Rogue in the Regency Ballroom: Rogue's Widow, Gentleman's Wife / A Scoundrel of Consequence. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
reluctantly. ‘I suppose there is nothing like a bright smile to confuse an adversary.’
‘Or charm a friend,’ he countered.
‘You are not my friend.’
‘No, I am much more than that, so don’t fight me, Amanda,’ he said softly, his voice a caress.
‘But I will,’ she said vehemently. ‘I will fight you with every ounce I possess.’
He smiled. ‘Then do so, my love. Torment me all you like—I may even come to enjoy it—but in the end you will be mine. It is your destiny.’
His statement was said with such certainty that Amanda chose to let him have the last word on the subject—for now. This was neither the time nor the place to become embroiled in an argument about their marriage. ‘I trust you find your accommodation to your liking. You are comfortable in your cottage?’
The sweetness of her tone did not conceal the sneer she intended. Kit smiled in the face of it. ‘Perfectly, thank you. I’m looking forward to showing you around.’
Amanda met his eyes unwillingly and saw they were as teasing as a small boy’s. ‘I don’t think so. You really are conceited, Mr Benedict. I cannot think of anyone who has gained my father’s interest as you have done.’
‘Amanda!’ Overhearing his daughter’s remark as he came in with Caroline on his arm, Henry was reproachful. ‘You will watch your tongue and be gracious to Mr Benedict. Employee he might be, but he is also my guest.’
‘Of course. I apologise if I seemed rude, Mr Benedict. I did not mean to cause offence.’
As before, the sweetness of her tone did not conceal the sneer she intended. Kit smiled again. ‘None taken, Mrs Claybourne.’
Dinner was announced and they proceeded to the dining room, Caroline escorted by Kit and Amanda by her father. Once seated, Amanda demurely arranged her skirts, and when she looked up she met Kit’s amused regard across the table as he took his seat. Henry was seated at one end of the dining table and Caroline at the other, from where she nodded at the servants to pour the wine and begin serving.
Content to let Caroline carry on an animated conversation, playing the perfect hostess with a natural flare and elegance she admired, Amanda treated Kit with polite reserve. For most of the time she was distant and ignored him as best she could, but it was no easy matter, for he sat with the infuriatingly natural relaxed elegance of a gentleman born and bred.
As he conversed with her father, somewhere in the past he had obviously acquired a social polish and smooth urbanity that amazed her. He was perfectly able to converse on everything as well as equestrian matters. In fact, he was the perfect guest, with a natural manner that Amanda reluctantly admired.
‘You are certainly well informed on most subjects, Mr Benedict,’ she couldn’t help commenting when he had just finished discussing the present government and what he thought about the Prime Minister, Mr Gladstone’s, second ministry.
Kit smiled at her with bland amusement. ‘I know how to read as well as the next man—and educated woman,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘However, the fact remains that no matter how well educated a woman is she will some day have to submit to the authority of her husband.’
Amanda’s face snapped into a familiar expression of rebelliousness—familiar to her father at least. ‘Some may well do that, but I never will,’ she quipped haughtily.
‘Really?’ Kit mocked, meeting her gaze as he spooned the last of his soup into his mouth, his eyes holding a subtle challenge. ‘You may find that your husband has something to say about that.’
‘Amanda means it,’ Henry chuckled. ‘Self-willed, she is, and defiant and argumentative. Goes her own way, she does, and the devil take the rest. There are times when I wonder how I bred such a daughter. I sent her to Charleston to stay with her aunt, hoping she would meet some personable young man, marry him and settle down and present me with grandchildren. She completed the first part, but unfortunately the young man expired shortly after the wedding without my meeting him—which I regret.’
Amanda toyed with her food, not looking at the man opposite, who was watching her like a cat watching a mouse. How she wished he was back in Charleston Gaol where he belonged.
‘Your husband has been dead long, Mrs Claybourne?’ Kit enquired, placing his spoon down and lounging back in his chair.
‘Seven months,’ she answered tightly, without looking at him.
‘A tragedy it was,’ Henry remarked. ‘She’s far too young to be a widow.’
‘I’m sure Mr Benedict doesn’t want to hear about that, Father. Besides, I still find any discussion concerning my dear departed husband quite upsetting.’ Consciously feigning a sigh, smiling wistfully and dropping her eyes, she said, ‘I’m sure you understand, don’t you, Mr Benedict?’
Kit’s eyes waited on her words, cynical amusement in them, and when she fell silent he said, ‘Oh, absolutely, Mrs Claybourne. Absolutely. It is no easy matter losing someone you care for—and of course you must have loved your husband dearly,’ he said with elaborate gravity.
Seeing his mouth pulled down in mock-sympathy, Amanda felt a furious surge of indignation that he should think her such a fool as to have fallen in love with him. ‘What my feelings were for my husband are my own affair, Mr Benedict. But it would be disrespectful of me to say I wasn’t.’
Having been manoeuvred away from this particular discussion by a meaningful look from Caroline, Henry immediately launched into the subject closest to his heart and talked animatedly about his horses, so Amanda kept herself excluded, despite Kit’s frequent attempts to draw her into the conversation. Her father didn’t appear to notice how quiet she was, and if he did he would probably take it for ladylike reserve.
The meal was delicious and would have done credit to the finest chefs in the land—it must seem like a veritable feast, Amanda thought crossly, to the likes of Kit Benedict. As soon as she had spooned her last mouthful of raspberry meringue into her mouth she broke her self-imposed silence and stood up. Calmly excusing herself, she said she had letters to write that couldn’t wait.
The moment she rose, her gaze met Kit’s own—and Caroline almost saw the lightning flash that passed between them, causing a tension that held and held, teetering on the brink of—what? Catastrophe, or gathering strength for an assault on their emotions, their baser instincts?
Amanda spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, finding it impossible to dispel thoughts of Kit from her mind and unable to understand the turbulent, consuming emotions he was able to arouse in her. Just when everything was running smoothly, this arrogant man with mocking dark eyes and breezy, determined manner—and far too handsome for his own good—had forced his way back into her life.
She recalled the moment when she had risen from the table, the moment her frigid gaze had settled on his features. He had leaned back in his chair, fingering his wine glass. His gaze had raked over her with the leisure of a well-fed wolf, with an irritating smile flirting on his lips. The assured gleam in his eyes had told her he was not going to go away.
Chapter Five
During the days that followed Kit’s arrival at Eden Park, Amanda scrupulously resolved that any future contact between them would be brief and impersonal. It was a decision made calmly and without emotion. But emotion set in whenever she set eyes on him. The effect he had on her, the emotional turmoil he evoked, was nothing short of frightening. In fact her thoughts were so preoccupied with him that she could not sleep.
Kit seemed to be everywhere and perfectly gauged, appearing when she least expected him, lolling on a tree or a fence somewhere, casually striding about the place as if he owned it in search of her father, not once stepping over the line, but for ever battering at her defences.
She was beginning to feel like a