Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

" A pleasure to see you, Lady Selina." Benedict flashed her a winning smile as he bowed. "I had hoped you might be in attendance tonight."

As the younger sister smiled up at him, Benedict relished the contrast in her older sister's grimace. And as soon as Thalia had spotted him, he had watched her war with a series of emotions – none of them good. But he had also spotted the crimson blush that had spread across her features as he bid her good evening.

A challenge, Samuel had said. Thalia most certainly was.

"I am glad to see you as well, Your Grace," Selina replied. "Are you looking forward to the performance?"

"Indeed. Though I would enjoy it far better, I think, if I could view it in the company of such a lovely companion," he replied smoothly.

"Good evening, Your Grace," came a new voice. An older man moved to join them and, as he drew closer, Benedict recognized him.

He offered the man a bow. "Lord Windham, a pleasure to see you again. It has been some time, has it not?"

The older man nodded. "I am certain it has. I do not venture forth from the estate these days as often as I was wont to do. Thankfully I can count on my girls to look after one another." He shot them a fond smile before returning his attention to Benedict. "Did I hear that you are in need of company tonight? I am sure you have better offers, but we would be delighted if you would join us in our box."

Out of the corner of his eye, Benedict saw Thalia stiffen. He fought a smile. "I would be honored, Sir. Yours is by far the best invitation I could have asked for."

As Selina's grin widened and Benedict offered her his arm, he caught Thalia's hurried whisper to her father.

"Why have you invited him?" she hissed.

"Did you not say that you wanted Selina to be introduced to suitors tonight? His Grace is by far the best suitor she could hope for." Lord Windham sounded proud of himself. "I have made up for forgetting to invite Lord Mayton, have I not?"

Benedict did not hear Thalia's reply, if there was one.

Poor Lord Windham. He had no idea, it would seem, how strongly his eldest daughter disapproved of Benedict.

Together, the little group found their way to the family's box. Lord Windham took a seat first and Benedict noticed that Thalia watched him carefully, stepping forward to catch his arm as he hesitantly lowered himself into the chair.

"Your Grace, have you been to the theater often?"

When he turned to face her, Selina was staring up at him with those wide, iridescent eyes. Benedict smiled, enjoying what he saw. He did not have to look around to know that there would be several other pairs of eyes on her, admiring her from afar.

"I have not been nearly as often as I should like," he replied. "But perhaps, with more inviting company, I may be tempted to attend more regularly."

"You flatter me," she giggled. "How is it that you are so quick with so sweet of praise?"

"I would imagine he has had much practice," murmured Thalia, to Benedict's right. She was standing beside her father but watching her sister and the duke like a hawk.

"A man may practice his speeches all he likes," Benedict quickly replied. "But they always sound false and insincere when he tries to repeat them. That is why I prefer to be led to speak in the spirit of the moment. If I wax poetic, Lady Selina, it is merely because your beauty inspires me to it."

"You have said that my sister is beautiful," Thalia added, still watching him carefully. "But what else, may I ask, do you admire about her?"

"Well, I am certain I should admire a great many things, but I have not yet had the chance to be properly acquainted with all of her amiable qualities." Benedict continued to speak directly to Selina, addressing nothing of his speech to her older sister. "What should I know about you, Lady Selina?" he continued. "At our last meeting, I learned that you are fond of music. Particularly the piano."

"And we decided that you were in favor of duets," Selina added with a giggle.

"Indeed." Benedict did not need to look at her to know that Lady Thalia was bristling at the reminder of their day at the park. "What of literature? What might a cultured woman such as yourself desire to read?"

Selina thought for a moment. "I do not prefer to read novels so much as I love to read and write letters. I am a great enthusiast when it comes to correspondence. Letters, I believe, offer great insight into the person who has written them. Things far more intriguing and delicious than may be found in most novels."

Benedict chuckled. It was indeed a good answer. And told him that she, like he, enjoyed a bit of gossip now and then.

"And you, Your Grace? What do you enjoy?" Selina asked.

"I enjoy poetry," he replied.

Instantly, there was a muffled snort of derision to his right.

Finally, he turned to her. "Do you not share in my interest, Lady Thalia?"

Thalia held his gaze. "I find it difficult to imagine you reading poetry, Your Grace. One would think you might find it inferior. After all, is not a poem a prepared speech? Removed from the muse that inspired it the moment it is set on paper."

She was quick. Quick indeed. Benedict allowed the flicker of a smile to play on his lips. Finding it difficult to look away from her, Benedict watched her for a moment longer before forcing his gaze back to Selina. Though the younger woman seemed ill at ease with her sister's intrusion into their conversation, she did not seem overly astonished at Thalia's words.

It would seem that Thalia had already made her dislike of the duke known to her sister. But the smile that Selina turned upon Benedict told him that she shared none of her sister's apprehension.

Already summing up a retort for Thalia, Benedict was cut short as the crowd around them fell silent. The performance was about to begin.

Selina took a seat to Benedict's right, next to her father. Moving to sit next to her, Benedict nearly collided with Thalia as she slipped into the seat beside her sister a moment before he could.

"Thalia," Selina hissed, seeing what had happened, "what are you doing?"

To Benedict's surprise, Thalia faked ignorance. "You know my eyes are weak, Selina. I need to sit closer to the stage to be able to see."

Selina made as if to stand. "Well then, you shall sit by Father, and I shall-"

"It is too late," whispered Thalia, pointing to the curtain that was now rising before them. "The play has started."

Forced to take the seat beside Thalia, Benedict noted the evident outrage on Selina's face as she could do nothing but turn to face the stage.

He, however, was not so displeased by this new arrangement. Tonight, if he was not mistaken, would be the night that he succeeded in making Thalia drop her delicious mask of composure. And he knew exactly how he would do it.

Selina was furious with her.

Thalia closed her eyes, already regretting having lied to her sister. But she could not allow the duke to sit next to Selina in such close proximity. Nor did she want Benedict to think that he had earned his way into courting Selina. Thalia intended to make it clear that she had not changed her mind. He would never lay a hand on her sister, not if she had any say in the matter.

But, as the play began, Thalia realized that her sister was not the only one in danger.

"You are far braver than you look." It was hardly more than a whisper, Benedict's breath hot on her cheek as he leaned over to murmur in her ear.

Thalia's voice caught in her throat at the sensation. "How so?" she managed to murmur in reply.

"No respectable woman would dare sit so close to a rake like me."

Thalia turned away slightly to hide her blush. "I am not afraid of you," she replied after a moment, having gathered herself once more. She did not like the effect his nearness was having upon her.

"Oh, are you not?"

"No. There is nothing you can do to me, or my sister for that matter, in such a crowded place as this."

"Is that so?" Leaning closer, Benedict's voice dropped so low that none but Thalia might hear. She sensed his body shift more than she saw it, drawing as close to her as he could without making contact.

"There are many things I could do to you," he continued, his voice low and velvety.

When she glanced down, she watched his hand twitch as it rested on his thigh. Frozen to her seat, Thalia found it difficult to breathe.

"Here, in this crowded theater, I could draw closer - just ever so slightly - so small a shift that no one else would notice. I could move my hand from my thigh," he continued, his hand twitching again, but remaining where it was, "and slowly, ever so slowly, place it on your knee."

Selina laughed. Jumping, it took Thalia a moment to realize that her sister was laughing at the play. Indeed, the whole theater was buzzing with chuckles and titters of amusement. But she and Benedict, it would seem, were in a world of their own.

Benedict continued, undaunted by the interruption. "I would shift again, forward, bending as if to inspect my shoe. But there I would wind my fingers under the hem of your gown, slipping my hand up and under so that you would feel the barest graze of my fingers on your ankle."

He chuckled. "I would sit up then, and my hand would follow, tucked beneath your dress, trailing along every delicious inch of flesh from your calf…to your knee…to your thigh."

Thalia trembled as she envisioned such a sensation. How could she not with the heat of his body so close to hers? Suddenly she was on fire.

"Gently," he hissed, "I would let my fingers roam further. Up your thigh."

Thalia couldn't breathe. Her body was reacting along with his words, sensations trailing up and down the places he spoke of as if he were truly touching her as he said.

But he would not stop. "I would follow the heat of you," he breathed, "up between your legs –"

Another laugh from the crowd nearly sent Thalia sprawling from her seat. Beside her, Benedict chuckled. When she risked a glance at him, she saw a dark amusement flashing in his eyes.

He was toying with her. Enjoying watching her squirm. Well, she would give him no such satisfaction.

"You wouldn't dare," she breathed.

"Wouldn't I?" He leaned close again. "If you are finding it difficult to envision what that might feel like, or you doubt the pleasure that my experience may afford you, you are welcome to pay me a visit and find out for yourself."

Once again, Thalia could not help but picture the secret, furtive acts with which the duke so casually mocked her. And a part of her – larger than she would have liked – did wonder just what sensations the man might elicit from her, if he could stir her into such a state with only his words?

In the next moment, she pushed such horrid thoughts aside. "I knew you were dangerous," she spat back. "I knew I could not trust you to be close to my sister. You are everything that they say you are."

"A cad? A rake?" he replied, no small hint of amusement in his voice. "Don't you see, Lady Thalia? Rakes make the best husbands. I would be perfect for your sister."

"I do not believe that for a moment."

"No? Allow me to explain." He paused, glancing out at the stage, that same self-satisfied smile still tugging at his lips. Thalia could see that her protestations had not affected him whatsoever. If anything, her arguments had only encouraged him.

"You see, I know how best to please a woman. I would be happy to show you, of course," he added with a chuckle. "But you would be selfish if you were to deny such pleasures to your sister. You wish for her to be cared for, do you not? In my care, I would show her how to indulge in her desires entirely."

He sat back a little. For the strangest reason, Thalia found herself a little disappointed that he had moved away, inviting space between them once more. Then, realizing this, she silently chastised herself. Whatever this duke was doing to her, it was not right. Nor could it be real.

"Lady Thalia, your sister need not fear me," he murmured, his eyes dancing over her to rest on Selina who was still wholly entranced by the performance. "Even if I were to do every roguish and depraved thing which you imagine I might do to your sister, I still plan to marry her. How could she be ruined if she still ended up a duchess at the end of the day?"

Then, just as Thalia had begun to relax a little, Benedict was close beside her once more. His lips teased her ears, his words awakening something frightful inside her. "You are the one who should fear me, Lady Thalia," he breathed. "For I could do all manner of things to you. I want to. You cannot begin to imagine the pleasure I would find in a woman like you. And though I would not marry you after, you would thank me for what I had done."

Thalia had never before felt more conflicted. Never more at war with the emotions that collided inside her. Nor could she explain the burning, throbbing heat that grew between her legs. The same sensation that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of Benedict's hands near the sensitive place between her thighs.

Not once in her life had a man expressed such a desire for her. It was intoxicating. The fervor in his words left no doubt as to what he wanted from her, nor could she argue away the intense yearning she heard dripping from his lips. In a deeply physical way, he wanted her.

But in the same breath as these heady promises, he degraded her. Cheapened her. Spoke of her in the same way that a man might address a woman of the night or pleasure for which he had just paid.

The concoction of sensations he stirred within her was truly upsetting. On the one hand, she could not deny that she felt powerful, hearing this handsome, desirable man speak of the ways in which he wanted her. But on the other hand, his words seemed to echo the secret, hateful voice within Thalia which told her she was not worthy. She was not enough. She had never been, nor would she ever be.

Gasping for air, the theater suddenly feeling too close and cramped, Thalia searched for an escape. This man was dangerous. Finally, she saw just how he had seduced and charmed his way through the ton . No wonder so many women fell for him – they simply could not help it.

But she could. Thalia closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily.

She would not be another woman used and cast aside by this powerful man. Though she was small and lowly in his eyes, she would not give him what he desired.

Surprising herself, Thalia leaned close to the duke, daring to draw even closer than he had. "I will not be another one of your wretched victims, Your Grace," she breathed in his ear. "Desire me as you wish, but you shall never have me."

Tantalizing. Benedict's blood ran hot as Thalia pulled away from him, turning back to the play. Her blush had displayed the effect his words were having on her, and she was not the only one who was aroused.

Blood pulsed downward, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. If he was not careful, his carnal interest in her would become evident to everyone around them.

But Thalia had ended their little game. It was clear that their discussion had ended.

For now.

He allowed himself a soft chuckle, shaking his head as his gaze wandered over her profile. A worthy competitor indeed. He had thought, for a moment, that he had won her over. He could sense her resolve wavering, her fa?ade about to crumble. But then, to his surprise – and indeed, his secret delight – she had turned the tables on him. Rejected his lascivious proposals.

For now.

Benedict would not deny that he was enjoying this. Deeply. No woman had ever been able to withstand his advances before. No woman had heard such words and not melted like honey in his hands.

If she had been obviously disgusted by him, of course, if she truly seemed uninterested, then he would certainly have let her be.

But he had seen it in her eyes. That first moment he had drawn close. Then, again, as he teased her with a tale of what he would do to her – something sure to bring an angry blush flooding over her cheeks. It had been a delicious attempt to scandalize her. And she had been scandalized. But she had not told him to stop.

This dance was not yet done. She would submit to him in the end. And, once she had, Thalia would see that he was a worthy husband for her sister. For more reasons than one. She would see what satisfaction he could provide a woman and would happily step back and allow the duke to make Selina his duchess.

The play continued, but Benedict watched distractedly, still enjoying his plans for the future. When the curtain finally fell, he stood and crossed to stand behind Selina's seat. "My Lady," he smiled, offering her his hand. "How did you enjoy the performance?"

"It was thoroughly amusing," she replied, eagerly taking his hand and allowing the duke to help her to her feet. "Was it not?"

"Indeed." He flicked a glance at Thalia. "I enjoyed it thoroughly." As Thalia ducked her head to hide an obvious blush, Benedict grinned. "I hope you will allow me to escort you to your carriage, Lady Selina."

"Certainly." Selina turned to her father. "We must invite His Grace for supper soon, mustn't we, Father? He has been so good to us this evening."

"No, indeed," Benedict assured them. "I have only done what any man might have done when given the opportunity to enjoy such sweet company."

"A humble reply," chuckled Lord Windham. "We would be most grateful to have you join us soon, for supper. I am sure Thalia can arrange the matter."

Taking a moment, Benedict considered this response. The man had so casually assumed that his eldest daughter would take such matters in hand. It was not an unreasonable request, but the confidence with which he had done it took Benedict a little by surprise. And, judging by the look on Thalia's face, she was not unused to such responsibilities.

"I should be honored to join you," Benedict said after a moment. "And who knows? Perhaps I shall find a way to repay the kindness of your invitation with one of my own."

Offering his arm to Selina, he cast a glance back at Thalia and saw exactly what he had hoped to see. The mask had slipped just a little at the fear of what the duke might be planning. Grinning, he turned back around. She had no idea what he was capable of. But she was about to learn.