Ring of Secrets (11 page)

Shoes planted on the floor, now, Fairchild leaned in. “At the risk of sounding like a jealous suitor,” he said, voice a low thrum, “I must question whether you are earnest in your pursuit of Miss Reeves.”

Ben arched a brow in the same way he did when a student proposed mixing saltwort with vinegar. “Pardon?”

Fairchild spread his hands. “Forgive me, but while you seem to spend as much time in company with her as you may, I must admit you don't strike me as a man who can truly appreciate her.”

His arms folded over his chest of their own volition. “Oh? Prithee, why is that?”

“Isn't it obvious? You are a Yale man. A scholar, an academic. I have even heard you dubbed a wit among the gentlemen.”

“Usually I take such words as compliments, sir, and yet I have the feeling I ought to consider them an insult in this case.”

Fairchild straightened a bit, his expression combining apology with concern. “Not at all, I assure you. It is only that…well, sir, I cannot think you superficial, nor mercenary, given your family's late windfall. But you cannot possibly find in my dear Miss Reeves a companion who will provide you with scintillating conversation, and I daresay that is something you require in a wife.”

Were it not for that genuine concern on the man's face, Ben would have taken offense on Miss Reeves' behalf. But given the soft light in his rival's eyes… “Colonel, forgive me, but if that is the opinion you have of her, why do
you
pursue her? For surely a man so quick to assume the best motives in me harbors no ill ones himself.”

Half a smile possessed Fairchild's mouth. “Mr. Lane, I spend my days among bickering, foul-mouthed soldiers, dealing with problems and complications. When evening comes, my greatest desire is to relax beside someone who sees the world through a lens of simplicity, who finds delight in every event. Who listens—just listens—without complaint or ambition.” His gaze went distant. “I would consider it the highest honor to provide for her all her days, to protect her from those who would abuse her gentle spirit.”

Those like him? Compared to Fairchild, who seemed to love her as she was, who had the purest of intentions, Ben felt small and dirty.

What did he even hope for? Marriage was not in his immediate plans, at least not to some fine lady of New York who would then wrinkle her nose in distaste when he took her home to Connecticut. He had set his sights on courtship for solely underhanded reasons.

And yet, Miss Reeves was not the creature Fairchild supposed her, Ben was sure of that. The colonel loved only a mask, while Ben strove to discover the creature behind it. He wanted to know who she truly was, not who she appeared to be. Did that not make
him
the better man?

Or just the one destined for disappointment?

He drew in a long breath and let it slowly out. Then he stood. “I thank you for speaking with me, Colonel, as it has assured me you deserve the highest esteem. And I promise you, I have no ill intentions toward Miss Reeves.”

Fairchild leaned his chair back on two legs. Somehow the pose of relaxation made him all the more authoritative. “I will be keeping an eye on you, sir, to be sure you have not.”

Ben nodded and left, but once he was out of doors, he paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lovely. An officer of the Crown watching his every move, ready to pounce if he made a mistake.

It gave him the feeling of being a beaker over too high a flame, in danger of fracturing from the heat and pressure.

Seven

B
ennet's fingers were painfully cold by the time he reached the house. Flexing them as he went in the door, it took a moment to realize that all was not as he left it. In place of the all-but-empty tables and skeleton crew of staff, boxes and trunks littered the entryway, and servants dashed this way and that.

Which could only mean one thing.

“Bennet Ellsworth Lane. I hardly believed it when Hutchins said you were here.”

Ben slid his burdens onto a table, bit back his sigh, and held out his arms for his mother. “I came as soon as I received Archie's and Father's letters. I was just speaking of you to the tailor this morning about how sad I was to see you gone when I arrived.”

Caroline Lane arched her brow in that way that said he fooled no one, especially not her. “And why would I wait for you to come? We all know, Bennet, that had your father and I not traveled annually to New Haven for a visit, we would have gone these eight years without so much as glimpsing you.”

“But as you were always happy to come, I still managed to rejoice in your company.” He offered his most charming smile. “'Tis good to have you home, Mother, though I confess I was headed out again to a dinner engagement.”

“Yes, I know, Hutchins informed me.” The arch of Mother's brows shifted into one of omnipotent accusation. “The Hamptons', of all places. I already took the liberty of sending a note around letting them know your brother and I have arrived back in town—”

“Archie is here too?”

“Just, yes. As I was saying, Mrs. Hampton was quick to invite us along as well, so I have accepted.” Now her eyes went flinty. “Though for the life of me, I cannot fathom why you are dining with the Hamptons.”

“Well, they…I…” He turned from her to pick up his books before again meeting his mother's unwavering gaze. He had no reason to feel awkward. She had been after him for years to settle down. “I have been paying court to their granddaughter, Miss Reeves.”

Yet rather than the overjoyed speech he half expected, a breath hissed from between her teeth. “You jest! You cannot be interested in that stupid girl.”

Was he the only person in all of New York who saw that something more lurked behind her empty countenance? Or perhaps George was right, and he saw something he wanted to see rather than what was there.

No. He could not believe that. So he shook his head and swept by his mother. “She is not stupid, Mother.”

She scoffed and trotted after him as he headed up the stairs. “I never thought to see the day when my Bennet fell prey to a pretty face. I expect it of Archibald, but not
you
, dear. You have too much sense than to saddle yourself with a brainless minx like her for the rest of your days. We must keep tonight's engagement, of course, but afterward I expect you to succumb to better sense. You are now the heir to a sizable English estate, and you must consider a woman's ability to manage it before you make any commitments.”

“Mother.” He pushed into his sitting room and set his books onto a table. “I daresay when out from under her grandparents' influence, she will have no trouble rising to any task.”

Huffing to an angry halt once inside the door, she planted a hand on her pannier. “Her grandparents are hardly the problem, Bennet. Have you any idea the disgrace her mother brought upon them?”

He paused with a hand on the fastener of his cloak. “Disgrace?”

Mother rolled her eyes and came in far enough to take a seat on the settee. “It never ceases to amaze me how you can retain absolutely any information you read in some dusty tome and yet rarely remember what goes on with our neighbors.”

Ben fought the twitching of his lips with admirable aplomb. “I must say, Mother, I have often wondered how you manage the opposite.”

“Impudent boy.” But she smiled. Briefly. “It caused such a scandal that it was talked of for years. The Hamptons had only the one surviving child, Amelia. She was a few years my younger, and your father and I were already married by the time she entered society, but she was without question the toast of New York. Until
he
came to town.”

Shrugging out of his cloak, Ben arched his brows. “He? Mr. Reeves?”

“A nobody. A penniless farmer from some backwoods town in Long Island.”

“Oyster Bay.”

Her mouth already open to continue, Mother stared at him. “Well, you can apparently retain
some
information on our neighbors. Did Miss Reeves actually admit to the filth from which she came?”

“'Tisn't a secret, apparently. If you still recall her parents' story, I daresay everyone else does as well. And Oyster Bay is a fine community from what I have heard.”

“Humph.” She patted the whitened curls resting atop her head. “If I were her, I should do my best to make them all forget. Amelia shamed the entire family by running off with that man, and who knows if the marriage was even legal? Certainly it was not performed in the Church of England, and she was too young to have wed without her parents' permission. Undoubtedly she lied about something, or else they never married at all but lived together by common law.”

If she expected that to shock him, she had obviously never read the bawdy tales of Rabelais. Which of course she had not. Neither her father nor his ever would have let them soil her delicate female mind.

But she expected some response, so he shrugged. “'Tis hardly Miss Reeves' fault what her parents did or did not do. I see no reason to judge her for their actions.”

Mother's lips thinned to a line of blotchy red paint. “'Twill suffice to judge her on her own. She is an utter ninny. I know not how Phillippa tolerates her. And be forewarned. The girl will flirt with anything
in breeches, but her sights have long been set on Colonel Fairchild, with the Hamptons' blessing.” She blinked in that way that spoke of an epiphany she didn't much care for. “Or it
had
been. They would no doubt prefer you, though, now that you are heir to Clefton.”

“Mother…” He drew in a breath and shook his head. “Please, give her a chance.”

For a long moment, she stared him down. “Why do you argue with me, Bennet? Everyone knows I am an excellent judge of character.”

Ben held her gaze without flinching. “But all agree I am an excellent judge of wit, and I am sure Miss Reeves has more of it than she shows.”

The slam of a door below saved Mother a response to that. She smiled. “Archibald must be home.”

Ben didn't know whether to grin or sigh. He always so looked forward to seeing his brother, younger by a mere eleven months. Unfortunately, they seemed to get along better from a distance these days.

Feet pounded, and then Archie's voice called out, “Where is everybody?”

Mother stood and poked her head out the door. “Up here, darling, in your brother's sitting room. Do tell me you cleaned your boots before stomping your way through my house.”

“Of course, Mother.” When his brother entered, it was with a mischievous grin—and soiled footwear. He gave their mother a loud kiss upon the cheek and then turned to Ben, arms outstretched.

The grin won out. Might as well enjoy the reunion. Ben flicked at the gold fringe on his brother's red army jacket. “Look at you, with epaulettes on both shoulders now. Major Lane.”

Archie chuckled. And then lunged.

Ben couldn't recall the last time his brother greeted him with something other than an attempt to wrest him to the ground. It had been this way since they were tots, the slight, wiry Archie determined to prove that strength rested not in Ben's bulk but in his own determination.

And since they were tots, Ben had obliged him. When his brother's arms closed around him, he put up just enough fight to be convincing before he allowed Archie to capture him in a headlock.

In all likelihood, Ben would not have to let his brother win
anymore. Archie had filled out a bit and ended up the taller. But he still felt like a stocky bear in comparison to his brother's lithe frame, and he still feared injuring him. If not physically, then his pride—if by chance Ben
did
win a tussle.

“Oh, boys, do stop this childish display.” Mother stayed beside the door. “And now that we are all here, we had better dress for dinner. We are going to Hampton Hall to dine, Archibald. Your boots had better be polished by the time we leave.”

Archie released Ben's neck, though he caught him on his way up for an actual squeeze of greeting. “The Hamptons', eh? Excellent. It has been entirely too long since I have enjoyed the particular scenery to be had in their hallowed halls.”

Ben didn't much care for the gleam that entered his brother's eyes.

Mother must not have either. She arched her brows and leveled a finger at Archie's nose. “None of your nonsense, young man. Miss Reeves hasn't the brains to recognize the wolf beneath your sheep's clothing, and we cannot afford a break with her grandparents over something as shifting as your affections. Besides.” Her gaze swung to Ben, probing and not without challenge. “Her family has apparently decided your brother can offer the alliance they seek.”

“Benny? With Miss Reeves? You jest.” As if to prove it, Archie loosed a loud guffaw.

And why was that absolutely everyone's reaction? Ben planted his hands on Archie's back so he could send him helpfully toward the door. “I fail to see the humor. Now, if you please, I must dress.”

Archie skidded into the hall behind their mother, though he turned back once out there, grin in place. “I had not thought you capable of this, Benny. I am impressed. To think that you, the most intellectual man I know, being led by far baser inclinations…well, this is wonderful. I cannot wait to see it for myself.”