine. Though," he joked, "that could have been the wine I seemed to always be drinking."

To his utter delight, Thalia chuckled. But a moment later, her brow furrowed; she was once again thoughtful. "If I were my father's son, I should have taken a Grand Tour. I could have experienced all that you describe. Perhaps if I had married, my husband would have shown me such places…"

She sighed. "But even if that were the case, the truth is, I still would not have left home."

"Why is that?"

Thalia was looking away again. As if it were easier for her to speak such things without meeting his gaze. "My sister. And my father. When my mother passed, she left behind so much undone. If I had gone away and left Selina to fare for herself, or left my poor father to tend to duties that never suited him, they should have been crushed under the responsibilities."

Benedict now frowned. "So you took on those obligations?"

Thalia nodded, shrugging slightly. "I had to. I was the only one who could. My father could not be expected to raise daughters on his own. Nor to find Selina a good match. One which would see her secure and cared for, for the rest of her life. Nor could my father be expected to run the estate on his own. He is too kind, too gentle-hearted. He could not make the difficult decisions that are required of an earl."

Was that not exactly what was expected of an earl? Benedict's frown deepened. He had observed Thalia in her father's study, of course, but he had not suspected that she was in charge of so much of her father's work. That, in addition to caring for her sister, was indeed a great burden.

Once again, Thalia had surprised him. She had shown him another side of her that Benedict had never seen.

Thinking this over, Benedict began to walk along the far side of the path, toward the darkened gardens. Thalia fell into step with him. "You have certainly experienced much at home," he mused, eyes wandering over his shadowy estate. "More than most women your age."

Thalia sighed. "I have said too much. You do not care to hear of such dismal self-indulgence."

"Not at all. It has been wonderful to see that even such a perfect, irreproachable lady as yourself can sometimes have her doubts."

"You tease me."

Benedict grinned. When he cast a glance at her, Thalia seemed to be fighting a smile. He quirked an eyebrow. "Me? Tease you? I've never done such a thing in my life."

"Well at least I am not making such a thinly veiled attempt at impressing my guests at my own party," she retorted, though it lacked the vehemence of her other previous denouncements.

"What do you mean?"

Thalia smirked. "You evidently wish to show off your enormous manor and the vast number of possessions to the guests of your house party. Why else would you send them parading through your manor on such a childish errand?"

Laughing, Benedict shrugged. "If you are determined to think ill of me, Lady Thalia, then you will see corruption and danger in every one of my actions."

Thalia scoffed. "I only see what is painfully obvious."

The duke was enjoying himself thoroughly. They had wandered off the lit path a little, the full moon rising on the horizon providing them with enough light to see by.

As they approached the beginning of his hedge maze, Benedict paused. The manor was a little way behind them now. And only Lord Griffiths joined them outside, some way away and fast asleep.

He turned to face Thalia, a devious idea playing on his mind. His palms itched with a growing craving. When he spoke, his voice was different. Low and husky. "I suppose then, only one option remains open to me."

"What is that?" Thalia eyed him cautiously, seeing the change in his manor. He smiled. A game of his own had just begun.

"If you insist that I am a rogue," he murmured, stepping closer, "then I must show you the benefits of knowing such a scoundrel."