Chapter 23

WILLIAM TOSSED AND turned in his bed. His thoughts flittered between Mab and Charles in equal measure.

Mab was intoxicating. He’d never felt jealousy before. Envy, yes. He’d been envious of his perfect brother, with his perfect life, and had often wondered just how different his life might have been if his father had been as kind, or at least indifferent, to him as he had been to Lucius. But he’d never had anything to feel jealous of. He’d had nothing before that he’d felt threatened of someone else coveting. Until Mab.

He had an equal opportunity to any man in Gaol Lodge to speak to Mab. Perhaps even more than any other man, given the fact that they’d had a near-death experience together. But he’d bottled it at the very last moment. And he’d been jealous of the fact that his constant fear over his inadequacies had overshadowed his confidence in approaching Mab.

In an attempt to forget, he mulled over what Charles had said about his brother. It didn’t take long, as he couldn’t make head nor tail of the cryptic message. The best he could come up with was that Lucius had got himself into some bother with someone he ought not to. In his youth, Lucius was known to gamble. But William had recently been to the estate, and his brother was as wealthy as ever .

His brother was a horrible, despicable person, but that was hardly enough for someone to be plotting his murder.

William’s stomach hollowed. Perhaps Charles was the one who had a plot to murder? A deadly coup to pass the title to William in exchange for a wedge of the wealth?

William decided that when he woke in the morning, he would seek advice from his friend. If Benedict could come up with some reasonably sound advice for his love life, perhaps he would have an answer for this too.

BENEDICT SAT CROSS -legged on his bed, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a slice of bread smothered with jam in the other, while he listened to William’s life story.

William told the young lad about his mother, and his father’s attempt to purge the earth of her memory, which had extended to William being denied an education or any attempt of preparing him for the world. He told Benedict of his brother’s contempt for him and of the time he’d been pushed into a pond one foggy morning, only to meet his fairy.

When he told Benedict that he recognised Mab as the fairy he’d met in his youth, Benedict practically swooned, declaring that if meeting Mab here wasn’t fate, he didn’t know what was. Then the young lad began listing every novel he’d ever read that had even a semblance of a similar romance. Every story that Benedict mentioned had a comparable theme in which two persons were perfectly matched to one another, but there was inevitably a convoluted misunderstanding. This was usually far less dramatic than almost accidentally killing one another in a storm and more along the lines of one overhearing a conversation out of context or a misinterpretation of a look given by another suitor, which would keep them frustratingly apart. But, inevitably, they would keep gravitating towards each other until they could no longer deny their feelings “and it was ever so romantic” – Benedict’s words, not William’s.

William managed to finish his life story without any further swooning from Benedict, probably because there was nothing romantic about back-breaking work and selling heirlooms to keep one’s head above water. Finally, William told Benedict of his meeting with Charles last night.

“‘Your brother has been up to all sorts of wicked things with all sorts of despicable people. He’s walking a fine line between them all. All it would take is a whisper in one of their ears and that would be the end of the Viscount Blackwater. And, with no male heirs, the title would naturally go to you.’” William recited the warning back to Benedict.

“Does Charles mean that, should you covet your brother’s title, all you would have to do is give the word and he would make it happen? Or is he warning you that he – your brother – has got himself involved with the wrong people and it’s only a matter of time before his actions backfire on him?” Benedict asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t got the faintest idea what Lucius has been up to over the past few years, nor what kind of trouble he may have got himself involved in.” William answered.

“What do you plan to do?” Benedict asked.

William pondered for a moment. While he despised his brother, he never wished Lucius dead – at least not by his own hands. And he could not knowingly sit back and say nothing if there was a chance that his life was in danger.

“I guess I ought to find out exactly what Charles meant. What else is there to do?” William said with a sigh.

“David said that the men usually gather in the smoking room on the nights when there are no soirees. We should find him this evening and question him then. What you need to do in the meantime is decide what you plan to do with the information.”

“I already know,” said William. “At least if it pertains to me being given the opportunity to usurp my brother for his title. It will be an outright and resounding no.”

“And if it’s a plan that is already in motion?” Benedict asked.

“If his life is in danger, then I will have to tell him,” William said.

“And if it’s just his name or reputation?” Benedict asked.

“That is what I’d have to ponder about. We share no brotherly love, and he certainly hasn’t done anything to help my name or reputation.” As William said it, he immediately thought of his niece, Daphne. No matter what happened, it wasn’t just his brother’s reputation at stake, but his brother’s entire family, including the little girl. And while he felt indifference to his brother and sister-in-law’s reputation being trodden into the dirt, his niece certainly didn’t deserve to be dragged down with them.

When had life become so complicated?

Just a week ago, his entire life had revolved solely around providing a roof over his head and keeping food in his belly.

And now he was in a foreign land, potentially on the cusp of losing the love of his life because of his foolishness, and involuntarily being thrust into a potential murder plot, one where he wasn’t entirely sure where the threat lay.

“Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it until we talk to Charles himself,” said Benedict. “In the meantime, we should talk about how we can set you up with Mab!”

It was all William could do not to roll his eyes at the young lad, who was practically quivering with excitement.

“In the novels, normally the hero is brooding, vexing, and does something that would usually be off-putting to any regular young lady. You almost killed her by pulling her down a hill, which I guess would be off-putting to most ladies. And you certainly did brooding very well last night, and she did seem to grow increasingly more vexed as the night moved on. So now it’s time to move on to the next stage.”

“Which would be?”

Benedict flopped back on his bed and said, “We need to find a situation where the two of you can’t escape one another.”

William snorted. “And what did you have in mind? Opportunities like that don’t just fall on one’s lap.”

Benedict sat up and scrunched his face up in concentration. Before he had the chance to answer, however, a knock sounded on their bedroom door.

“Come in,” Benedict answered.

“Hello, fellas,” Wilfred said in a too-chipper tone. He wasn’t dressed in his black uniform this morning, but instead wore a simple woollen suit.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” William scoffed at the guard, who seemed to be working every moment of every day.

“I was off duty when this arrived,” he said, pulling out an envelope from the inside of his jacket. “But I wanted to be the one who delivered it.”

William held out his hand, to which Wilfred answered by slapping the envelope down on William’s head.

“It’s not for you,” Wilfred said, taking a step towards Benedict. “It’s for Benedict.”

Benedict’s face scrunched in confusion. “Who would be writing to me?”

Wilfred handed Benedict the letter and immediately took a seat on the bed beside William. Cross-legged and exasperated, Wilfred said, “Go on! Open it!”

Slowly, Benedict broke the seal. He read the letter, turned scarlet, and read the letter again.

“What is it?” William said, unable to contain the brewing excitement.

“You know how you said opportunities don’t just fall in people’s laps?” Benedict said with an air of smugness.

William felt a prickle of nervousness skitter up his spine. “Yes?”

“I’ve been invited to have afternoon tea with Tilly,” Benedict breathed. “And she said that she would ask Mab to chaperone her and wondered if you would like to keep Mab company.”

“I knew it!” Wilfred said, punching the air. “I told you I could tell who would make an excellent match from a mile off! Shall I take your response to her now? I’m not supposed to be working today, but I really must see how this pans out!”

WILFRED HAD TAKEN BENEDICT’S response immediately to the main house. The arrangement was that they would meet the ladies at noon for afternoon tea. Wilfred, now in his full guard attire despite it being his day off, met William and Benedict at the front door, where a coach was waiting to take them to the main house.

The instant William got into the carriage, however, he lost all confidence. A sentiment that he seemed to share with Benedict. Wilfred, however, was positively quivering with excitement as he took a seat beside Benedict.

“How does one woo a woman?” Benedict asked quietly.

“I am the wrong person to ask,” William said.

Wilfred tsk ed from beside them.

“What advice would you give, then? I don’t see a ring on your finger,” William snapped.

“That is through choice,” Wilfred said. “I have seen many a romance but have yet to be swooped up in one myself. Anyway, what works for one might not work for another. The only advice I can give you is to be honest.”

“I should tell Tilly about my, er, condition?” Benedict asked, as if he hadn’t just given William the exact same advice the evening before.

“You don’t have to reveal everything right away. But, yes, when the time is right, you should tell her about what has happened to you.”

William swallowed a lump in his throat.

Honesty .