Indiscreet

“I see that it is perfect insanity,” Benedict retorted. “If you think that I am going to become engaged to that…that…”

Camilla turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “To that what, Mr. Benedict?”

“Come, come, Benedict, you are usually not so slow,” Sedgewick told him lightly. “Of course, I don’t mean actually engaged. I am talking about a pretense of it. You will ride to Chevington Park tonight with Miss Ferrand. In the morning, you shall meet her relatives, talk to her grandfather and so forth. You stay a few days, then you say that you have to get back to the city, and you leave. The Earl will be reassured and happy, the dragon of an aunt will be routed, and you…well, you will spend a few days at Chevington Park, which I understand is an elegant country house.”

Benedict narrowed his eyes and started to speak, then pressed his lips tightly together. He turned away, growling, “You are as silly as she is. It is impossible.”

“Why? You are well able to act the part of a gentleman, aren’t you?”

Sedgewick’s gray eyes twinkled. “A trifle rude, perhaps, but then, some lords are.”

“Oh, I don’t need a lord,” Camilla stuck in. “Simply a gentleman will do.”

Benedict turned on her. “Don’t tell me that you are actually considering such a harebrained scheme!”

Camilla had had no intention of agreeing to Mr. Sedgewick’s plan. However, Benedict’s sneering tone made her decide that it was worth thinking about after all. Her chin came up, and she glared back at Benedict defiantly. “Why not? It would suit my purposes. And however rough your manners are, you do speak like a gentleman. We might be able to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes for a few days—as long as you avoided talking to everyone as much as possible. I will pay you for it, of course. Wouldn’t that be a better way of making money than thievery? And it will answer my problem. It will make Grandpapa happy, and then, later, I can just pretend that I realized that we should not suit. Or better yet—” her face brightened “—I shall say that you died! That would be perfect.”

“Perhaps for you.”

“Well, only insofar as my family is concerned, of course.”

“It would be a trifle awkward, don’t you think, if they happened to meet me again a few months from now?”

“Don’t be absurd. Why should they meet you?”

“I could run into one of them on the street in London. I am free to walk in London, despite my lack of gentility.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose I shall have to stick to the story that we broke it off.” She sighed. “Pity. The dying story would have been much more dramatic.”

“You’re right,” Sedgewick agreed, his expression disappointed, though his eyes twinkled merrily. “However, I suppose we shall have to be content with the plainer tale.”

“Would everyone kindly stop talking this nonsense?” Benedict burst out. “I am not going to pretend to be your fiancé. I can’t believe that you would even consider it. It is obvious that you are drunk.”

“I am not!” It was true, Camilla acknowledged to herself, that she felt very warm and cheerful, and that her mind was a trifle, well, fuzzy, but she had merely been relaxed by the rum punch. It had not influenced her thinking. “I am open-minded enough to see the value of Mr. Sedgewick’s idea. It would work admirably for both of us. You are simply too stubborn to go along with anything that anyone else says.”

“I am glad that someone appreciates my endeavor,” Sedgewick said lightly, taking out his snuffbox and expertly flipping it open with one hand. “Pinch, my dear Benedict?”

The other man let out an inarticulate growl. “Obviously I am the only person in this room with any sense.” He stalked toward the door and opened it, then turned back. “It doesn’t matter what you two bedlamites cook up, because I am not going along with it!” With that parting shot, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Sedgewick and Camilla stood for a moment, looking at the door, then turned toward each other. Sedgewick gave her a long, considering look, then asked quietly, “Are you willing to do it?”

Camilla gazed back at him, wide-eyed. Was she? This plan would no doubt shock a conventional female like her aunt down to her toes. However, Camilla had always prided herself on not being conventional. She was independent and generally unafraid to tackle any situation. Of course, it was odd that a stranger like Mr. Sedgewick was so willing to help her out of her troubles, but just because a man went out of his way to be kind, that did not mean that she should reject his help. The worst aspect of the plan was having to be around such a rude, insufferable man as Benedict for several days. However, she was quite competent and reasonable, and she was sure that she would be able to manage both the situation and him. Fate had dropped this opportunity into her lap, and she would be foolish not to take advantage of it.

“Yes,” she responded firmly. “I am willing.”

Sedgewick gave her a small smile. “Then I will go talk to Benedict. In the meantime, you may use this parlor to, um, freshen up.”

Camilla almost giggled at the inadequacy of his polite words to describe the daunting task that lay before her. She was caked all over with mud, and she could not imagine how she would ever get it all out of her hair and off her skin without taking a complete bath.

“I shall tell the maid to bring in a pitcher and basin. I’m sure you have a change of clothes in your post chaise.” When Camilla nodded, he went on, “I’ll have my man fetch your bags, then, so you will be able to get into some clean clothes.”

Camilla nodded. “Thank you.”

“No trouble at all.” He started toward the door, then hesitated. “You might want to fortify yourself with another cup of punch, as well.”

* * *

BENEDICT WALKED NO farther than the bench in front of the inn and sat down on it to light a cigar. He had no doubt that Sedgewick would be following him in a moment. For all Jermyn’s exquisite manners, he was like a dog with a bone when he got his mind set on something, and Benedict was sure that he was not about to give up easily on his latest idea.

He had barely gotten his cigar lit when Jermyn came out of the inn and strode over to the bench. Sedgewick stood for a moment, looking down at him. Benedict blew out a cloud of smoke, studiously ignoring the other man.

“Well?” Jermyn asked at last. “Would you like to explain why you are refusing such a golden opportunity?”

Benedict cocked his head to look at him. “Golden opportunity? For what? Making an even bigger hash of things? Wasting what precious time we have? Good Gad, Jer, I think you have gone mad.”

“At least I’m not blind. Or is it hopeless? Have you given up?”

That remark brought Benedict surging to his feet. “No man, not even you, can accuse me of giving up.”

“Oh, give over, Rawdon,” his friend retorted equably. “I know better than anyone how little likely you are to give up. When everyone had given you up for lost there in the Peninsula, I was the only one who was certain that you would find your way back to your own lines—and bring back your comrades as well, even though you had caught two balls in your leg. After all, I was the one who had had to suffer to the bloody end through every ghastly childhood escapade you dreamed up. However, I cannot understand why you are so unwilling to do this.”

Benedict goggled at him. “You have come unhinged, Jer. Anyone could see that it’s utterly impossible. Pretend to be engaged to that…that hoyden? It wouldn’t last a day. We would be at each other’s throats in a half hour. No one could believe that we are wanting to marry each other.”

“Why not? She’s an attractive woman…underneath that mud, I mean.”

“How can you tell? Hell, it’s not her attractiveness. I’ll grant you that she has a pleasant face.”

The other man groaned. “Pleasant? Didn’t you see those eyes? Blue and sparkling…”

“And a passable figure.”

“Now, I know you haven’t changed that much. No matter what Annabeth did to you, surely you can still appreciate a damn fine figure.”

“Oh, all right. Yes, she has a most delectable body.” Benedict’s voice roughened faintly on the words as he remembered how that body had felt as it slid through his hands, the brief moments when his fingers had brushed over her ripe breasts as they struggled. “And no doubt she has skin like an angel beneath all that mud. But that is beside the point. It is not her physical appearance that is the problem. It is her personality. We have been at each other like hammer and tongs from the instant we met.”

“You think there are not husbands and wives who are the same way? You must have lived too sheltered a life in the military.”

“Of course I’ve seen battling couples. But surely they were not like that when they were first betrothed.”

“Nonsense. There are some who simply love to fight. Remember Capston? He and the baroness couldn’t get through the day without a disagreement, but he was mad about the woman.”

“Capston was mad, period.”

Sedgewick shrugged. “So? These people don’t know you. How are they to know that you are not mad, also? Besides, there are other reasons people marry, you know, besides compatibility. There are bloodlines, wealth, titles—”

He stopped abruptly, casting a guilty glance at Benedict. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Yes,” Benedict retorted flatly. “I am well aware that there are those who marry for wealth and titles. And it is precisely because of my experience, Jermyn, that I do not want to get involved in this. Do you think that I could trust my safety and the safety of all our agents to a woman?”