Page 50 of Chasing Benedict
He missed his shower-bath and was weary of bathing at the washstand, but had no other option. Incidentally, Benedict found he didn’t miss his townhouse so much as he did the comforts of the familiar. If Alex owned a shower-bath, he might never want to leave.
Benedict nearly stumbled over his own two feet at that thought, chiding himself for being fanciful. He wasn’t a young, romantic idiot and anymore, and had gotten by on stoic pragmatism long enough to know it was easier. It was also cleaner. Romantic notions had led to his downfall.
As he neared the staircase, the sight of Alex made his heart’s rhythm accelerate. He was delectably dressed for dinner, making Benedict desperate to bathe and attempt to match his elegance. It seemed a near impossible feat.
At the sound of his footsteps, Alex turned, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. “Ben, there you are! Dinner will be served shortly.”
“Good,” he replied. “I’m starving. I won’t be long dressing.”
“Before you go, I should tell you … we’re having guests this evening.”
Benedict halted with one foot on the bottom step, and turned just as two people emerged from the nearest salon. Dread overwhelmed him as he recognized Dominick Burke, as well as his newly-wedded wife, Calliope. They both looked sensational after an extended wedding trip, and months spent inspecting the properties Nick had inherited. Benedict was so used to seeing Nick staggering drunk and irreverent that it was difficult to believe this new version of his friend existed. He was immaculately dressed, wearing a genuine smile, and the clarity in his bright green eyes said he was completely sober. His dark brown hair was trimmed and pushed back from his forehead, his jaw smoothly shaved.
Calliope, who was of both English and Indian ancestry, was startlingly beautiful—with copper-brown skin, inky black hair, and large, dark eyes. She smiled at him as if greeting a long-lost friend. They hadn’t known one another long, but had forged a friendship built on the fact that they both wanted the best for Nick.
“Nick … Calliope,” he managed, while tamping down the panic churning in his gut. “What are you doing here?”
He needed to know. If this concerned Cynthia or another of their friends, Benedict needed to deal with whatever catastrophe had occurred.
“We happened to stop through Kent on our way back to London,” Nick replied, one hand rested casually at Calliope’s waist. “Since I haven’t seen Alex in years, I thought to pay a call and introduce them. An afternoon call turned into a tour of the house and grounds, and an invitation to stay here until we’re ready to continue to London.”
“It was very gracious of you, my lord,” Calliope said to Alex.
“Think nothing of it,” Alex replied, turning his winning smile onto Nick’s wife. “And please, there need be no formalities between us. I’d like you to call me Alex.”
“And you may call me Calliope … or Callie.”
“I didn’t expect to find you here, Ben,” Nick remarked, giving Benedict a pointed look.
There was a silent accusation in his eyes, and Benedict knew the cause. When last they had spoken of Alex, Benedict made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their former friend. Of course, Nick didn’t know the reasons behind Benedict’s ambivalence, and had erroneously supposed that the reason was Katherine. He had accused Benedict of wanting Katherine and hating Alex for stealing her away.
“Alex and I have made amends,” Benedict replied. “While he was in London for a brief visit, I mentioned that I needed a spacious, quiet place to train for my next match. He offered to bring me to Kent and allow me to use his home. We’ve only been here a few days.”
Alex shifted from one foot to the other, looking away from the tense exchange as Nick eyed Benedict with suspicion. Their friend had often acted the fool in his youth, but they both knew him to be more perceptive than he let on. It would seem Benedict’s paltry explanation wasn’t good enough to appease his curiosity.
“I see,” Nick murmured. “I seem to recall inviting you to use any one of my homes.”
“Yes,” Benedict said. “But I knew you and Calliope had been traveling and had no idea where you were.”
Nick offered no response, and Calliope looked on with anxiety marring her features. Alex went on staring down the corridor in strained silence, seeming uncertain how to inject his customary charm into this situation.
Clearing his throat, Benedict returned to the stairs. “I will join you all shortly. I cannot subject Calliope to the sight of me after training while she eats her dinner.”
Calliope giggled and called after him. “You’re as devilishly handsome as always!”
Benedict trotted up the stairs, his mind racing as he thought over a plan for getting through Nick and Calliope’s visit. Their presence meant he and Alex would have to practice vigilance to avoid being found out. He had no idea how Nick would react to the news that he and Alex were lovers and didn’t care to find out. It would be just another thing complicating a situation that was convoluted enough.
He rushed Simmons through his toilette, frowning at himself in the mirror once he was dressed. Benedict hadn’t been paying attention to the items his valet had chosen, and had only just noticed the waistcoat he’d been buttoned into. The garment was a deep purple silk, enhanced by silver threads in a floral pattern. The buttons matched the silver threads, and the cut of the collar framed his stark white cravat and jaw to perfection.
“Simmons, this isn’t my waistcoat,” he said, despite noting that it fit as if it had been made for him.
“Of course it is, sir.”
Benedict narrowed his eyes at Simmons, who had begun gathering his training clothes and boots. “I’ve never seen it before, and you’ve never purchased fabric like this for me.”
Simmons’s lips twitched as he straightened and looked Benedict in the eye. “I have not, sir. The fabric was a gift. I was instructed to visit a tailor in Canterbury to have the waistcoat made for you. It was a rush order … arrived just this afternoon.”
“Alex,” Benedict grumbled, running a hand over the waistcoat and noting the fine delicacy of the fabric combined with the sturdiness of the lining. “He’s behind this.”
