Page 42 of It Takes Two to Tumble
Hartley raised his eyebrows in an expression of surprise. “Are you?” he asked with an air of insouciance.
Ben leaned towards his brother. “Yes, Hartley. Don’t ever doubt it.”
Hartley looked around the room. “I forgot how snug this little place is.”
Ben glanced at the door, confirming that it was shut. “I’m resigning.”
“What? Why the devil would you do a thing like that?”
Ben smoothed his hand across the still-blank paper before him. “I need to leave. I need a fresh start someplace new. Maybe I’ll settle in a city and serve the poor.” Surely that sounded plausible.
“Well, that’s a fat lot of nonsense,” Hartley said levelly. “You’ve never shown any interest in going farther than Keswick. What does Alice say? Does she fancy living in destitution among the urban poor?”
“I broke the engagement.”
Hartley’s jaw actually fell open. “Well,” he said, recovering himself, “if we didn’t have Easterbrook to worry about, I might be glad to hear it.”
“But you’ve always liked Alice.”
“Indeed I have, but as much as I hate to agree with our father about anything, it seems unwise to marry where there isn’t love.”
“I do love her!” Ben protested.
“You want to shag the captain, though.”
Ben sucked in a breath. Damn it, he ought to have known that Hartley could have seen that. “That’s ludicrous,” he said, his voice thin.
“What’s ludicrous is that you think I don’t know.” Hartley sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if my life would have gone in a different direction if I had an older brother who was less of a saint and more someone I could confide in. But that’s neither here nor there. Listen, Ben, I don’t much care who you fancy and who you don’t. And I daresay the world is filled with happily married people—our parents among them—who fancy people other than whoever they’re married to. But I can’t see that it’s a grand idea for you to marry a girl when you’re keen to bed your employer.”
“He’s not my employer,” Ben gritted out.
The room was silent for a moment as Hartley stared at him. “That’s the part you object to?”
“Yes,” Ben said finally.
“Ah.”
Ben buried his head in his hands.
“And the captain?” Hartley asked.
“Can’t talk about him,” Ben said, his words muffled by his hands.
“Well, that’s an affirmative. Lord. I go away for a few months and everything is quite upside down.” He tapped his gloved fingers on the scarred wood of his chair. “I ought to go away more often.”
Ben looked up. “Very funny, Hart.”
“I’m not jesting. You seemed quite happy at Barton Hall. So did Captain Dacre, for that matter. Merry as grigs. Quite sickening. I congratulate you.”
“I’m miserable now.”
“Yes, well, it’s my understanding that this is the general course for affairs of the heart. Not my field of expertise, but one does hear reports.”
“So glad you’re amused.”
“I’m not. I do think resigning your position is a trifle dramatic, though.” Suddenly his eyes flew wide open and his air of languor dropped away. “Oh, tell me this isn’t because you think your living is ill-gotten gains. That I earned it on my back or whatever the vulgar saying is.”
“Not entirely,” Ben said, but he knew he was an unconvincing liar.
