Page 60 of Chasing Benedict
Benedict stiffened, uncertainty welling up in him. “I … I don’t think I should.”
Alex looked disappointed but didn’t argue. “I understand.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to. I love babies, it’s just … I think we need to talk about … everything.”
Benedict’s face flushed at his ineloquent flustering. This felt like tricky territory and he hardly knew where to begin.
“You don’t have to explain,” Alex said, steadily bouncing Ella as he went to a nearby rocking chair.
“There’s still Cynthia and my father to consider. I cannot risk bringing scrutiny upon you, or your daughter.”
“Ben,” Alex murmured, arranging the baby so that she lay against his chest. “When it’s all over we will talk. So long as you know that Ella is the only person I could claim to love more than you. She is a part of me. Where I go, she goes. I think you should consider whether or not you can accept that.”
Alex then diverted his attention to Ella, who still seemed to want to play. She toyed with her rattle and babbled, but Alex held her tight and began to rock while whispering to her, words Benedict couldn’t make out. With nothing left to do or say, Benedict took up the chair the nanny had abandoned, taking in the sight of father and daughter.
His mind still wrestled with the idea of Alex as a papa, but the scene before him made it all-too real. Instead of the revulsion Benedict might have expected to feel, he was riveted to the picture they made—Ella’s innocence framed perfectly by the strong but gentle hold of Alex.
Could he accept that Alex came along with a child? Could he live with that should they choose to recommit themselves to one another?
As Ella drifted off to sleep with Alex’s hand firm at her back, Benedict found his answer.
Yes, he certainly could live with this.
ANOTHER FORTNIGHT PASSEDBenedict by in a flurry of training as his impending match loomed closer. When Fisher wasn’t putting him through his paces, he was in the company of Alex and Ella—who had been let out of hiding now that Benedict knew of her existence. While he wasn’t ready to let himself bond with the girl just yet, Benedict found himself watching her often, noticing that even as a baby she possessed her father’s natural charm. Alex was like a child himself when playing with her, rolling on the rug, bouncing toys across the floor, and producing a range of noises that made Ella laugh every time.
Before Benedict could allow himself to imagine what life might be like with the two of them always underfoot, making him smile and laugh, he needed to know what the future might bring.
The nights were theirs together, and Benedict found their lovemaking was enhanced by freedom from mystery and strife. They lay together talking until they fell asleep, speaking of everything and nothing at all. Despite knowing he would soon have to face Cynthia and his father, Benedict was too happy, too at peace to allow himself to think of it.
“I cannot wait until we return to London for your match,” Alex said.
“We?” Benedict teased.
“You didn’t think you could be rid of me that easily, did you?” Alex replied.
Benedict was content to let matters lie for the time being. A letter had arrived days ago from Aubrey, who had assured him that all was well and quiet in London. The note had been rather short, but Benedict supposed his friend had enough to juggle with a business, a family, and the task he had been entrusted with.
Two nights before they were to set out for London, he and Alex dressed together for dinner. Simmons and Hamond took inordinate care with their attire, with Simmons stuffing Benedict into another colorful waistcoat. This one was a brilliant gold with black trimmings and gleaming buttons, a black cravat serving as a backdrop for a brilliant diamond tiepin. His coat was burgundy worsted, fitting taut through the shoulders due to the muscle he’d packed on these past weeks.
“Perfect,” Alex said as he inspected Benedict from head to toe. “Though … I do wish you’d allow Simmons to trim your hair. You look thoroughly villainous wearing those clothes with that hair. Like a Gothic novel villain.”
“No one is touching my hair,” Benedict said, brushing a small piece of lint off Alex’s shoulder. “And you seem to know more about Gothic novels than any man of my acquaintance.”
Alex sniffed. “Say what you will, they are riveting pieces of art. I’m particularly fond of a new author who has only become popular in the past two years or so. Perhaps you’ve heard of E. Whiswich?”
Benedict barked a laugh, not certain whether it was funnier to reveal that one of his friends was married to this author, or to keep Alex in the dark until he could meet Evelyn Radcliffe. Hugh’s wife had made quite a name for herself—with anom de plume, of course.
“I have a passing acquaintance with the woman.”
Alex’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Please say you aren’t bamming me.”
Benedict shrugged. “Perhaps I could arrange an introduction.”
Alex grabbed his arm, his grip unyielding. “I’ll do anything.”
Benedict allowed a wicked grin to spread across his face. “Anything?”
Alex pulled him by his arm until their chests bumped, pressing a soft kiss to Benedict’s lips. “Absolutelyanything.”
