Page 17 of My Lord, My Rogue
“You do not sound sorry,” Benjamin retorted, louder than he had intended. Stephens knew he would not sack him. The man was too valuable . ., although he could irritate at times. Yet he was right in this case. Groaning, Benjamin swung his naked body to the side of the bed and leaned over, still gaining his bearings. “What time is it, Stephens?”
“Seven of the clock, my lord. You told me to remind you of your appointment at Brook Hall. And His Grace left this for you. Asked me to give it to you today.”
Benjamin took the note and gently unsealed it.
Willington,
I meant what I said yesterday. You are free to see where the relationship with Lady Honora Aster leads you. I realized I had missed the signs of your affection for her and felt bad about that—pray do not let opportunity get away from you this time!
I will see what influence I can bring to bear on the guardianship papers Lord Radcliff spoke about and will let you know post haste what happens.
In the meantime, enjoy yourself—be happy.
AH
Benjamin folded the note and placed it on the nightstand next to his bed.
How like Lancaster. He could not have asked for a better best friend. In that moment, Benjamin decided. He would court her and let things happen, if they were meant to be. He had no way of knowing whether she was open to his pursuit, but he meant to try. The two opportunities he had missed were two too many. And he cared for her.I have always cared for her.
“Sir, your clothing is pressed and hanging on the wooden valet. And the shower is ready. I had the hot water brought in a few minutes before waking you.”
He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment, while he continued to sit, pulling his thoughts together. A moment later, he straightened up. He was still becoming used to this shower contraption. Sometimes the water was too hot, other times too cold. A work in progress, he told himself. Overall, he liked it better than the tub. He had had them installed in his London townhouse and the primary homes he frequented. “Thank you, Stephens,” he uttered.
“My lord?” The valet turned and looked at him.
“For getting me up at the crack of dawn.” He laughed. “Sorry, I was thinking about the day ahead of me and fear I am a bit sluggish this morning. Send word to Cook that I will need the basket and blanket in two hours,” he added.
“Everything is ready, your lordship. I checked on it before I came to wake you up. “Cook was singing to herself in the kitchen as she prepared it, so be wary,” Stephens smirked. “She directed the preparations at the greenhouse. It should be ready for your picnic.”
Benjamin grinned. “Excellent! I will have a light fare to break my fast.”
Stephens left, and Benjamin walked into his shower. Grabbing the sandalwood soap with one hand, he released the water lever slightly with the other, allowing himself a goodly dose of water while he scrubbed. A few minutes later, he pulled for the rinse. “These new contraptions take no time at all to use. Damned efficient, if you ask me,” he mumbled to himself.
He heard a harrumph outside the door and sniggered. He had already determined Stephens was not a fan of them, as he insisted on overseeing the entire process. The maids could not pour the water into the top basin without help. He assisted, even staying for the cleanup, making sure no one disturbed Benjamin’s privacy. Since the shower was new, an unusual number of staff trudged up with buckets of water to see it—an added aggravation to his valet.
Once it became obvious Benjamin was finished with the shower, Stephens was back to help him dress. Finally, he was on his way to the dining parlor, famished by this time. He would have to work hard not to overeat.
On his way to the entry hall, his butler passed him. “My lord, your mother sent a missive,” the tall greying man said, extending the sterling salver.
“Thank you, Weathersby.” Benjamin opened the note and scanned it. “ coming for a visit.” He made a mental note to be back a little sooner than he had planned. “Please ask Mrs. O’Mara to prepare her suite. I feel sure she intends to stay.”
“Yes, my lord,” the retainer responded.
By ten-thirty, Benjamin was on his way to the stables, basket in hand. He had taken his time breaking his fast and read the local papers cover to cover. The walk to the stables on clear days such as this was especially invigorating for him, giving him fifteen-to twenty minutes to stretch his legs before sitting in the saddle. The air was crisp, but not overly cool—perfect for a picnic.
The basket seemed heavier than he had anticipated, and he wondered what surprises Cook had included. He had asked for sweet wine and a carafe of chilled water and felt sure that added considerably to the weight.
As he approached the stables, he found his stable hand standing with his hands on his hips, facing the area behind the stables. The crunch of his boots drew the ostler’s attention.
“Oh! Yer lordship. ’Tis good to see you. Yer horse is ready.”
“What was so interesting back there, Danny?” Benjamin asked.
“My lord. I fear I am seeing things. I saw a beautiful woman with dark hair on a dark horse from the corner of my eye. But when I turned to get a better look, she had disappeared,” Danny answered, scratching his head. “The horse was quieter than any horse I’ve heard.”
Benjamin did not comment but looked in the direction where Danny had seen the woman and saw something shining on the ground. He needed to take a look but did not want to involve the ostler. “Is Dover ready?”
“She is, my lord. I was just going to retrieve her when I became distracted by . . . well, distracted. I think I must need more sleep at night.” He chuckled nervously.
