But he kept his mouth shut and recognized that her suggestion made far more sense than intimidation, so he dug into his pocket and pulled out several more coins. Opening the satchel, he dropped them in and then extended his hand.
The wench took the coin, and with a smile, started for the door. “Your wife is very forgiving—and smart too.”
“I’m not his wife, dear.” The duchess said crossing her arms. “And you’d better leave before your mouth gets you into any more trouble.”
The other woman took the advice and with a final nod disappeared.
Ben returned to the seat and began staring into the glass of whisky once again. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d wished his father dead on multiple occasions. He’d only come here twice in the last ten years. Why should he be sullen now? He was finally free from his father’s tyrannical rule.
To be fair, he’d been free for years. His mother had left him a small amount of coin and Ben had used it wisely. He had a great affection and an even better eye for horseflesh. He’d used it to make a living among the elite.
The duchess walked into the room, the bottom of her soggy skirts dragging on the thick carpet.
She’d been the only other member of the family in attendance at the funeral, other than her five-year-old son. He ran his hand through his hair. His half-brother. What was the brat’s name again?
“We need to talk,” she said, taking the seat across from him.
He frowned, his eyes still on the glass. “Is it not apparent that I am not in a talking mood?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. A halo of blonde hair was expertly coiffed around her angelic features. Distantly, he recognized that she was an attractive woman. Odd, because he barely knew her, but she felt more like his sister than anything else. “If I caved to male blustering, I would have crumbled under your father’s iron rule years ago.”
His brows lifted and he had to confess, in that moment, he realized he’d underestimated this woman. She was excessively beautiful and rather well-endowed and he’d assumed that meant she was soft. “Fair enough.”
She straightened in her seat. “First I need to know if you plan to remove us from the house now that you’ve returned.”
Remove her from the house? He wasn’t the most caring man. In fact, he kept a great deal of distance between himself and…well…everyone but still. “What kind of selfish bastard do you think I am?”
She cocked her chin to the side as she assessed him. “I have no idea what kind of selfish bastard you are. Nor do I know what sort of selfish bastards your other brothers are. They’ve never graced me with their company and neither have you.”
“You’re a great deal saltier than I expected,” he said, finally taking a swallow of his whisky. Because the conversation required fortification.
“What did living with your father do to you?” she asked, one eyebrow quirking.
He sat back in his chair because the woman had a point. One he respected a great deal. “I’ve no intention of sending you away.”
Her shoulders slumped, relief clear in every line of her face. “Thank you.”
He was tempted to ask why she might think that. But why wouldn’t she? His father was as ruthless as he was pious. Of course, she’d expect the same from his eldest son.
His hand flexed around his drink. “I must confess. I don’t know your name.”
Her lips pressed together, a small sign of disapproval, before she answered. “Esme.”
“Benedict,” he returned.
“I know,” she said, sinking back in her chair. “Everyone knows the name of the heir to a dukedom, Your Grace. Just like I know most of the family calls you Ben.”
Called. They had called him Ben in his youth. He hadn’t seen a single one of his siblings in years. A niggle of regret worked its way into his stomach. Mayhap that was the whisky. But he wondered where his three brothers were now. What they’d done with themselves.
His sister…he knew she was tucked away at some finishing school. More the better for her.
The problem was that he now had two women under his protection. And Ben was a man who preferred to be lone wolf. He looked at Esme. She was young, attractive. She’d remarry easily enough. “Esme.”
She gave him a wary side glance. “Yes?”
“I am going to need your help.”
“How so?”
He fingered the glass. Subtly was not his strength, but he gave it his best attempt. “As soon as it’s proper, I’d like you to take Millicent to London. My sister should wed, posthaste.”
Esme gave a tentative nod. “Of course.”
“And if you should meet an engaging lord while you’re there…”
Her breath hissed. “You’d also like me to remarry as soon as possible.”
He was spared answering, when a knock sounded on the open door. Finally. A person who actually knocked. But as his eyes rose, he grimaced again.
Because standing in the doorway was his childhood friend, the Honorable Jacob Veritas. Being the third son of an earl, he’d entered the legal profession, becoming a barrister. Ben’s father’s barrister, to be precise.
“Your Grace,” Jacob gave a short bow. “May I come in?”
He’d been expecting Jacob. There were legal matters to be put right. Though much of his father’s estate was entailed, some money, land, and assets were not. Ben suspected his father’s dealings with the church had actually proven profitable.
His father had sunk deeper into his religious beliefs as he’d gotten older, not that they softened him in any way. In fact, they’d made him harder, more rigid. He’d lecture endlessly on sin. And the boys had gotten the stick often in the name of making them more pious. This entire house, Whitehaven, had been built with gothic revival architecture, in his father’s zeal for traditional religious beliefs.
Ben hated the
