Page 32 of Chasing Benedict
He had meant the remark as another barb, a defense against the truths Alex was forcing him to confront. But Alex had the most curious reaction. Instead of growing cross, he simply approached Benedict with a sly grin, reaching out to adjust his rumpled cravat.
“I’m glad your lovers have enjoyed your skilled attentions,” he purred, leaning so close that his lips brushed Benedict’s. “It is good to know you’ve put all the thingsItaught you to good use.”
With that, he pressed an abrupt, punctuated kiss to Benedict’s lips before turning to exit the room without a look back—leaving Benedict with a hot face and a jaw dropped in stunned disbelief.
CHAPTER 7
“It would seem the Earl of V’s visit to London is coming to an abrupt end. Apparently, the excitement of London does not compare to the serenity of the Kent countryside. Will he return for the start of the Season? With no countess or heir, the earl must soon set his mind to fulfilling his duty as a peer of the realm. Time will tell, I suppose.”
-The London Gossip,28 January 1820
Benedict woke the next morning with a splitting headache and a foul disposition. He and Alex had returned hours after midnight, and Benedict spent what was left of the night tossing and turning, his mind refusing to allow him rest. When he wasn’t turning over the events of the evening with Alex in his thoughts, he ruminated over the preparations he’d made for the impending journey to Kent.
On the afternoon that he and Alex had agreed on the terms of their arrangement, Benedict paid a visit to Madame Hershaw’s dress shop in Cavendish Square. Taking care to use a hat and muffler to conceal his identity, he entered through a door off the back alley, coming upon the modiste as she exited her office. The woman burst into tears at the sight of Benedict, blubbering apologies between hiccups and sobs.
“It’s all right,” he crooned, pulling her into his arms and patting her quivering back. “You had no choice. I don’t blame you.”
“That venomous shrew of a woman!” Madame Hershaw wailed, pounding a tiny fist against his chest. “She threatened me and my girls. This shop is our livelihood, Mr. Sterling. We’d all starve without it.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it a moment longer. The Gossip and I have been in touch and are coming to an agreement. We’ll all be safe soon enough. I simply need you and your girls to continue as if nothing has happened. Can you do that?”
Madame Hershaw nodded, accepting his handkerchief and using it to mop at her reddened cheeks. “I’m so sorry. All I ever wanted was to help you.”
“And you did,” Benedict assured her. “I’m the one who brought that woman’s wrath down upon us all. So, I must be the one to fix it.”
Once the modiste had been comforted and calmed, he left the shop, then paid final visits to Aubrey, Celeste, and Millicent. His friends had assured him they had matters in London under control. Millicent and her contacts would keep a close eye on Cynthia Milbank and write to him at Alex’s estate if she seemed up to anything more unscrupulous than usual. Aubrey would work with Lyons to ensure their friends and the other courtesans were kept calm and discreet, while combing their daily copies ofThe London Gossipfor any hint that Cynthia was making a move against them.
His final order of business had been to visit the Milbank residence. Cynthia’s father had left town on business, leaving her in the company of a spinster aunt. The old woman suffered from unreliable hearing and rheumatic eyes, so she heard none of their conversation as Cynthia guided him to the corner of a drawing room.
“Well?” she prodded. “Have you already come to a decision regarding my offer?”
“I have,” Benedict replied. “I will pay you, but I’ll need one month to produce the money. Do you think you could exercise patience long enough for me to do that?”
He hated to bow to her demands, but that she had uncovered his most damning secret changed everything. Each of them held the power to destroy the other—but Benedict knew as well as Cynthia did that both secrets would prove more detrimental to him than her. Even if everyone believed that Cynthia had assaulted his person, no one would think of him as a hapless victim. Benedict would be painted as an effeminate weakling, and once Cynthia ensured the entire beau monde knew of his proclivities, he’d be known as a sodomite as well. As well, he had his friends to think of. The money would silence talk of them and their families, not just Benedict himself. He would never forgive himself if he gambled with their lives and lost. For now, bowing to blackmail seemed his only option.
If there was a way out of this conundrum, Benedict hadn’t found it yet. Asking Cynthia for time to procure the money gave him room to think and plan. If there was a way, Benedict would find it.
Cynthia’s cat-like smile made his blood run cold, her signature scent agitating his nostrils. Nausea roiled in his gut and his head spun, but he maintained his outward composure.
“I’ve waited this long to see you receive your comeuppance,” she murmured. “I am certainly patient enough to wait for this.”
“Good. In the meantime, my names and those of any man previously or currently in my employ are to be kept out of your paper. I am leaving London for a short time, but will be kept apprised of your writings. Should I find a single sly mention of anyone associated with me, the deal is off. That includes Lady Browning and Lady Dane, as well as Madame Hershaw and her girls.”
Cynthia puckered her lips in distaste. “The London Gossipis my livelihood. It cannot survive without the lifeblood of rumor that maintains it.”
“This city is filled with any number of scandalous people you can use as fodder for your columns. I daresay you will never be short on titillating material.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But if I haven’t received the funds within one month, I reserve the right to print whatever I choose.”
“Agreed. And one more thing. I want your word that once you’ve taken the money, you will not breathe or write another word about the Gentleman Courtesans. If you do, I will ensure everyone is made aware of the identity of the London Gossip, as well as the events of that night you climbed into my bed. I won’t do myself any favors revealing that last secret, but I’ll gladly suffer the blow to take you down with me. You’ll never be able to show your face in polite society again.”
Cynthia’s face drew tight, her eyes blazing with malice and disgust. “Very well. I will keep your secrets as long as you pay and keep mine.”
She offered him a hand to shake, but Benedict turned and walked away, refusing to ever let that woman touch him again. His skin crawled with the hazy memories he had of the night she’d taken advantage of him. For a time, he had forgotten the details entirely, remembering only waking next to her and finding specks of blood and semen staining the sheets. His father had pretended to ‘discover’ them, feigning umbrage at the evidence of Cynthia’s ruination and demanding Benedict do what was right.
Now, small snatches of the encounter were coming to light, muddled as they were by his drugged state. Just thinking of it made Benedict want to strangle Cynthia where she stood. Had she touched him, he might have given in to the urge.
Thankfully, he escaped with his sanity intact, and was now positioned to get on with his and Alex’s agreement.
