Page 59 of Chasing Benedict
Alex pulled a face. “I am not the sharing type.Thisis what I have to explain.”
The door swung open and Benedict followed Alex inside. A fire crackled in the hearth, and tapers scattered through the room illuminated soft of yellow and pink décor. Benedict didn’t understand what he was seeing at first, his mind jarred as he gazed over shelves neatly arranged with toys, another chest brimming with more of them, and a rocking horse adorned with yellow ribbon. A small, mousy woman sat in a chair near the fire, knitting needles clicking as she worked.
The woman gazed up at them with an uncertain smile. She stood, set her knitting aside and curtsied. “Good evening, my lord. She’s been fed and is right cheery this evening. Have you come to put her to bed?”
“Yes,” Alex replied, casting a nervous glance at Benedict. “But first, I wanted to introduce her to my guest … and you as well. Rosalind, this is my dearest friend, Mr. Benedict Sterling. Ben, this is Rosalind, the nursemaid.”
It was that final word that rattled through Benedict’s mind, and the reality of what Alex wanted to show him became clear.
Not what … butwho.
Rosalind had uttered a greeting, followed by something else directed at Alex. Benedict heard none of it as he watched the nursemaid cross the room and reached down into a polished oak cradle. She stood upright presenting a child small enough not to be able to walk, but too big to be swaddled. The baby held a delicate rattle in one chubby fists, and alternated between shaking it and drooling on it as the woman approached and handed the babe to Alex.
Benedict stared with disbelieving eyes as Alex held the child close to his chest, running a hand over glossy blonde curls. The infant ignored its father in favor of Benedict, a one-toothed smile and bit of drool making part of him violently rebel and another part surge with curiosity.
“Ben … this is Lady Isabella Harriette Obsborne.”
The girl gurgled and sputtered as she again went at the rattle with her gums. Benedict could feel Alex’s gaze on him, wary and pleading.
“She … she’s your …”
“My daughter,” Alex filled in. “Yes. She is six months of age.”
Benedict did a quick calculation, remembering when he’d read the news of Katherine’s death. By then she had been dead for a few months already.
“Katherine died in childbirth,” he said.
“A few days after,” Alex replied. His voice had taken on a low, reverent quality, as if holding his daughter and speaking of his dead wife required a certain recognition. “Something went wrong … she was weak from losing too much blood and never recovered.”
Benedict glanced about, finding that the nursemaid had left them. Still, he lowered his voice just in case. “How did you … I mean, I knowhow, but …”
“It was difficult,” Alex said, lightly stroking Isabella’s back. “I had resolved years ago that I would never be a father. I couldn’t do what was required to make one. Or so I thought. It was Katherine who convinced me—not because she wanted me in that way. Our friendship was too pure, and she knew that I preferred men. But she wanted a child. I owed her as much, didn’t I? She had married me knowing she would never have passion or real love, only the material comforts of being a countess. She was a wonderful woman—brilliant and sweet and nurturing. Katherine deserved someone to love.”
“So did you,” Benedict said, finding that the words weren’t simply a banal reassurance. Benedict had spent their separation lonely and nursing an ache deep in his soul. He had been alone, with no one to love or love him. He had never stopped to think that Alex’s life might have been weighed down with the same excruciating isolation.
“Perhaps,” Alex said with a shrug. “But I was willing to try for Katherine’s sake. I wanted … I felt it was my duty to ensure that she, at least, enjoyed it, but she asked me not to. She didn’t want to learn what it was like to take pleasure from the act, when she knew it wouldn’t continue after she’d conceived. I visited her night after night, hating myself for being unable to muster at least an ounce of interest. The relief I felt when she was conceived … it was due more to knowing we might never have to do it again. Neither of us particularly cared for it, and we were ready to forget and move on. But then … Ella was born and … and Katherine …”
Benedict grasped Alex’s shoulder and squeezed. “Little Isabella survived. She’s the last piece of Katherine you have left.”
Alex turned tear-filled eyes on him. “Then you understand. I know you have every reason to hate Katherine—”
“I don’t hate her. I barely knew her. It was you I hated for leaving me, but even that hatred was misplaced. I cannot pretend to be happy that you married her, but I also cannot begrudge you finding whatever happiness you could—whether it be as Katherine’s friend, or Isabella’s father.”
Alex’s shoulders slumped with relief, and he smiled as Ella presented the rattle to him. She giggled when he took it from her small hand.
“She looks like you,” Benedict observed. “She has Katherine’s hair, but your eyes and your smile.”
Alex gave him a puzzled look. “She doesn’t have enough teeth for us to know who’s smile she has.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow. “I know your smile when I see it.”
Alex bounced Isabella at his side, angling her toward Benedict. “Ella, this is Ben. We love him … yes we do.”
Benedict offered a finger, which the girl took into her grasp and squeezed. “Hello Lady Ella. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”
The babe offered him a smile, showcasing the single tooth protruding from her bottom gums—which were reddened and swollen, indicating a mate was on the way.
“Would you like to hold her?” Alex asked.
