Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

" I am here to see Lady Selina."

The Windham butler nodded and stepped aside, allowing Benedict entry into the manor.

Briefly, Benedict remembered the last time he had come here calling. The butler had forgotten about him entirely, leaving Benedict to wander around and, eventually, stumble upon Thalia in her father's study.

Forcing away the memory of their first kiss, Benedict now followed the older man into the drawing room. As Benedict glanced down the hall, seeing that the study was now empty, he briefly wondered where the other occupants of the house might be.

Perhaps Jerome would come and greet him. The man seemed more than happy to welcome Benedict into the family.

But would Thalia make an appearance?

Benedict realized that he was desperately hoping she would. He clenched his jaw, reminding himself of his conversation with Samuel. If he was to insist on keeping Thalia close, selfishly, then he would need to contain his desires.

I am not here to see her , he repeated himself. There was a bigger, more important reason for his visit today.

"I will fetch Lady Selina," the butler informed Benedict with a curt bow. Then, leaving the duke alone, the man left.

Benedict glanced around. He had inspected the contents of this room the last time he was here. As with the time before, his gaze landed on several volumes of poetry that lay on a nearby table. They were Selina's no doubt. Benedict made a silent note to quote Selina's favorite poem – the one she had read to him in the library during the house party – when she arrived. This, no doubt, would put her in a receptive mood. If she was not already overjoyed at his arrival.

Benedict did not have to wait long. "Lady Selina," the butler announced as the young, elegant woman swept into the room. Benedict stepped forward to take her hand, kissing it.

When he straightened up, he gave Selina his most winning smile. "Lady Selina, you grow more beautiful by the day."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Selina smiled up at him but, for a moment, Benedict wondered if her smile was a little more guarded than usual. She gestured for him to take a seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

So, straight to it. Benedict took a deep breath. As Selina sat on the settee, Benedict stayed standing. "Lady Selina, I fear that I have not been very clear regarding my intentions," he began. He had prepared this speech prior to coming here, but now Benedict was having difficulty getting the words out. His voice sounded strangely hollow in his ears.

"I have enjoyed spending time with you this Season," he continued. "And I have grown very attached to you, as I hope you have to me. You are a beautiful and knowledgeable woman, and I know you will make an excellent duchess."

Benedict took a stiff step forward, then dropped to a knee before her. He reached out to take her hand in his. "Lady Selina, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

A long silence stretched out between them. Benedict's smile wavered ever so slightly as Selina's eyes searched his.

Finally, with a shy smile, she spoke. "No. Thank you."

Benedict opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Shakily, he stood, his mind racing. "I, what?"

To his further astonishment, Selina chuckled. "I cannot marry you, Your Grace. But I am flattered by your offer. Thank you."

Still unable to believe what he was hearing, Benedict continued to stand before her. "Why?"

Selina gestured for him to sit. Numbly, Benedict settled down in the chair beside her. "You do not love me, Your Grace. Nor do I believe you ever could. I do not find myself able to form a deep attachment to you either. Once I had thought so, but now I see that we are too mismatched."

"We have much in common," Benedict replied. "Poetry, music, hopes for the future."

"Interests cannot build the base of love if there is no affection there to begin with," Selina replied gently. "And though we are cordial, I do not think that either of us could make the other happy."

"Marriage is not about happiness," Benedict began. "There is much more involved in the contract than such a fickle feeling. There are responsibilities, duties, civilities to be considered."

"And that is where you and I differ." Selina offered him a sad smile. "I hold a very different view of marriage." Selina stood, gently smoothing out her skirts as she turned back to face him. "I hope your marriage, whatever else it may be, will not be hampered by responsibility. I hope you will find love and joy in your future wife. But I am afraid that she will not be me."

Benedict was still having difficulty understanding what Selina was telling him. She was rejecting him because she did not love him? When had love been a consideration in such matters, save for the lucky few like Samuel and Nora?

Did she not know that he shared no such passions for her? And yet here he was, proposing to her, when his heart was with her sister.

Thalia.

"Your sister will have mixed feelings regarding the matter," he mused, testing her. Selina must be as aware as he of how much Thalia had initially despised him. But now that she had changed her mind about their marriage, Selina was rejecting him?

Benedict stood as Selina shook her head. "She is already aware of my feelings on the matter."

"She will already be looking for another suitor for you, no doubt," Benedict replied with some bitterness. Was this it? Was he now only to see Thalia at the Season's events, risking hurried glances at one another across the ballroom, or stealing a touch beneath the dining table? Selina was removing from him Benedict's last hope at living out his life in relative proximity to Thalia.

"She has relinquished that duty, thankfully," Selina replied, smiling to herself at something. Then, her smile faltered. "Though I am sure she would be willing to provide advice in our correspondence, should I request it."

Benedict's body responded to Selina's words before his mind had fully understood them. A cold, clammy chill wound up his spine like the fingers of some shadowy creature grown long and lanky at the bottom of the sea. "Correspondence?" he breathed.

Selina eyed him carefully. "Yes. She has taken leave of the house."

"She is going on holiday?" Benedict's voice was tight, stilted.

"No. She has gone to live elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Benedict took a step toward her, his fear mingling with rage. "And you did not think that this news was worth sharing?" he snapped.

Selina frowned. "With you?"

"Obviously," he barked, his emotions getting the better of him.

Selina's tone grew hard. "Why should you care?"

Benedict hesitated. Why indeed? "I was intending to propose to you. I was courting you. You do not think that a change in your familial situation would not be important for your future husband to know? Anyone might guess why she has suddenly disappeared. And they would think of the most nefarious reasons. If it was suspected that Lady Thalia had left because of an indecent situation or some scandalous affair, it would cast a shadow on my good name."

He was spouting nonsense, trying to cover up his outburst. But, all the while, his irritation grew. He was angry with Selina. He was angry with Thalia. Thalia had gone? How could she? How could she leave so suddenly? She had told him that she was going, but he had never expected her to actually do it, or to leave so quickly for that matter.

"I am hurt to hear that you think so little of my sister," Selina replied slowly. Her eyes were narrowed at him, her words sharp and biting. He had greatly offended her, that much was clear. "That you would even consider my sister capable of such things, or that anyone would suspect her of the slightest indecency, then you know nothing about her."

You know nothing about her, Benedict thought. What would Selina say if she knew what Benedict and Thalia had done together? If she knew the intimate, private encounters they had stolen in the dark of night?

"When did she leave?" Benedict asked, his tone far more demanding than he had intended. But he could not help it. There was an urgency to the matter that had gripped him entirely.

Selina's pitch rose. She, too, was riled up. Only it was him that she was furious with. "Why should it matter to you now? You need not fear any slight to your good name now that you are no longer courting me."

"Why should you withhold such information?" Benedict snapped back. "Or are you afraid that someone will find out that it was you who pushed her away? You and your father – making her do everything for you, everything that you yourselves are perfectly capable of doing."

Selina gasped and Benedict knew he had gone too far. He hardly knew what had prompted him to do it. He was a madman, all caution thrown to the wind.

He held up a hand. "Lady Selina, forgive me, I –"

"My sister has gone to stay on one of our father's estates," Selina said icily. "And you," she added, turning away, "will never find out where."

"Lady Selina, please, I did not mean –"

"I bid you good day, Your Grace," she added, cutting him off. Her back was to him now and she hesitated only a moment in the doorway. "I hope I will not see you back here anytime soon."

With a flick of her head, Selina strode out of the room.

Benedict swayed dangerously. His head spun. Thalia was gone. And he had no idea where.

He had been worried that Selina would marry another man, taking her older sister away from Benedict but now, now that was the preferable outcome. Then, at least, Benedict might see her about the ton . Then he might know where to find her.

But this…Benedict started out of the room. He found the front door and let himself out. He walked straight up to the carriage. "I am going for a walk," he informed his driver. "You may follow along behind me, but I shan't be stopping for some time."

The man looked at the duke in astonishment. "But, Your Grace, it is several miles back to the estate."

"I am well aware. Right now, I feel as though I could walk there and back again," he replied grimly. Then, before the man could say another, word, Benedict turned on his heel and started off.

Benedict needed to walk. His mind was full of far too many thoughts and he felt as if he might jump out of his skin with the number of emotions whirling around inside him. He needed to move. He needed to think. And he needed to figure out what he was going to do next.

The walk did not help. Benedict allowed himself to stalk along the road in his anger and confusion for nearly two miles before his driver nearly begged him to get into the carriage.

Then, the duke continued to fume all the way back to his estate. Once there, he leapt out of the carriage. Still angry, Benedict had at least come up with a plan. He strode toward the manor, intent on heading immediately into his study. Surely there was someone who had seen Thalia leave the ton . Someone else who would know where she had gone, even if her sister refused to tell him. He would write to every person in the ton if he had to, until he found her out.

She should have told him. That was what Benedict kept thinking, over and over. It was what stoked his anger and outrage even as he took the stairs up to the manor two at a time.

Thalia should have told him where she was going. How could she have told him that she loved him and then simply left? Did he get no say in the matter? Sure, he could not marry her, but did that mean that they had to be separated for the rest of their lives? Was he not owed some sort of goodbye or explanation?

The morning after the dance in the gardens, Thalia had all but snuck away with her family, heading home after the house party without so much as a "thank you". Benedict had caught wind of their departure only in time to watch the family's carriage disappear into the distance.

Even then, he now realized, Thalia was planning to disappear. Even then, she had made her decision.

But how could that be the right choice for her? What about her family? Surely Selina and Jerome were not fully in support of Thalia's leaving. Why Benedict had only glimpsed a portion of the responsibilities that Thalia had taken on for her family. Surely that was merely the tip of the iceberg of what she did for them. What would they do without her? How would they manage?

Benedict was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly ran head on into his mother who was stepping into the hall from the drawing room.

Marina glanced up at him first in surprise and then in something akin to concern. But Benedict knew it could not be that. "Benedict?"

"Not now, Mother," Benedict murmured, already brushing past her.

Her voice trailed after him. "Please, Benedict, I would like to speak with you."

His anger flared. Here she was, demanding yet another thing from him, not caring whether or not Benedict was prepared to give it. Could she not see that he was busy? Or did she simply decide that, because she wanted to speak now, it did not matter what he wanted. He spun back to face her. "I said, not now," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Marina's eyes widened. She looked him up and down. "Is…what has happened?"

"Do not trouble yourself," Benedict snarled.

"Something is clearly troubling you –"

"When have you ever cared about that?" he thundered, his body shuddering in anger. "Since when have you cared about what I felt or needed?"

Marina had no answer for this. Benedict turned around again, struggling to control his outrage. He had never raised his voice like this to her before. He had never wanted her to see how much she affected him.

He was already several steps away when Marina spoke again. And her words stopped him dead in his tracks. "Is this about Lady Thalia?" she asked quietly. Almost…knowingly.

Despite himself, Benedict slowly turned to face her once more. "What?"

Marina sighed. "I thought it might be."

Benedict hesitated. Then, taking several steps toward her, he once more towered over his mother. "What do you know?"

"I know that you have feelings for her." Marina looked up at him without fear, but there was an unmistakable sorrow in her eyes.

"I know you disapprove, so you can spare your breath. She is gone. She has left. You need not worry that she will tempt your son into any relationship that is not worthy of the family name, " he spat, enunciating the last few words as if they were tipped with poison and he were afraid to swallow any.

Marina frowned. "She has left?"

Benedict nodded. "Gone. And her sister will not tell me where she has gone to. Nor will Lady Selina marry me. She rejected my proposal this afternoon. I am sorry to disappoint you on that front, too."

Again, Marina sighed and glanced down. For a moment, Benedict thought she looked ten years older, worn and wearied by the world. "That is probably for the best."

"For the best?" Benedict all but shouted, his incredulity nearly making him laugh. The gall of this woman.

But Marina stayed silent for another moment. Finally, she met his gaze again. "I know you are angry with me. And you have every right. Will you…can I share something with you?"

Benedict scoffed. He readied himself to turn away without another word. And then he hesitated.

He did not know why – perhaps it was the look in her eyes or the tenderness in her voice – but he followed her as she turned and led him into the drawing room, even though he knew it would be a mistake to do so.

Marina settled into a chair, and Benedict sat down on the sofa in front of her. "When I met your father," she said after a moment, "I knew that I was going to have a difficult life with him."

Of all the things Benedict had expected, this was not it. He hesitated, waiting for his mother to continue.

"He was passionate and intelligent. Every woman in the ton wanted to have him to herself. When he set his sights on me, I knew that I would not refuse him. But I also knew that he did not truly love me."

Marina sighed. "He wanted me for my position and wealth. I suppose he found me attractive, too. But I loved him, you see. And I told myself that it would be enough, simply for me to love him. That my love would do the work for the both of us in our marriage. And, for a while, it was."

She glanced up at Benedict. "That was my mistake. To think that such a commitment would not take its toll. That such an arrangement could last. To live in a one-sided marriage was impossible. To love him without wanting his love in return was even more impossible. And he knew, though I never said anything, that I was disappointed in him."

"So we fought," she continued sadly. "You overheard many of those arguments, I fear, as a young boy. Your father came to resent my unspoken expectations of him, and I began to resent him because he could not feel for me the way I felt for him. This was the picture of marriage that we showed you. And it was a poor distortion of the real thing. A needy wife and a cold, distant husband."

Benedict frowned. His anger had somewhat cooled, but he still did not know what his mother intended to do by sharing such a thing. "I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you seem to think that my marriage – what I had with your father – is the fate of all those who marry for love. You saw us and somehow, as a young boy, you swore to yourself that you would never allow that to happen to you. You would never allow yourself to be bound to someone in such an unhappy, disappointing life."

Benedict stared at her in amazement. It was as if she were reading his mind. "I - how? How could you know?"

"You are my son." Marina's eyes filled with tears. "And even though I have been the worst of mothers to you, I know you, Benedict. I know the way you think and act. And I know how much your father and I hurt you when we hurt one another."

"But - but you mourned him," Benedict protested, trying to understand what she was saying and why. "You left me out of grief over him. For years . Yet you still resented him?"

"That is the twisted nature of the love I had for your father. And of what little affection he could offer me." Marina hung her head in shame. "I will never forgive myself for leaving you," she murmured, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "I put my own pain and hurt over yours, and I missed out on the joy of watching you grow; on the joy of watching you become the man you are today."

"A man like my father," Benedict replied ruefully. "You said once that you could hardly bear to look at me, I reminded you of him so much."

"In looks, you resembled him, yes." A renewed urgency seemed to fill Marina as she leaned forward toward him. "But you are not your father, Benedict. That is what you fear, is it not? That you will be the angry, distant man that he was, should you marry anyone you feel more than a detached familiarity for."

Benedict opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"You are not your father because I realize now that your father was not capable of the kind of selfless love that I so longed for. You are. Your marriage will not be my marriage," Marina pressed. "Because you love her. The woman you wish to marry, you love in the most genuine and lasting of ways. Truly."

"But Lady Selina –"

"I am not speaking of her, and I think you know that. I speak of Lady Thalia. It is she that you love is it not?"

Again, Benedict found himself asking the same question as before. "How did you know?" he breathed.

Marina smiled ruefully. "It is not difficult to see. I have watched the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you." She let out a low chuckle. "I am glad that Lady Selina has turned you down of her own accord. Or that she, too, has become wise to your true feelings. Otherwise, your behavior might have made her very jealous indeed."

Benedict searched his mother's face intently. "And you, you do not disapprove of her? You who pressed me so adamantly to marry a woman suitable of our status and name?"

Hanging her head, Marina shook it. "I am ashamed of how closed-minded I have been. I thought – if you were marrying only for convenience – that you had best marry someone of suitable station. But I did not know that you would find someone that you could love. I did not think that you would allow yourself to. I have made mistakes in my life – many of them – but I would be a fool to let you make the mistake of giving up marriage to a woman who loves you. A woman you love in return."

Sitting back, Benedict watched the last of his petty protests fall away. "What a fool I've been," he murmured. "A fool."

He saw it now, as clear as day. Benedict had been afraid. He had been afraid to be hurt, and unwilling to go after what he truly wanted. And all because of what? The ton's gossip? Ending up like the father he hardly knew as a child? He had surrounded himself with excuses so that, as his true feelings began to eat away at one, making him vulnerable to the truth, another falsehood could pop up in its place.

His mother had finally helped him see the shallow world in which he had been living. Now he was beginning to see the light. And it did not matter. He was too late all the same.

Benedict put his head in his hands. "And now I have lost her, Mother. I've lost her."

"Then you had better go get her back."

Benedict lowered his hands slowly, sitting back up. There was a confidence in Marina's voice that made him pause. "What?"

Marina shot him a self-satisfied smile. "You had better go and get her," she repeated. "As quickly as possible, I should think."

"But she –"

"Greenwood Manor is a lovely place, I have heard," she mused, still grinning. "I am certain your driver is familiar with its whereabouts."

Benedict's jaw fell open. "How -?"

"As soon as I heard that you were courting Lady Selina, I made inquiries after her family's financial situation. From that I learned that they have only one country estate – Greenwood Manor. If Lady Thalia has gone somewhere, it will be there."

In an instant, Benedict was on his feet. But before he could move, Marina reached out and caught his hand. When she spoke, her voice was thick with tears. "Forgive me, my son. I have a long way to go, if I am ever to earn back your good favor. But I will do whatever it takes. I love you. Dearly."

Wordlessly, Benedict stooped and kissed his mother's hand.

Then, with more purpose than he had ever felt before, he strode out of the room and toward the door. He knew where Thalia was. He would tell her everything. And he would pray that the was not too late.