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—
Mrs. Peabody's Society Papers

Benedict laughed, amused that the lady would
accuse him so hotly of something that was truly not even his
fault.

She
had accosted him.

She
had fallen on him.

She
had leaned in and kissed him.

Fine, so the last part was slightly
exaggerated, but still, she was just as guilty. No woman should
have such soft lips.

"What will you do?" Agatha asked, arms
crossed.

By the look in her eyes he knew he had one of
two choices. Laugh it off and kick her out of his home with a
hearty farewell or make her privy to his true intentions. After
all, he did have some pride to salvage. To think, a woman denying
him… and a spinster no less!

"I'm so pleased you've asked, and to think I
was just readying myself to come over to your house and tell you of
my plans."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Which is why you
were still sleeping when I knocked on the door."

"I was merely meditating on the sweet words I
would utter to my beloved."

It was Percy's turn to snort, and Agatha
coughed behind her hand.

"Besides," Benedict added with a stretch, "to
say what happened against my door was a knock would be a terrible
injustice. It was more of a bang, or something akin to a cannon
exploding in my bedchamber. Now, if you will be so kind as to
excuse me, I have a call to make."

With determination, he offered a smile.

He wasn't sure if it was the smile or the
speech, but his aunt promptly fainted.

Three hours later, after an ungodly amount of
smelling salts, tea, and instances when he saw his aunt's ankles,
she was packed into a carriage and sent home.

"Do you think she was feigning illness?"
Baldwyn said beside him. Apparently Benedict hadn't been the only
one to be roused from his sleep in the early morning. In fact,
Baldwyn had smartly chosen to break his fast at Benedict's home
while Agatha stormed into Benedict's rooms to scold him.

Baldwyn had it easy, however. He simply
needed to speak to the girl's father and all would be done.

Benedict had to fight.

But he was used to winning.

And how difficult could it be to win a
spinster's heart?

Try Again

Katherine pleaded with
her
parents to allow her to return to the country. Instead,
it seemed the more she begged, the more resolute they were in their
decision.

Distressed, she had taken to her rooms.

A knock sounded at her door.

Please let it be a thief coming to steal her
away or perhaps knock her senseless? And then she could wake up
confused as to how she had become ruined the night before.

She wanted to forget any of it had
happened.

It was too mortifying.

Too horrible.

Everything, except the stolen kisses.

But they didn't count. Everyone knew kisses
only counted when they were given in earnest, and if Benedict was
earnestly kissing her, well, the whole idea would be ludicrous.

He was merely competitive and a seducer of
innocents and truly the worst sort of man. Well, he had been
successful in ruining her, and now the only course of action was to
go about a betrothal and wait for him to inevitably end things.
Then she could go back to the country and die alone.

Splendid.

Not exactly how she had imagined her life
would turn out.

Another knock came, this one a bit more
insistent.

"Enter," she said, thoroughly disgusted with
herself for entertaining dreams of the rogue's kisses.

"He's here," said her maid Nancy in a tiny
voice.

Katherine picked a feather off of her pillow
and huffed. "Who?"

"You told me not to utter his name,"
whispered Nancy.

Shivering, Katherine sat up. "You mean
he's
here?"

"The very one."

"Well, who let him in?" she all but
screamed.

"Your mother. Seems she was overwrought after
the scandal sheets were delivered. Allow me to speak frankly?"

"Always."

"It is worse than you thought upon your
return last night, my lady."

"How much worse?" Katherine asked, sick with
dread.

Nancy drew a deep breath,"Much."

Well, that was descriptive and helpful. She
had to think. Her eyes darted to the window.

"I fear the fall would kill you." Nancy read
her thoughts.

Drat.

Allowing herself a few minutes of silent
pity, Katherine closed her eyes and sighed. Things could always be
worse. She could be deathly ill, or perhaps crippled, or blind,
or…

She shuddered. After all, it was never a good
sign when one had to think of death in comparison to her current
situation.

Katherine managed to make it down the stairs,
though she took great pains to methodically count each step, for in
her mind, it was a reminder of how many steps she would take until
she entered the inferno.

How was it, she wondered, that God allowed
such a man to live?

Upon entering the room, she was given her
answer.

For like Lucifer himself, the man was too
beautiful to kill.

Curse him.

"Ah, my dear, there you are!" Her father
embraced her and patted her on the head. But Katherine's eyes never
left the duke's.

"Your grace." She curtsied quickly and walked
behind the sofa to put distance between them. Merciful heavens, why
weren't there any windows open?

"If I may be so bold, you look extravagant
this morning, my lady." Benedict gave her a stare that made her
heart flutter in all the wrong places. Treacherous body! Perhaps
she should have taken her luck with the fall out of the window.

"You may not be so bold," Katherine clipped.
"Especially when you freely give such compliments without as much
as smiling."

"Apologies." He grimaced, though to be fair
it was probably the closest to a smile she was going to get.

"Yes, well, as long as it doesn't happen
again."

"Katherine!" her mother scolded. "After
everything that has transpired, do you not think you should show a
little more favor to the duke? After all, as of an hour ago, you
are officially engaged."

Suddenly glad she was leaning on the settee,
Katherine sputtered, "S-surely not!"

Benedict's eyes shimmered with merriment as
he narrowed his gaze and approached her. "But, my dear, you seemed
so much more keen on the idea last night."

Fists planted firmly at her sides, it took
every ounce of strength not to lash out at the man. He wanted this
marriage less than she did. What the devil was he up to? What
happened to the two weeks' time in which she had to court him, and
he was going to cry off like the fool he was?

"Then perhaps you should refresh my memory,
for I do not remember hearing any sort of proposal from your
lips."

"No," he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Why
weren't her parents doing anything? She looked from left to right.
Drat, they had abandoned her, and the door was closed. Well, there
was no way out of this one. She would just have to fight.

She pushed against him; he grasped her
clenched hands. "So you want me to refresh your memory, do you?"
His breath tickled her ear.

"If you touch me, I'll scream."

"Not the first time a woman's felt the need
to do that in my presence, I assure you. Besides, with my certain
skill set, your mother will simply blush profusely all the while
fanning herself, and your father would be more likely to pat me on
the back than shoot me."

"How can you be so sure of yourself?"

"Because." A smug look crossed his chiseled
face. "I promised to fix everything."

Interesting that he would do anything so
noble. "Just what do you intend to fix?"

"First, I'm going to fix this business about
ruining you. Second, I'm going to pretend to be infatuated, though
it won't be terribly hard considering you kiss like a courtesan.
And third? Third, I'm going to get to the bottom of this business
with my aunt trying to pair us up."

Katherine burst out laughing. Oh, the poor
deluded man. "Your aunt was doing nothing of the sort, you arrogant
beast!"

"Clearly, you've hit your head." Benedict
stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. "She told me I
was to be married, and mentioned you'd…"

Suddenly his face went very white.

"Mentioned what? Our names in the same
sentence? Believe me, your aunt would never align us. She had much
higher aspirations for me."

Benedict grabbed her shoulders turning her
ever so slightly closer to his body. "Explain."

"She penned a note about the Winter's
Festivities and mentioned to my parents how eager she was for me to
meet the Duke of Paisley."

"Paisley? But he's to be with…"

While he was making calculations, she stepped
back out of his reach. The man was too handsome by half, and it
seemed near impossible to think in his presence. It was why she was
always so clumsy around him. Paisley had always been kind to her as
a child, and Benedict, well, he brooded and girls swooned.

At least now when he brooded, they guarded
their virtue with fans.

"Look at it this way, your grace. It seems
your aunt deemed Paisley good enough to have a choice between me
and Lady Anastasia. I'm sorry all I have is the information given
me, but I do not believe she was trying to trap you, at least not
with me."

"Why not with you?" he roared.

Why the devil was he allowed to be
offended?

Why not, indeed.
"Because I'm a
Kerrington, and we do not associate with rakes."

"You're a spinster."

"I'm a woman."

"I think we've established that at least four
times."

"The same amount of times I've accosted you.
Interesting." Katherine moved to the door, but his hand slammed
across the knob.

"Am I that blackened? Tell me you didn't
dream of my kiss, don't want my hands on your body. Tell me you
don't desire me, and I'll restore your reputation and cry off,
forgetting this whole business."

Her body screamed for her to give in to his
touch, his masculine scent of soap and tobacco, the gleam in his
eyes that promised wicked pleasure.

But as soon as she allowed herself the image
of what it would be like to be in his arms, her mind conjured up
Paisley. If there was a chance, however slight, that she could be
with him…

She cleared her throat. "The only thing I
feel for you is revulsion, and that is the truth."

He blinked at her before stepping back, and
looked again at her face as if confused. Without another word, he
opened the door and took a deep breath, giving her one final
glance. It didn't seem possible, but his eyes held pain.

Perhaps the man had feelings after all.

Impossible Suddenly Quite Possible

Benedict walked to
his
carriage in silence.

He couldn't find the words to say anything,
not even "Whites," which was exactly where he wanted to go, but
truthfully if his footman suddenly had an inkling to go to the
moon, Benedict would have been more than willing.

Anything to get rid of this ridiculous itch
on his chest.

Well, perhaps it wasn't on his chest.

More like inside his chest, not truthfully an
itch, more like a feeling, cursed word that
that
was.

And if he was being honest with himself, it
felt quite a lot like the day his nanny chose to give Paisley a new
toy and scolded Benedict for being naughty.

Then again, this feeling was much worse. It
was hard to breathe, as if each time he opened his mouth he was
only able to suck in so much air before his lungs collapsed
altogether.

His footman waited patiently.

"Whites," he finally croaked, thankful he was
able to at least get that much out.

When had that chit gained the upper hand?

His mind was fuzzy as to how a person could
outsmart him, and a woman no less. Had she any idea who he was?
What he could do to her if he so chose?

Perhaps he felt positively ill because he
knew exactly what Agatha was up to. Never would he consider her mad
again, for she had played her cards well.

She had set up a trap, and he had fallen
quite perfectly for the bait. Whatever she was up to, he would find
out.

The rub, it seemed, was that he truthfully
could do nothing to salvage Katherine's reputation. It was good and
ruined, which really was a pity. Reputations should be ruined for
good reason, not stolen kisses or happy accidents, or in his case,
assault.

No, it seemed only fair that she be well and
truly ruined, the way a woman with lush curves and pouty lips
should be.

In bed.

He laughed.

Most likely his footman now thought him mad,
but he didn't care.

His conscience nagged at him, stupid thing
that it was. He had tried to dispel it years ago to no avail.

How was he to ruin a girl already ruined, who
despised him and to whom he was also engaged?

Well, he was always one for puzzles.

Now all he needed was some very strong tea
and a few hours to come up with a plan. Yes, she would rue the day
she told the Devil Duke she had no feelings for him. She would rue
the day she told him "no".