An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 18.0. Hours Of Claustrophobic Impatience

   "Are you here?" she whispered almost inaudible into the dusty gloom of the mill tower house. If anyone asked what she was doing, she would of course claim to be hunting the glove. But it would be a lie. She hoped desperately to find evidence that Benedic had been here in recent days.

   There was no answer, no sign of him. Broken boards, some cord, a post, and several rusted axles forced her to tread a careful path into the tower house. Already the hem of her light wool dress wore a ruffle of gossamer strands of dust and cobwebs.

   Benedic had left no evidence of his visits to this desolate place.

   "Where are you?" she whispered.

   A rectangle of light fell to her as the tower door creaked open. She turned, heart in her throat, at the gruff questioning voice behind her.

   "Did we find what we are looking for?" Sir Edward asked in a stage whisper.

   She pivoted, trying not to show he had startled her, how reluctant she was to be alone with him. "The glove—"

   "Is this it?"

   He entered the tower, bending at the waist to pick up the pair of gloves Chloe must have dropped. "These are blue, and a pair. I thought—"

   "Oh, they're mine," she said in embarassment. "Miss Rodkin's glove is yellow."

   "Shall we put them back on you?" he asked, the perfect gentleman. Stately, trim, his bearing erect, his demeanor gallant. Holding aloft her delicate gloves.

   "No." She had answered too fast, but she did not want him to touch her. She could not bear to be touched by the hands that might have caused her brother's death and scarred Benedic in body a d soul. Just being alone with Edward in this isolated place made her eager to escape his company.

   He glanced around. "Someone said that this tower is haunted. There have been lights seen here at night."

   Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. "I hadn't heard."

   He gazed at her directly. "Do you believe in ghost?"

   Where was he leading? "Perhaps," she replied. "Certainly there are people who haunt us all our lives."

   He smiled, considering her more closely. "A provocative answer."

   "It was a provocative question." She edged away with a giggle, playing the lighthearted female to the hilt. "I thought the glove might be hidden in—" She held her breath. The floor had moved. She was sure of it. The floorboard beneath the broken window had . . . lifted. Dear God. Was Benedic about to pop up like a jack-in-the-box? Had she led Sir Edward to his hiding place? Well, at least she knew now he was still alive and up to his usual dangerous mischief.

   Edward's alert gaze followed hers. "What is it?"

   "A . . . a . . . a rat, I think."

   "A rat?" He looked amused. "Are you—"

   She screamed at the top of her lungs and lunged into his arms, hitting him in the chin with her reticule. Her shriek nearly brought down the dusty rafters of the tower. Sir Edward blinked in surprise, then started to laugh.

   "There! There!" Charlotte shrieked, pointing in horror to the opposite side of the tower.

   Edward swung around.

   "He's gone," Charlotte breathed, crossing her hands over her heart. "Oh, thank goodness. How brave you were, Sir Edward. I swear the thing was enormous—with burning red eyes and long yellow fangs."

   He took her elbow, clearly comfortable coming to the rescue of a helpless female. A commotion of footsteps resounded outside the unhinged tower door, and James appeared with his brother and Paulina beside him. "Even a seasoned officer such as me is afraid of rats, my dear," Edward admitted with a deep chuckle. "Disgusting creatures, living in dirt and darkness."

   James waved the hidden glove over his head. His boots and the hem of his cashmere pantaloons dripped water onto the floor. "I found it! I knew I'd seen Jim in those reeds. Come on and claim the prize with me, Charlotte."

   She did not resist as he drew her away from Sir Edward's side. It took all her willpower not to glance back at the floorboard that had moved. She was positive it had not been her imagination.

   Did Sir Edward know anything? He had given her no indication that he suspected that Benedic was even alive; if he did, he was practiced enough in deception to hide his thoughts. Charlotte couldn't help wondering how he'd react if he learned that she had become involved with the nephew he'd intended to murder.

   Her fingertips felt icy as she slipped her gloves back on. "Do join us outside, Sir Edward. This place is oppressive."

   Had she sounded convincing? She thought she saw him glance once again in the corner before he turned toward her.

   Paulina pushed the tower door open and light poured into the penumbral gloom, illuminating the angular planes of Sir Edward's face. He smiled at Charlotte, but not before she caught the hard glint in his eye.

   Even her return into the sunlight did not make her feel any warmer. Her coldness came from within. It was only a matter of time until Edward discovered the truth and reacted. Benedic would have to bring his deadly game to an end before much longer.

   Benedic unclenched his first one finger at a time. He felt the chill sweat of relief break out across the tense muscles of his back. From his cramped position beneath the trapdoor at the back of the tower, he had overheard every word of the conversation between his uncle and Charlotte. He had listened with a blood rage filling his mind.

   If Edward had touched her, had threatened her in any way it would have been all over. He would have died at Benedic's hand before he realized what had happened. Only now that Charlotte had safely gone did Benedic loosen his death grip on his dagger. The stinging surge of blood returning to his fingers helped to restore his sanity.

   "I cannot go on like this," he muttered as he blindly felt his way back along the chalky tunnel. He would have to wait until evening before he could return to his house. Hours of claustrophobic impatience, of not knowing what Edward was doing, where he was.

   Yet Benedic had never been closer to bringing his vengeance to fruition than he was now. Two nights ago he had discovered documents hidden in Edward's campaign chest that provided more evidence of his crimes, how he had paid to have Gukha rebels ambush Bernard and Sebastian, how he sold military secrets to the French. In his arrogant belief that he was too clever to be caught, Sir Edward had put more than a few condemning details of his treachery to paper, clues to the identities of the agents who had worked with him during the war, of the information he had revealed in Portugal while he served in the regular army.

   With Aleister's help, Benedic had gained enough knowledge to fill in the gaps and instigate a formal Crown investigation. It was time to play his hand.