Page 45 of Their Wildest Dreams

“I should hope so. I went to considerable effort to begin it.”

“And I have spent a considerable amount of time considering my response.”

Harriet’s cheeks colored, but the smile remained. “Then I shall expect a very thorough discussion.”

“You may depend upon it.” Benedict settled back into the chair without releasing her hand. Harriet’s eyes closed a few moments later. He remained there until her breathing deepened and the first daylight appeared beyond the curtains.

Benedict met his father in the lane later that morning. The earl sat stiffly in the saddle, one arm still held close to his body after the previous day’s fall. He had plainly learned of Harriet’s return and Crandell’s betrayal from the men who assisted in the search.

“I assume you are going to Selby’s house,” the earl said, his attention moving to the horse being brought for Benedict.

“Yes.” Benedict mounted. His father’s presence would not prevent him from going, and arguing about it would only delay them. “Harriet told me what he intended to do. If you mean to persuade me to wait for the magistrate, you may save your breath.”

“I have no expectation of persuading you. I mean to prevent you from killing him before I have an opportunity to speak.” The earl turned his horse. “Whether I succeed will depend upon how irritating Selby elects to be.”

They rode in silence. Selby’s butler attempted to stop them in the entrance hall. Benedict pushed past him, opened the study door without knocking and crossed the room before Selby could rise fully from behind his desk. Then he struck him.

The first blow sent Selby into the edge of the desk. Benedict caught the front of his coat and hit him again. “You left her in a field to die.”

Selby raised one arm to protect his face. “I never touched her.”

Benedict hit him a third time. Selby attempted to strike back, but the blow glanced off Benedict’s shoulder. Benedict seized him and threw him to the floor, overturning a chair as he fell.

He followed him down. His fist was drawn back when his father caught his arm and ordered him to stop. Benedict attempted to pull free. “It is not nearly enough.”

“No, but if you kill him, gossip will ruin you both. I doubt she will appreciate the inconvenience.” The earl tightened his grip. “Go outside and allow me to finish this.”

Benedict looked down at Selby. Blood ran from the man’s nose and mouth, but Benedict could summon no regret for it.

“If you ever approach my wife again, I will kill you,” Benedict said. “If you speak her name, send another man to watch her or involve yourself in any matter which concerns her, I will consider it an approach. Do you understand me?”

Selby glared at him without answering. Benedict leaned nearer and repeated the question. Only then did Selby force out a grudging, “Yes.”

He released Selby and rose. His father waited until Benedict had left the study before closing the door behind him.

Outside, Benedict mounted and rode beyond the gates. His knuckles ached, and the anger which had sustained him since reading Crandell’s letter showed no sign of easing. Several minutes passed before his father joined him.

“What did you say to him?” Benedict asked when his father drew alongside.

“That he can take the honorable way out or he can be ruined. The choice is his.” The earl adjusted the reins with his uninjured hand. “If he refuses the first, I will expose his connection to Crandell, find the men who assisted him and ensure every creditor and magistrate with an interest in his affairs receives what we know. He will lose his property, his standing and, very likely, his freedom.”

“Selby has never possessed enough honor to choose it now,” Benedict replied.

“No,” the earl agreed. “But he has proven himself a coward and that may be enough.”

They had ridden only a short distance when a shot rang out behind them.

Benedict reined in and looked back at the house. Birds rose from the trees around it, startled into flight by the sound.

His father did not turn. “He made his choice.” Benedict remained still for a moment. He felt no satisfaction in Selby’s death, but neither could he find any grief for it. Harriet was safe. There was nothing at Selby’s house more important than returning to her, so he turned his horse toward Everton.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

One Week Later

Harriet could not quite curb her nervousness. For a week, she’d been treated like an invalid, cosseted and cared for and terribly restricted. All the while, Benedict had dealt with the local gossip about Selby, death with having Crandell quietly arrested and likely transported. It was a cleaner solution than hanging or imprisonment in a local jail where he could spread the tale.