Page 25 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
Decisively, he retrieved the portrait from the drawer and stepped out into the corridor. Signaling Barrett, he waited for the butler to approach. “Have this sent to Mrs. Bardwell, Barrett. I think she would appreciate having it now… And I do not need it anymore.”
Barrett all but beamed at him. “Certainly, my lord. An excellent notion.”
Payne started to walk away, but then thought better of it. Turning back to the butler, he asked, “The house on St. James is currently empty, correct?”
“Yes, sir, I do believe so.”
“Have it cleaned and readied.”
“Will the dowager be taking up residence there?”
“Yes. It’s high time, I think. Don’t you?”
Barrett’s lips were quivering with barely surpressed glee. “A good servant would never offer an opinion in such matters. But as an excellent servant with many years devoted to this house and family, I am inclined to break protocol and heartily agree. Lady Davenport will never feel like she is the lady of the house if her orders are forever being countermanded by another. And the dowager will never be content to let anyone else rule a house in which she resides. Additionally, decorating the St. James house would keep the dowager occupied.”
“See to your part then and I will see to mine.” With that Payne climbed the stairs and headed directly for his mother’s suite of rooms. Best to get it over with.
14
She wept piteously.
“You’re disowning me for… for her!”
Payne stared nonplussed at his mother. “No one said anything about disowning. You shall have a generous allowance in addition to the jointure father left for you. I will pay your household expenses, within reason, so that you need not worry about salaries for the servants.”Because if he left it to her to see that they got paid, they never would.
“She went running to you with her complaints,” his mother continued, oblivious to any protest from him. “That girl is nothing more than a conniving adventuress!”
His temper flaring, Payne snapped at her, “Thatgirlis a woman grown and she is my wife! I will not hear another snide comment from you about her. I’ll instruct Somers to begin packing your personal items. I had thought to have you move by the end of the week. In light of your current temperament, I think we should make every effort to alter that timeline. You’ll be gone by breakfast tomorrow.”
A decorative ormolu box that rested on the table beside his mother’s bed came flying at him. It was hurled with far more strength and accuracy than he would have ever anticipated. Not that he didn’t think her capable of viciousness, he did. But he’d never known her to engage in anything remotely resembling a sport. To have her accurately launch a projectile was rather surprising.
“I’ll be deducting that from your allowance,” he retorted.
“I told her,” his mother replied smugly. “I told her all about Anne and your devotion to her memory. No doubt she’s off right now weeping into her pillow because she knows you will never love her!”
And there it was. The missing piece. His mother had meddled, had said something hurtful and patently false to make Benny feel—what? Jealous? No. Benny was not the jealous sort. But it certainly had left her feeling insecure in her present position. How could it not?
“Tomorrow morning,” he repeated. “You will be moved into the St. James house. And if you dare speak a word against Benny, publicly or in private, there will be hell to pay. Is that clear?”
“One would think you actually did love the girl!”
He didn’t. Did he? Three blissful days of marriage were hardly enough to determine such a thing. Surely. But there was no certainty in that denial. No certainty at all. In the few days they had been together, Benny had reminded him what it felt like to have joy in his life. Something he hadn’t known for a very long time. And in retrospect, he could see now how much his mother had stoked his guilt, how she’d pushed him into this unending pursuit for vengeance for Anne. With clarity, he now understood why. Better for him to love a dead woman than a living one who might usurp her position in the house. She’d been manipulating him all along and his own guilt had been so great that he’d permitted it.
Without another word, Payne turned on his heel and left her rooms. He needed to see Benny, but first he needed to get his temper under control. His mother had the unique ability to make him angrier than any other person ever had.
* * *
After fifteen minutes, Benny had grown impatient. After half an hour, she’d grown quite angry. At the one hour mark, she simply refused to sit there waiting for him any longer. Getting up from the chair that she’d perched upon while awaiting her husband, Benny grabbed a heavy cloak from the wardrobe.
It was a gray, chilly afternoon, but the walls were closing in on her and she needed an escape. Stepping out into the corridor, she spied one of the maids. “Your name is Ada, is it not?”
The maid turned from her task of dusting a table and murmured, “At your service, my lady,” She then bobbed a curtsy and kept her head lowered, out of shyness perhaps or out of fear as she doubted that the dowager had been a pleasant employer.
“Fetch a cloak for yourself. I feel the need for a walk and you will accompany me. I shall inform Barrett and he may have someone else finish your tasks here.”
“Will you be requiring a footman, my lady? Perhaps a bit of shopping might occur and then you’d need someone to tote the packages,” the maid suggested hopefully. No doubt because she had her eye on one footman in particular.
“I don’t think so,” Benny said. While she hated to thwart the young woman’s romantic aspirations, she was not in the mood to tolerate the presence of any one of the male sex. Her marriage was proving to be both intolerable and lonesome. As she wanted to alleviate her loneliness, there was only one place she could think of that might offer a balm to her troubled soul. “I have a destination in mind and it is not the dressmaker or the milliner or any other Bond Street establishment. I wish to see my sister and my cousin. They are close by and the walk will be… invigorating, I think.”
