Chapter 14
Norton held the fireplace poker as if he meant to ram it through Ben's gullet. The former vicar looked wild, not at all his tame, quiet self. His knuckles on the handle shone bone white, and the slap of the poker's steel across his palm every three seconds or so echoed in the study where they'd met after Ben had dried himself off and found new clothes.
"You will do the gentlemanly thing, Mr. Bailey." Each word unmoving and hard like a damn boulder in the middle of the road. No getting around them.
"You're making assumptions, Norton." Correct ones, but Ben would rather dive off a cliff than disparage Prudence's name and reputation.
"You were locked in a boathouse with her. Alone. For quite some time. And when I arrived, I heard…" He blushed, looked away, the poker taking up a home in his palm.
"You heard nothing, and I'll call you out if you say otherwise."
"You'd fight me?"
"I'd put a bullet right between your eyes."
Norton turned with a sigh and relinquished the poker to its rightful place fireside. "What are your intentions toward Lady Prudence?"
"Same as they have been." Not true. But again, some information did not need to be public. Especially since his intentions were now exactly what everyone had always thought them to be. Except, of course, Prudence's brother. Ben shifted from foot to foot. That would be an unfortunate tangle to unravel. But he'd do it. "What are your intentions toward your wife?"
Norton's eyes turned to marbles. "Your situation has nothing to do with my marriage. You're evading—"
"And so are you. Her. You've spent perhaps two days with her since I've been here. Who knows how many nights, or—"
"This is not about me, damn you!" Norton roared. He took three rage-fueled steps forward, stopping before Ben with fisted hands and a ticking jaw.
"It is about you." Ben nudged Norton out of the way and took a chair near the fireplace, settling one ankle over the other knee and relaxing into the cushions. "Because I intend to keep my wife pleased. And her happiness, apparently, depends on the happiness of your wife."
"You're not even married."
"Yet. Now, I'm not the man to keep Lady Norton happy, but you"—Ben let his gaze trail up and down Norton's frame—"supposedly are."
Norton snorted and stomped toward the windows. When he got there, he raked both hands through his hair before letting his arms drop heavy at his sides. "She's not happy? Lady Prudence said that?"
Ben remained silent. No reason to rub salt in the wound.
"I've been busy," Norton said. "It takes more time than I ever thought to be a viscount, to run an estate." He turned and leaned against the window frame as he studied Ben. "You'll understand one day."
"Hopefully not for a damn long time. But even then, I'll not ignore my wife."
"You don't know. You—"
"I know what I want, Norton, and no matter how my name changes, my heart won't. I know you were married under difficult circumstances, but you must at least try."
"Like you have tried to keep Lady Prudence pristine."
"I will strangle you, Norton. Remember that." Ben leaned forward, clasped his hands together. "What is it you want from Lady Norton? A body to bear you an heir? A companion? A friend? An enemy?"
"I don't know what I want." Norton scrubbed his palms down his face. "I don't know. I was a vicar because I had to be. No other options. And then I was a viscount because others died. And then I got married because I must."
"And in all of that you never knew desire?" Ben stood, stalked toward the other man. "None of it drove you? Boiled purpose in your blood?"
Norton met Ben's gaze with empty eyes and a slack jaw, with stooped shoulders and a curved spine. "Can't say it has." A pause. Then a snap in his body, spine straightening, shoulders pushing back until he stood taller. "Except for once."
"Then cling to that. Because a man with no purpose or desire can't begin to know how to make a woman happy."
"And how would you know, Bailey?"
Ben smirked, slapped Norton in the shoulder. "If I told you, I'd have to call you out and sometimes, in some lights, I like you too well to do that."
A knock on the turn, brief and precise before the door flew open.
And Lady Templeton stormed in. She stomped right up to him, a marshal gleam in her eye. "What have you done to Lady Prudence? And do not feed me lies Mr. Bailey. I recognize that glassy look in her eye. She's been good for nothing since returning from the boathouse. Cheeks red as can be. Only one thing puts that sort of flush there." She poked Ben's shoulder. "What are your intentions?"
Ben sighed. "Am I never to escape that infernal question? You need not browbeat me, Lady Templeton. Norton has been doing a fine job."
"Have I?" Norton asked. "I rather thought you were the one browbeating me."
Ben shrugged. "When a fellow needs it—"
"You need it." Lady Templeton poked Ben's shoulder once more. "What did you do to her?"
Ben grinned. "We-ell…"
Lady Templeton waved her hands between them. "No, no. I do not need the details. But answer me this: What do you intend to do about it? Once a man puts such a dreamy gaze into a lady's eyes, he must make good on it or break her heart. And I'll not have that. None of us will. And you should know better than to make an enemy of us." That us rang like a church bell through the room, pealing with heavy finality. She did not mean the ton. She meant the ladies who had assembled at Norton Hall this week. A very select group of women who had taken it upon themselves to protect the Duke of Clearford's sister. And any other young lady such as Lady Norton who fell under their wide wings.
Ben softened his expression, and he held his palms up to show he meant no harm. The exact opposite, in fact. "I appreciate you, Lady Templeton. I appreciate what you have been doing with Lady Prudence and Lady Norton and however many others you have included in your little… select group or club or whatever you call it."
"What are you talking about?" Norton asked. "What club?"
But the words were like a fly buzzing about Ben's ear, and he waved them away. "I have nothing but good intentions toward Lady Prudence." He'd certainly never intended to hurt her. And now he wanted… he wanted… "I desire nothing but Lady Prudence's happiness. To be the cause of it."
At some point during his speech, Lady Templeton's face had gone slack, her mouth dropping slightly open, her eyes going more than slightly round. She took one small step away from him, her hand clutching in her skirt. She snorted, a tiny noise, and looked away from him. How had he annoyed her?
"Is every gentleman in London to know about our books, then?" She gave another little snort. "It used to be a simple enough concept to keep quiet. If one reads naughty books and discusses them, one keeps such activities secret." She threw her hands in the air, waved them about wildly. "With all these young ones falling in love, they think they can tattle and prattle as much as they wish."
"Books?" Norton said. Ben said it, too. In fact, they said it at the exact same time, and then also together: "What books?"
Lady Templeton froze, then like an iceberg turning on the water, she shifted with miniscule movements to look at them over her shoulder. Slowly, the rest of her body followed so she faced them entirely, clasping her hands before her. "I thought you knew. What exactly… do you know? About our… what did you call it? Group? Club?"
"I was under the impression," Ben said, "that you and the other older matrons of the ton were educating young motherless girls on what it means to be a married woman."
"That's right," Lady Templeton said, but the words came out higher than her usual voice and forced, as if the words had stuck in her throat. "Yes, quite right. An educational endeavor." Her voice came out more naturally that time as she lifted her chin and sailed for the door. "Have a lovely afternoon, Mr. Bailey, Lord Norton. We'll see you at dinner, I suppose."
Norton got to the door before her, put his body directly in her path. "What books?"
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, Norton's question wavering into the past. Books, books, books. And scandal. And Prudence's sister, Lady Charlotte. And Lord Noble's insistence that a particular book discovered on Lady Charlotte's person in Hyde Park actually belonged to him. But had it? Had they tricked everyone?
Ben started to laugh. Between great guffaws, he managed to say, "Lady Charlotte's scandal. It was her. The whole time." He bent double, resting shaking forearms on trembling knees. "And everyone b-believed it." Oh God, he was going to laugh himself right into a fetal position on the rug.
Lord Norton's voice tried to cut through his hilarity. "Do you mean the book discovered in Hyde Park last Season belonged to Lady Charlotte, and not to her husband, as was claimed?"
Still Ben laughed. How could he not? That was the secret they'd been hiding? He'd thought himself so clever, figuring it out without Prudence discovering a thing. And he'd been all wrong. He laughed harder.
What a bloody magnificent group of women.
"Do all of you," Norton asked, his voice low and hard, "assembled here this week read these books?"
Lady Templeton sighed, a choppy thing, as if cut in half by a kitchen knife. "Yes, in fact, we do. And I seem to be the one who has given away the secret this time." Another sigh, longer this time, before she grumbled, "I'm just going to go jump in the lake now." She reached for the door handle again.
Ben stopped her, reaching out to brush her arm. "No, no. It's fine. No more lakes. At least not today."
"Would you jump in to save me?" She scowled, her dark brows striking toward one another.
"Likely, and I'm still not recovered from the first unnecessary attempt." Still his belly shook with mirth.
She continued glaring, and he tried to stop laughing. Impossible.
"Then she knows everything?" Norton asked. The quality of doom in his voice killed Ben's laughter, so he could finally pull in a deep breath and stand up straight. Norton seemed to sink into the ground, though. "She knows everything I do not. God. She must be laughing at me." He shook his head slowly. "What stories she must have told you." He spit each poisoned word.
"What are you rambling on about?" Lady Templeton demanded.
"Cora!" Norton cried. "Cora who knows, knows absolutely everything about how a man and a woman… about ways to take pleasure… because she's read every damn book on the subject! And me. Ha." That single bark of laughter, bitter and black. "God, you all must be laughing at me."
"Do calm yourself, Lord Norton," Lady Templeton said. "I'm afraid I do not understand anything you are saying. The only one laughing here is your friend Mr. Bailey. And frankly his behavior, annoying as I find it, is more becoming at this moment than yours."
Norton stormed into the hallway behind him. Ben and Lady Templeton followed.
"Where are you going?" Lady Templeton called after him.
"London." Norton marched up the stairs. "Mother Circe's Nunnery. For an education to match my wife's." His words remained, echoing after he disappeared.
"Hell," Ben hissed.
"A brothel?" Lady Templeton exchanged a worried look with Ben. "An exclusive one, but still."
"Where's Lady Norton?" He grasped the newel post and tapped his foot. "Maybe she can talk her husband out of this nonsense."
"She and Prudence went for a walk. It was on Prudence's schedule, but the others and I did not wish to go. They should have been back half an hour ago for tea."
"Also on the schedule?"
Lady Templeton nodded. "She's never late."
"Of course not."
"But I think they wanted some time to speak alone. About young girl things, you know."
"I haven't the foggiest, Lady Templeton, but I do know that Lady Norton needs to be here. Now."
"Because her husband seems to have gone quite mad."
"I'll go after him, and you go after them."
They parted ways, and Ben bounded up the stairs after Lord Norton, found the man's bedchamber door wide open. The viscount had thrown open a trunk and was tossing various items of clothing inside.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ben rested his palms on either side of the door frame and watched the restless viscount bounce about the room.
"I already told you."
"I thought our earlier conversation, before Lady Templeton's revelation, had helped you discover what it is you want. And I thought, a supposition gleaned from your reactions and mannerisms, that the one thing you realized you wanted was your wife. Did I misjudge the situation? Or do you possess so little steel in your spine that a little detail about the type of books your wife enjoys reading can send you running like a coward?"
Norton swung on Ben, a shirt balled in his fist. "Cora is the first and only woman I have lain with. Seven and twenty years alive, and a virgin. How do you like that, Bailey?"
Ben's eyes popped open wide.
Norton growled.
"Sorry." Why were mouth muscles so difficult to control? He ran his hands down his face to pull down the corners of his lips. Not funny. Couldn't laugh. "I think it's a bit more than I wish to know about you, to be honest." There, he'd said that with a straight face.
"Do you know how many times we have slept together?"
"Again"—Ben propped a shoulder against the frame and settled in—"too much information."
"Once. First, I was waiting for her to be comfortable with me. And then when she indicated she might be ready, she began her courses. And then"—Norton flung a greatcoat over his shoulders and stuffed his arms inside—"it was… tepid at best. I didn't wish to scare the girl." He froze, his gaze targeting his boots. "I wanted her so badly. Was sure I would terrify her with my need." A harsh, brittle bark of laughter. "I bored her instead. This is all my fault."
"Not necessarily. Takes two, and all that." Sounded damning though. Ben might run off to a brothel, too if he thought he'd bored Prudence senseless during their interlude. Not a chance, though. Lady Templeton said he'd put a glassy look in her eye. No matter her reading preferences, he'd pleased her. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and straightened the sleeve of his coat, all with a little, impossible-to-control grin.
Norton scowled at him.
No time for preening, then. Ben cleared his throat as Norton threw more items of clothing into the trunk and slammed it closed. He yelled for his valet.
Ben rubbed his ear. "There are more productive means of calling the servants."
Norton yanked the bellpull so hard it fell from the ceiling. He cursed, then stormed from the room.
"Similarly unhelpful," Ben said with a wince, eyeing the now useless bellpull before following Norton downstairs.
Norton bellowed for his butler. "I'm going out. Have the trunk in my room delivered to London as soon as possible." He disappeared outdoors and toward the stable.
Ben trailed after him at a more sedate pace. Nothing he could do to stop the man other than physically restraining him. Or going after him. But that would mean leaving Prudence. Soon, a galloping horse appeared—Norton atop, greatcoat flapping in the wind—whooshed across Ben's vision, and disappeared down the drive.
"No hat." Ben scratched his neck. The storm had fully passed, and the sky spread bright blue above him, tinted yellow in the warm glow of the hot sun. "His face is going to be bright red before he reaches London. Hell. What a muddle." And how unhappy would Lady Norton be when she returned home to find her husband gone, having run off to a London brothel? And then what would Prudence think?
Prudence. He understood her better now. Not only the books, which were a kind of education if you considered it that way. And why not? But what they'd shared in the boathouse. He knew where to touch her to make her cry out. And he knew what made her heart cry, too. A heavy responsibility to know so much about a person. One that could rearrange a world, dislodge a man's purpose, and send it spinning into space.