If He's Noble (Wherlocke #7)

“Since what she is doing is all to gain a title and money, to make herself more important, then, aye, evil is a word that fits. She also showed her new hirelings how she responds to failure.”


“Fear to keep them in line. She is fond of that trick. I now see she used it on me but I have watched her use it on women she needed to hold her place in society no matter how foolish her husband was. Everyone has secrets and she had a very calm, cold way of letting any who thought to criticize her that she knew all of theirs and would have no trouble whispering it into a few important, influential ears. I always thought that was so malicious. Actually said as much to her and she calmly told me that it was how one held one’s place in society. I thought some of it was also a bit of revenge for something bad one of them may have said about her or her husband.”

“Not uncommon in society.”

“It has never sounded like a particularly pleasant place, or rather group, to me and I have managed to avoid it.”

“I was never invited in but from what I have seen amongst the ones in my family who have dealt with it, it is complicated, cutthroat, and often just plain cruel. I have no idea why so many are so desperate to become part of it.”

Bened banked the fire, tugged off his boots, and climbed beneath the blanket of his rough-ground bed. He watched as Primrose did the same and chuckled at her grimace. “It is not bad unless you have found a rock.”

“It all feels like rock to me but I will manage. I just do not understand why men would actually choose to do such a thing.”

“For the thrill of the hunt.”

After shifting around a little, Primrose found a reasonably comfortable position and closed her eyes. “I think it must be a great thrill, for after a night on the ground the whole lot of you must be creeping about the woods like crippled old men. I am certain it makes the hunt very challenging.” She smiled as Bened’s laughter followed her into sleep.

Bened watched her sleep. There were scars on Primrose’s mind and heart, ones put there by a cruel woman who thought she deserved more than she had. If the remembering had begun, there would be a few hard days ahead. It pained him to think it but the world would be a better place without Augusta Wootten in it.

He was just slipping into sleep when she whimpered. He looked at her and saw tears leaking from beneath her closed eyes. Bened sighed and tugged his bedding closer to hers. It would be uncomfortable but he could not leave her hurting like that so he put his arm around her, tugged her close, and calmed her. To his surprise she made a sound as if something pleased her and huddled even closer, resting her head on his shoulder. It was going to be a long night, he thought, as any urge to sleep was pushed aside by other basic urges it would take time to quell.





Chapter Seven


Bened glanced over at Primrose and grinned. She was looking very flushed and he doubted it was because she had woken up in his arms. It was a warm day and he knew women’s fashions, even the plain serviceable gown she wore, were not the most comfortable attire to wear for a long ride in the sun. The look on her face told him she really wanted to complain but was biting her tongue. The touch of amusement that brought him was a welcome relief from the tight knot of desire he had suffered from for most of the night while thinking far too much about the kiss they had shared.

“’Tis nearly midday,” he said, “and I would like to pause for a bite to eat.”

Primrose tore her gaze from the cool temptation of the river she could see through the trees. “Oh, that would be lovely. Someplace in the shade. And I will take some time to wash off the dirt.”

“What dirt? You look quite fetching. There is a pretty gloss to your skin from the sun.”

“You mean the dew?”

“The what?”

“The dew. That is what my mother used to call it. She said women did not sweat, they became dewy. It will be nice to wash away the dew and the dust of the road with some cool river water.”

“Huh. Dew. That is a very ladylike way of speaking of it. But, I am not sure you should go to the river. We are too close to your aunt’s trail, which appears to matching right along with ours. Might not be safe. River is not too safe, either.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke. She bit her lip and looked at the river. He was teasing her and it astonished him. It had been years since he had done any teasing, especially with a woman. Bened found that he was enjoying himself.

“It is not dew,” she snapped as she dismounted the moment they halted beneath some trees. “It is sweat. I am sweating like a hard-run horse and I wish to wash it off. And my feet hurt. They feel as if they are twice the size they were when I put my boots on. I want to put them in that water. ’Tis calling to me.” She yanked a small towel and some fresh stockings from her bag. “I am going down to the river,” she added in a tone that practically begged him to argue with her.

“Go then. Answer the call. Or, you could just allow your feet to answer it.”