Page 76 of Making of a Scandal
“Based on this morning’s copy ofThe London Gossip, I suppose you—”
“Hit me.”
Benedict blinked as Nick approached him, arms spread as he braced himself. “What?”
Nick gritted his teeth, the muscles in his torso tensing for the coming onslaught. “Uncle Paul is dying, and Calliope is marrying that prick, and I … I need to feel something else. You’re angry with me, so I know you want to. Hit me, goddamn it!”
The blow came all the force of a cannonball behind it, slamming into his middle and doubling him over. He hunched and curled inward, staggering back a few steps as he struggled to breathe through lungs that were now on fire.
“Better?” Benedict asked. “Because, I have more if you need it.”
Nick swallowed. “Again.”
His friend frowned, for the first time seeming to understand the state he was in. “Nick …”
“Again!”
This time the blow came at his jaw, snapping his head back and making his ears ring. He’d hardly recovered before two more strikes threw him off his feet, his cheek aching, his chest burning, and his stomach threatening to cast up its meager contents.
He lay on the floor and stared up at the whirling ceiling, feeling only slightly better. If nothing else, it was difficult to tell if his chest ached from a broken heart or a bruised rib.
Benedict appeared above him a moment later, extending one hand to reveal he had removed his gloves. Nick accepted assistance getting to his feet, and he grunted when Benedict clapped him on the back.
“Now that’s out of the way, do you want to talk about it?”
Nick minced toward a chair and sank down with a groan, certain if he looked down, he’d find a hole in his torso where his spleen was supposed to be—the organ now lodged somewhere against his spine.
“No,” he sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. “And I’d rather not suffer through a lecture just now, thank you.”
“You deserve one. If the rumors are true, you ruined Miss Barrington, which could have had disastrous consequences for the rest of us.”
“This sounds an awful lot like a lecture to me.”
“I’ll say nothing else. Just inform me when you feel you are ready to get back to work.”
Nick clenched his teeth, annoyed with Benedict though he’d known to expect this.
“Ben—”
“You cannot let your life fall apart over a woman. I could castigate you all day, but it wouldn’t change the fact that you felt something for her. However, she has made a very clear choice. You must move on with your life.”
“I intend to. Uncle Paul has named me his heir.”
He opened his eyes to find Benedict staring at him, mouth agape.
“His heir? As in …”
“Everything he owns will become mine once he is gone. The money, the land. So you see, I’d no longer have a need to continue as a courtesan. Do you think you could find it in yourself not to hate me if my leaving had nothing to do with her?”
Benedict sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t hate you, Nick. I don’t hate Hugh either, and … well, we won’t talk about Edward.”
Nick chuckled. “No, let’s not.”
“I don’t want to congratulate you on your good fortune when I know the cause. But, I am glad you have some form of security. That was all I wanted … for myself and for the rest of you. Are you certain you wish to quit for good? I’ve got three women waiting in the wings and I’d wager they’d start a bidding war if they knew you were available.”
Before Calliope, he might have joked that he could juggle all three and not break a sweat. Now, he couldn’t even muster the interest in a single woman who wasn’t his goddess, let alone three.
“I’m certain. I’m sorry, Ben.”
