Page 24 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
So why then did it sting so terribly? Why did the thought that he pined for another make her want to weep. Because she had thought, for once in her life, that she would simply be enough. And now she would have to wonder every day whether or not he wished she were someone else.
“But alas, she died tragically young and now… well, now he has you. Old. A confirmed spinster. Embroiled in scandal. What a mess it all is! And, of course, you are destroying my relationship with Payne. I am his mother and yet he chooses to defend you at every turn! No doubt because you are whispering poisonous words into his ears.”
Benny had no idea why the woman hated her so. Perhaps she was one of those women who believed that no woman would ever truly be good enough for her son and the sainted Anne was only spared her wrath by virtue of being dead, and therefore, no threat to her position as lady of the house. Still, Benny wasn’t about to be bullied by the woman. “I do not wish to be the cause of a rift between you and your son. And in truth, I will not be. It is your own behavior which is causing that rift and the only way to correct it is to alter your behavior.”
“How dare you!” her mother-in-law snapped. “You take me to task for my behavior when you trapped my son into such an inadvantageous match! You may conceal your cunning nature from others with your delicate appearance, but I certainly know better.”
And she had thought things could not get worse.Rising to her feet, Benny said, “Excuse me, my lady. I find I am quite fatigued and will go upstairs to have a rest. Good afternoon.”
“No. Do not bother. I shall retire to my rooms. An hour in your presence would tax anyone’s strength and endurance!” With that, she swept from the room, her heavy skirts sending various items sailing from the table top and leaving Benny to sort out the mess.
“That certainly went as I had anticipated,” she murmured to the now empty room. Getting up, she began to tidy the room, putting the items back on the table. In a moment of spite, she rearranged the lot, moving them to where she would want them to be. When it was done, she felt small and petty. She was also forced to admit they’d looked better the other way.
After switching them all back to their original positions, albeit grudgingly, Benny left the drawing room. But she did not go upstairs. Instead, she went down the back hall towards Payne’s study. He would be out for a while longer. It was the perfect opportunity to snoop—to find this portrait of the tragic and mysterious Anne who should have been his wife instead of her.
Creeping into the small room, she glanced toward the door that connected it to the library. Seeing no one about, she stepped deeper inside and moved immediately to the desk. Sinking down on her haunches, she carefully opened the center drawer. There was nothing in it but the normal sorts of things a man would keep in his desk. Stationery, pens, ink—there were no portraits of lost loves.
The second drawer yielded greater results. If one could term them such. The small brass case was not very big. It fit in the palm of her hand. But she could see where it was worn from touch. Carefully, she undid the clasp. Immediately, she wished she had not.
The face staring back at her was soft, lovely, with perfectly shaped pouty lips, all of it framed with soft blonde curls. So very different from herself. Small and dark, with pointy features— some had, in an effort to be kind, referred to her as elfin in appearance. Was that even complimentary? She hardly thought so.
“So this is who he loves,” she murmured. With slightly trembling fingers, Benny replaced the portrait and rose to her feet. For the entirety of her life, she’d hated being so small. She’d hated feeling slight and inconsequential next to others. How she’d detested being weaker. Being so slight that people would laugh at the thought of her being carried off by a strong breeze. But she no longer felt slight. She felt impossibly heavy, her feet rooted to the spot and like a stone was pressing in on her chest.
“What are you doing in here?”
Benny looked up. Payne stood in the doorway. Still dressed from riding, his boots and breeches were splattered with mud, his hair windswept. He didn’t look angry at finding her in his private domain. Rather he looked perplexed and also oddly pleased. Somehow that made her transgression seem even worse. “I was looking for you,” she lied. “I thought perhaps you’d returned earlier than expected.”
“Thought?”
“Hoped,” she corrected. Thinking a change of subject might help her, she moved directly to a topic she knew would distract him. “You may wish to speak with your mother. My presence here is… trying for her.”
* * *
Payne noted her pallor, the slight trembling of her hands. What had his mother done to upset her so that she’d come seeking him for—what? Comfort? Protection? He couldn’t imagine that his mother could dish out anything that Benny could not take. But then she shouldn’t have to take it, he thought. She was his wife. This was now her home. His mother’s stranglehold on the house needed to end. He’d let it go on for far too long already, just for the sake of convenience in not having to deal with her tantrums.
“Why don’t you go upstairs,” he said. “I’ll have a word with mother and then I’ll join you.”
“Don’t you have appointments today?”
“I’m supposed to go to the club, but I do not have to go. It will survive another day without my presence… but will I survive another hour without yours?” he teased. “I think not, Benny. Five minutes. I’ll be there in five minutes. It would be very appreciated if you would be naked when I arrive. Efficiency is always welcome, after all.”
She smiled, but there was something about it that didn’t seem natural. It didn’t seem like Benny. The spark and fire that he was coming to expect from her was simply absent. Yes. It was time to make some changes and his mother’s presence in the house would be the place to start.
Stepping deeper into the room, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. Not passionately. Not erotically. But affectionately, yes. And she returned that kiss, but somehow he felt she was not truly present for it.
“If something is wrong, if something has happened, you would tell me?” he asked.
“What could possibly have happened?” she asked. “I will wait for you upstairs.”
Payne watched her go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Running one hand through his hair in frustration, as he looked down, he caught a glimpse of the drawer. It often stuck, very rarely closing with ease. But it had that morning, which was why he recalled it so immediately.
The drawer was no longer closed. There was a gap of no less than an inch between the drawer front and the body of the desk. Tugging the drawer open, he looked inside. Nothing was missing or out of place, or if it was out of place, it was only from being shuffled about when the drawer was opened and closed. There was nothing in there that would have upset Benny.
Except the portrait.
The miniature of Anne was where he had left it though. And surely, if it were something about his past, she would ask him. Benny was a reasonable woman, after all. She was not given to hysterics.
But was it hysterics to be upset about one’s spouse keeping a portrait of another? If he had discovered a portrait of some unknown gentleman amongst Benny’s things, he’d have questions at the very least.
