Chapter Fourteen

Bloody, bloody hell.

When Marjorie walked out of his suite with tears in her eyes and resolution lining her face, Benedict's heart dropped into his stomach, and a sense of loss invaded his person, for he knew with absolute certainty she wouldn't return.

Fear had frozen him to the foot of his bed, and he didn't go after her as he should have. Had she been correct when she said he was lost in the past? That he was afraid of seeking out a future? The statement had merit, and if he'd been asked that a month ago, he would have agreed. But now? He wasn't so certain.

The time spent with her had done much to wrench him from those clinging shadows but as much as he was coming to care for her, life and fate were fickle. They could snatch her away without warning. What then? His heart would break a second time and that would surely finish him off. Which was why he'd fought so hard against falling in love with a woman again.

Yet it had happened anyway. Unexpectedly. Irrevocably. Powerfully. He should have confessed all of that when she'd been so upset, but ultimately, he was a coward.

Thunder boomed overhead. The lightning flashes were quite intense, and as the intensity of the storm pounded in a furious rage outside, it compelled him to do the same internally. Before he knew it, moisture filled his eyes, and all of a sudden, the bottled emotions bubbled up and through his chest, bringing a wave of heat with them, and he let them have at him.

It was long past time.

All the anger he'd held at his wife for leaving him with his own grief tore through his body as if he were at the heart of the storm. He silently berated both her and himself, for one of his traits was apparently loving too deeply. Then the anger turned to guilt for letting his son die and for not teaching him more about the dangers of pistols. That guilt expanded, for he'd ignored all the people in his life who were still around him, who he could have been living for. Then regret joined the miasma because he genuinely adored Marjorie, could possibly see his way into having her at his side for the rest of his life, but fear had kept him silent.

It hadn't mattered that he'd tried to protect his heart, for Marjorie had left anyway, and his heart was left shattered in a million pieces.

I've destroyed every good thing in my life simply for the fact that I haven't lived that life.

Before he had time to start tearing his room apart and breaking things in the stupid hope that destruction would relieve his feelings, an urgent knock sounded on his door. Thinking it Marjorie, he darted across the room and then wrenched the panel open. His heart plummeted a second time to find a footman standing in the corridor, his clothing wet and rumpled, his hair plastered to his head.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Lordship, but Trenton said in this instance I should come directly up."

Benedict frowned and made a gesture with his hand for the young man to get on with it.

"I had it from the stable master that Mrs. Stowe has gone off of her own toward the lakes."

"What?"

The footman nodded. "I was out using the necessary when I heard the stablemaster talking with a groom; the horseflesh were riled due to the storm." He cleared his throat. "He said the widow doesn't realize how unstable the lakes could be or that the shadows in the hills and dells could hide drop offs and holes. Especially in a storm. Wanted to mount a search party and sent me for the butler to fetch you."

Well, damn.

"Foolish woman." His throat was far too tight when he swallowed. With jerky movements, he rubbed the moisture from his cheeks. "She deserves her fate."

The footman gawked at him in horror. "You can't mean that, Your Lordship. It's a bad storm, and she is a kind woman. Not fit weather for anyone to find themselves lost in."

"Of course." Silently berating himself, Benedict shoved a hand through his hair. Marjorie deserved more than his ire and his hesitation. She deserved… everything. In fact, she deserved all good things in life because she'd been cheated out of it in her first marriage. Though he didn't know what her existence had been before she'd married, if her father had arranged her match to the bounder, it couldn't have been that wonderful. For himself, Benedict had been blessed most of the time, had hoarded that very life of abundance and happiness, lusted after it, until all he had were memories he grasped onto that left him empty and cold, when all along there had been this vibrant, extraordinary, amazing woman who merely wanted his attention… and his love.

Such a simple request, and he'd stupidly denied her that out of fear.

All of this is my fault.

With a shake of his head, he sighed. "Allow me a moment to dress. Afterward, I shall mount a search for her."

"I'm glad to hear that, Your Lordship." The relief on his face and in his tone was obvious.

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat. "Have Trenton put the kettle on. Wake Mrs. Perkins and ask her to find warm blankets. Tell her to put them into a basket with some strong whiskey. Then wake Lord Traverston, explain the situation. Bring him and yourself out toward the lakes. We'll need all the help we can get."

"Right away, Your Lordship." Then the footman dashed along the corridor to presumably follow orders.

Once alone, Benedict donned a fine lawn shirt, didn't bother to tuck it into the waist of his breeches or put on any other clothing. Thunder raged and lightning flashed. Worry sat heavy on his shoulders and in his chest. Had Marjorie been upset enough to drown herself as Phoebe had done? Was she even now battling the angry lake waters, or had she wrenched her ankle traversing an unfamiliar and darkened landscape? Icy fingers of fear twisted down his spine.

Can't you see how much I… love you? How I'm too afraid to say it?

Vowing to tell her at the first available opportunity, he slammed out of his room, ran down the corridor and took the staircase at a reckless pace while calling for Trenton. He met the harried-looking butler at the rear doors to the manor, and though the older man was still dressed in his nightshirt and sleeping cap, he was no less ready for his duties than he ever was.

After briefly explaining the situation, Benedict wrenched open one of the double doors. A bob of illumination from outside showed the footman with a pair of lanterns. "Rouse whatever staff you can. We'll no doubt need a fire lit for warmth and copious amounts of blankets, and God forbid, if Mrs. Stowe is injured…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"I'll see to everything, Your Lordship. Just bring her back as quickly as you can." He cleared his throat. "I rather think we need her as much as she needs us."

"Good man." After slapping a hand to the butler's shoulder, Benedict went outside into the nighttime storm. Immediately, the wind and rain soaked through his clothing, and as he joined the footman and took up a lantern, he realized it wouldn't be that effective, for the elements were too strong. It would have to do. "Let's go."

"Where, Your Lordship?"

Where, indeed? For a moment, he glared into the darkened heavens as thunder rolled. Then he said, "Hummingbird Lake. If she is upset, she'll go there. I'll wager my entire estate on it." Damn and blast, of course that was where she would head. It was his favorite lake, and she'd taken a liking to the area the handful of times they'd visited it together. Especially after the day they had kissed at the swing.

The lake where Phoebe had killed herself.

A wave of fear smacked into him, temporarily stalling his forward momentum as the wind-driven rain battered his body. The footman went ahead of him and was soon swallowed up by the darkness and rain. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back there, couldn't bear another death at the hands of that lake, if that was indeed what awaited him. If he lost Marjorie that way—anyway—that would be the end of him because he wouldn't be able to bear it.

"What the devil are you standing about for?" The sound of Traverston's voice yanked him out of fear's hold. "You had me roused from slumber to come out here during the devil's own storm, and yet you are standing about ruminating?" Annoyance rode hard through the earl's voice.

That brought Benedict back to center. "I apologize. Marjorie has gone missing and was last seen running into the night toward the lakes."

"Why the deuce would she do that?" The earl wiped at the water on his face in some agitation.

"She and I had a bit of an argument early tonight." Heat went up the back of his neck as he and the earl set out at a jog toward Hummingbird Lake.

"About?"

"She wished to know what the future might hold for her and me, and whether I might come to…" He swallowed down the fear and guilt that had made a resurgence. "Whether I might love her and wish to marry her because neither of us should live in sin and scandal. Especially where my title is concerned." It was a roundabout explanation, but he couldn't help it.

"And you, being you, remained tight-lipped. You denied your feelings for her, she reacted as any woman might, and left your arse," Traverston summed up rather succinctly seconds before the next flash of lightning and crash of thunder.

"Yes." I've been a fool.

"God, you're a fool." The earl's words oddly mirrored his thoughts. "That woman is besotted with you; I don't know why, for you're acting like a nodcock." Annoyance continued to thread through Traverston's voice. "And you love her as well. Stop holding on to the notion that you'll somehow be reunited with your dead wife when a whole, grand life is stretching out before you just waiting for you to acknowledge it."

"I know."

"If you don't pull your head from your arse, I am going to charm the widow myself, take her to Scotland, and enter into a handfast ceremony so I can have the privilege and right to care for her, to have her as my countess because you don't appreciate what is right under your nose."

There was enough warning in those words to put steel in Benedict's spine. He'd known the earl since their time at Eton, and he also knew William didn't make such a threat lightly. Any woman would be fortunate to find herself married to him. But Marjorie is mine. "When I'm dead you can try."

The earl snorted. "Then do stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop hiding behind fear, stop making excuses and marry the damn woman!" He shoved a hand through his hair, slicking it back against his skull. "Be the man you were always meant to be, for I am finished with worrying over your sorry arse."

Benedict nodded as they moved through the night. "Thank you for the kick in the pants."

"You are welcome, but if the words aren't enough, I'm happy to actually kick your arse or even land you a facer or two until you come to your senses."

"Not necessary. I have focused, and will make things right as soon as I can." Gratitude filled his chest, for if William had given up on him, he would no doubt have already been lost.

"Marjorie!" Where the devil was she? Peering through the darkness and rain was a chore. When would the deuced rain stop? "Marjorie!"

Far too many minutes of silence went by as he and the earl ran through the night. Then, a scream for help rent the night, and his chest seized.

"There!" Traverston pointed, his finger almost spectral in the light and shadows made from the lantern and flashed of lightning. "She's fighting with something."

"What the hell?" Benedict rushed to the edge of the lake. Marjorie stood in the water that came up to her thighs, and sure enough, she was struggling to search the water, but for what, he couldn't see in the darkness. "Marjorie! Come home!"

"There's a dog that needs rescued." And she largely ignored him.

"I don't see a damned dog." He waded into the water. "You need to get out of this storm." Thunder rolled as if to punctuate his statement.

"And you need to realize you have no right to order me about." Even with the wind, there was no mistaking the ire in her voice. Seconds later, she lost her footing and went beneath the water with a second scream.

"Marjorie!" Shoving the lantern into Traverston's hands when she didn't immediately resurface, Benedict waded further into the water. "Wait here. I'll need help bringing her up."

"Keep your wits about you, Syn," the earl warned as the lantern light bobbed.

Streaks of lightning lit the dark sky as if the earth was angry with him as much as she was. He shoved those thoughts from his mind, and not finding Majorie nearby, he waded further out just as her head surfaced and she screamed again before being sucked under once again.

"Marjorie!" Fighting against the energetic slap of the lake waves as well as the rain, he plunged a hand into the water and grabbed a handful of skirting, but she didn't budge.

She scrabbled at his hand, clinging tight. "My dress is stuck on branches from a submerged tree. I'm unable to get free."

With his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest tight from the danger she was still in, he wrenched at her skirting. Another mighty tug finally ripped it free of the branches, but the water shifted again, and she was yanked from his grasp.

Another scream of terror pierced the air, and Marjorie went beneath the surface once more.

Thunder boomed but it seemed the storm was moving on; it was no longer directly on top of them. For a few seconds, lightning illuminated the churning water. He couldn't see her, but then there was a glimpse of her blonde hair, and he pounced. As soon his fingers encountered her skirting and then the solidness of her body, he didn't stop reeling her in until she was finally tugged into his arms.

"Thank God." He pressed his lips to the top of her dripping head. Except, she didn't answer him. She sagged against his chest, her eyes closed. "Hang on, sweeting."

Never had he known such terror as he did in that moment. Picking her up, he fought against the constantly moving water and slowly brought her out of the lake. Once he'd carried her to the earl's location, he gently set her on the grass, but she was far too pale.

His heart lay firmly lodged in his throat as he peered up at Traverston. "I don't know what's wrong with her. Perhaps she fainted or swallowed water."

The earl kneeled at her other side opposite Benedict, holding the lantern high. "If swallowing is her issue, you must breathe for her in an effort to expel it."

"Right." Leaning over her, he quickly fit his lips to hers and blew air into her mouth, hoping it would cycle into her lungs and encourage the water outward.

Her chest rose and fell from his efforts, but she didn't open her eyes.

Panic climbed his spine and throat as he looked at his friend. "What now?"

"Keep going."

"I can't lose her, William." Once more, he breathed air into Marjorie's mouth. Every beat of his heart echoed in his ears, and everything ebbed away as he concentrated on her. "Come back to me, Marjorie. I've been an idiot, couldn't see the forest for the trees as it were. I'm ready to take those next steps now…" God, would she hear the words and come back to him? Not knowing what else to do, he breathed again into her mouth.

Agonizing seconds went by as he hovered on the edge of living and dying, perhaps more acutely than he'd ever done before, then as he and the earl stared, her body jerked. She coughed up water, peered in confusion at him, vomited up more water, and finally curled onto her side where she continued to cough and spit.

Such relief coursed through Benedict's being that he nearly collapsed onto the ground beside her. "I'm glad you returned." And he pressed his lips to her cold, wet forehead.

"Good show, mate," the earl said as he lowered the lantern, but not before Benedict caught the relief in his face.

Before anyone could say more, a bedraggled brown and white beagle came limping over to them. With a fearful glance, the dog hobbled over to Marjorie and licked her face. When she pulled the canine to her, it wagged its tail like mad.

"I told you… there was a… dog," she said in a labored voice.

Traverston laughed. He leaned over and plucked the dog from her hold. "When will you learn to listen to the people in your life, Syn?"

Despite the circumstances and the storm they were all still in the midst of, Benedict laughed. How long had it been since he'd done so? And damn but it felt good to laugh again. "The rain is an abomination. Do you want me to carry you back to the house?" There were things he wanted to say to her, things that were overdue, things anchored in his heart that needed to be given life.

She brought her gaze back to his face. "That is too far for even you to manage." When she pushed herself onto an elbow, it was a decidedly wobbly movement. "I shall walk."

That determination of spirit was what had first captivated him, and it encouraged him to complete the fall now. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Nonsense. You needing rescued is how we met, after all. Why not continue that trend?"

A tired sigh escaped her. "You weren't a prick at that time."

"Fine." Could she not see he was trying to make amends? A trace of annoyance went through his chest. "Have it your way." After scrambling to his feet, Benedict reached down and assisted Marjorie to hers. "At least take a blanket. You are soaked and no doubt cold." While Traverston bundled the beagle into one of the blankets taken from the basket, he yanked another out and thrust it in Marjorie's direction. "Since you have declined my help, I shall entrust your care to Traverston. Good night, Mrs. Stowe." Every muscle in his body was tense, for he never thought she would reject him in such a way.

Another jagged streak of lightning went across the sky. It struck a nearby oak tree with a resounding crack that echoed through the night. Part of the split tree fell on top of him, and suddenly the most horrible agony and pain went through his being.