The butler chose a chair from the wall—the one with the thinnest cushion, Violet noted, and set it several feet from the bed at an uncomfortable angle. Violet sat, and then, when Benedict gave another firm nod, the servant disappeared.
“Well, Your Ladyship,” Benedict said. “I’m pleased to see you, although I only wish that the circumstances were more auspicious. Obviously, this is a reminder that I shouldn’t wait until ill health strikes to spend time with old friends.”
No comment at all on recent events.
She had never trusted his smile or his pleasant demeanor. She leveled a look at him. “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Malheur?” she said. “It’s difficult, Benedict. It’s hard for me to be formal when…” When he was sitting in bed looking awful. “When I remember how terrible you are at croquet,” she finished. “I beat you when I was seven and you were fourteen.”
“Yes,” he said. “You did, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and there was something altogether too mild in his tone.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, that’s how it is! I didn’t beat you, did I?”
“Ah.” The hesitation was palpable. He shrugged, noncommittally. “Of course you did.”
“You let me win. All these years, I thought…” Violet shook her head. “Well, that tears it. I refuse to let you call me ‘my lady’ when you falsely proclaimed me Croquet Championess all those years ago. If you are allowed to lie to me, you must call me Violet.”
He smiled at her again. “It’s lovely to see you, Violet. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the visit.”
She snorted. “You always were too kind for my tastes.”
“I know,” he said gamely. “It’s one of the reasons I never made any effort to win you.”
Her lips twitched. “One of the other reasons being that you were married by the time I came out.”
“Yes,” Benedict agreed. “And also because my brother was in love with you.” He smiled. “You were the only thing that Sebastian ever wanted and failed to get. You have no idea how much I appreciated you for that.”
About that…
Violet swallowed. She wasn’t good at cajoling people or getting them to see her way of thinking. She was very good at browbeating them, but then, Benedict had never been susceptible to browbeating. And even she would hesitate before berating a man with a bad heart.
“When I was younger,” she said slowly, “I always hoped you were hiding some horrid secret. You were too nice.” She sniffed. “You have no idea how annoying it is that your horrid secret is a heart complaint, and not, for instance, a double murder committed by moonlight.”
“Gruesome,” he commented. “I’m desolate that I’m unable to oblige you.”
“I know,” she said. “It was a foolish thought. You used to go out of your way to spring the gamekeeper’s traps whenever you saw them. You couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing a rabbit in pain. That’s why I’m finding it difficult to understand what you’re doing now.”
He laughed. “I’m hardly doing anything at all. If you haven’t realized, I’m confined to my bed until further notice, and it’s incredibly boring.”
“I mean,” Violet said, “what you’re doing to Sebastian.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. Instead, he sighed and looked away. “Ah,” he said. “I should have known my little brother would enlist help.” Benedict waved a hand at Violet. “Tell him that I won’t let him win by cheating.”
“He didn’t send me.” Violet swallowed. “In fact, I left him completely alone without any explanation. I just…” She swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you about your brother, because I am not sure that you know him.”
Outside the room, a stair creaked loudly.
Benedict made a rude noise. “I know my brother,” he said. “I know him quite well. I know how good he is at getting others to do his bidding. I know that he’s persuasive and good-looking, that he has only to snap his fingers and the world does as he wishes. He’s a flashy man. Everything comes easily to Sebastian, don’t you know? He drifts because of it—drifts from person to person, from thing to thing, gadding about like a butterfly.” But Benedict’s jaw set, as if he were trying to convince himself, not Violet.
“You know him better than that,” Violet said. “There was a point in my life when I was more ill than you are now. I could scarcely lift my head in bed. My husband was away on business, and I was trapped on his estate, far from my friends and my family. The only one who lived nearby was Sebastian.” She looked away. “He visited me every day. And do you know what he did?”
“What he did? No. But I know precisely why he did it,” Benedict said stiffly. “And—your pardon, my lady—but you have been married. It’s obvious to me what he wanted.”
“He wanted to make me laugh.” She speared Benedict with her gaze. “It was the only thing I had to look forward to, lying in bed without the strength to even hold a cup of water. I would sleep and wake and look at the clock and wonder when he was going to come.”