Page 11 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“Why on God's green earth did you not leave her in London? There are hundreds of thousands of people in that city, a few of which must be related to her. If she is of London, then why did you remove her from London? I am sure her family is worried sick. I would be in a fuss, I will tell you that, should you not return a night you were meant to. I nearly had a panic attack when I saw you returning early!”
“Mother…” Kenneth took a deep breath. “I fear you misunderstand.”
“What am I misunderstanding?” Juliet challenged across the desk.
“I brought her here because she has no family in London. She is not of our class. She is of the lowest class. I saw her in trouble, and I had to do something, I could not just sit by. When I put her in the coach, I did not expect her to wake so soon; I thought she might recover peaceably here.”
“You saved her?” Juliet blinked, dumbstruck. “From what?”
“Street thugs, they were beating her.”
“You saved a street urchin from street thugs and escorted her back to our estate?”
“Well, I suppose that is the sum in shorthand,” Kenneth blundered. “But the term urchin is a foul one, and I think too strong – ”
“You are not Sir Lancelot, my son,” Juliet said sadly. “You cannot behave as if you were. You are the Duke of Worthington, a member of the House of Lords, an important business man, and you need to be married. You know this. Already, some of your other gallant actions have cost you two courtships in the past. Now this, I fear, will impede you even further. While the hero may attract the daughter, it shall push away the father, and that is the one you must enchant. We have spoken of this at length.”
“Yes, yes.” Kenneth sighed. “I know it. But I could not do nothing, Mother, they were beating her. They would have continued until her death, I fear, if I had not intervened. What else could I do?”
“My son.” Juliet went to him and put her hand on his arm. “You have done the right thing. I only chastise you for doing it so publicly.” Kenneth laughed out, seemingly relieved at his lecture. “Well, I can drink to that.” He poured another and put it down, letting out a crisp puff of air afterwards. “So, you have no objection to her recovering here?”
“I cannot with good conscience, can I?” Juliet said. “How long will it take?”
“I fear she has broken ribs. Perhaps two weeks, perhaps a month.”
“Very well,” Juliet accepted. “But if she is well before that, she should be off. It is not our place to take commoners into our home.”
“We have servants,” Kenneth protested.
“And I know each and every one of them.” Juliet countered. “This Leah Benson, I do not know.” She turned to leave the room, shaking her head at her son's spontaneity. It was always something new with him, although this was by far the most ridiculous, interesting, and horrific thing he had ever brought home.
* * *
Kenneth watched his mother leave, and as soon as she was clear from sight, he poured another drink.What a day it has been!
He had begun the day with every intention of attending and loathing a late luncheon by invitation of the Marquess for drinks and discussion regarding the criminal element of London. He enjoyed actual, intelligent conversation on the subject of criminality, as it was an area of interest for him, but it seemed these events inevitably turned to ranting festivals against the lower classes, and not a true academic discussion at all.
But something truly out of the ordinary had happened. It seemed fate had stepped in, just before he was to enter that building. He remembered looking up at the Marquess before he felt the impact of Leah colliding with him. How that collision had altered everything.
Instead of a late luncheon, he found himself in a street fight, however brief, and then the heroic rescuer of a damsel in distress.
Sir Lancelot, my mother jested.Kenneth rather liked the sound of that.
Kenneth slumped into the grand desk chair and kicked it round with his feet so that he could stare through the great window, lit up in all of the moon's brightness.
It seemed the storm has passed, or at least remained over London. Here, on the Worthington estate, the moon shone fiercely over the rolling hills and clusters of trees. It was serene, he thought, and he was glad to be here rather than the hustle of London at this hour.
It was not that he disliked the city, rather that he just thoroughly enjoyed the country. Kenneth would appear happy in either situation, but he would be happiest atop a horse riding through a glen.
He thought about what that crook Nash had spat at him. “There'll be lots more pain coming her way because of you. Might as well just gut her now.”
It was those words he replayed over and over. Those were the words that stood out to him and bore great significance. They meant that the crime was not random; they meant that she had been targeted by those thugs for a reason other than convenience or drunken rage. There was a conspiracy afoot, and he wanted to know the truth of it.
He began to imagine a multitude of possibilities, ranging from the far side of ridiculous to fairly plausible. Still, none of them seemed to fit this strangely-charismatic character he had conversed within the coach. She had real style and wit about her, a true sense of self that he could not find in the ladies of his society, and indeed was a bit envious of.
It was sometimes jested about Kenneth that he had invented himself as an adventurer, for before he went to the army, he had been a timid boy about town. When he had returned from the battle of Paris, he had been a changed man, and when he returned from America, where he took part in the burning of the White House, he had grown even bolder. Then after Waterloo, he had truly realized his own adventurous spirit.
With this Leah Benson, there was no detectable falsehood about her. She was a vividly-clear person, and from their limited exchange he had grown fascinated by her. Her piercing green eyes floated in and out of his mind's eye, and he shook his head as he took another drink.
