The Match of the Century (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

T
hey heard the men searching for Elin long before they saw them. Ben kicked the horse forward.

A line of men were beating their way through the woods. There must have been fifty of them. Gavin never did anything halfway.

“Hello there,” he said to the man nearest him, startling the man. “Where is the duke?”

“Here now, what do you want with His Grace?” a man’s voice said. Ben recognized Talbert, his brother’s man of business. Talbert was dressed in country attire as if he was ready for some shooting. He was a short man of middling years. He had also served Ben’s father.

At the same time, Talbert recognized Ben, although he wasn’t certain. “Lord Benedict?”

“Yes, it is I,” Ben said, a heaviness weighing on his conscience. He was returning. Only for Elin would he go back.

“With all that hair, my lord, I couldn’t tell.”

“Talbert, have you met Miss Morris?”

If Ben had revealed he’d discovered the Holy Grail, Talbert’s reaction would have been no different. The man hopped from one foot to the other. “Hold her here, hold her here,” he repeated before pulling his hat off his head. “It is an honor to meet you, Miss Morris.
Bailey
,” he shouted to one of his men, barely pausing to take a breath. “Sound the horn, man! We have found
her
.”

Bailey obeyed the command, sounding an alarm on a huge hunting horn. The horse beneath Ben shied. He reached back to be certain that Elin, who was demurely riding sidesaddle, stayed on. She had her hands around his waist and tightened her hold.

Dear God, he never wanted her to let go.

His brother had mounted a major endeavor to find Elin. The search party seemed to stretch out forever.

“What of me?” the searcher Ben had first approached said to Talbert. “Fifty quid to the first man who discovers something, that is what you’ve said. I’ve earned the fifty quid. It’s
mine
.”

“Actually,” Talbert started, ready to argue the point with him, “Lord Benedict found her.”

“Pay him the fifty,” Ben said. “Where is my brother?”

“Over yonder,” a distracted Talbert answered.

“I’ll find him.” Ben kicked the horse forward.

“Wait,” Talbert said, running along side them as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him. “I want to be there when His Grace first sees his bride. We’ve been worried for your safety, Miss Morris,” he said between huffs and puffs. “Very concerned when we saw the bodies at the coach.”

But before Talbert could say more, a snowy white horse with a flowing mane and tail came cantering through the woods.

Gavin has arrived.

Ben frowned. He wondered if his brother had purchased the horse so he could look particularly ducal.

That was an unkind thought. An unwarranted one. Still, Ben could not repress it.

Worse, his brother did cut a remarkable figure on the horse in his gray greatcoat and a wide-brimmed hat worn low over his eyes.

Gavin was one of those men who had been endowed by his Maker with every advantage. He’d been born the first of twins to a wealthy title and gifted with high intelligence, strong morals, and the face and form to make women fall at his feet panting. What had some love-struck woman said of him once? “That he had pierced her heart with his ice blue gaze?”

What rot.

Ben wanted to turn around the nag he rode and charge away as fast as he could with Elin.

However, that would not be right. Out of love, he tried to force the issue once. Now, out of love, he would trust Elin when she said she’d chosen him.

Him!
The one dependent upon his brother for an income. The one who had merely average intelligence although he’d put his morals up against his brother’s—with some caveats, of course. Him—a man with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth like a thousand others.

But his heart was
hers
.

Gavin spied them and slowed his horse to a walk, staring as if he wasn’t certain he faced his brother.

Well, in truth, Ben did look rough. His hair was much longer than when Gavin complained about it last, and he had almost four days’ growth of beard.

Harsh words had passed between them a year ago. Ben regretted nothing. He’d wager Gavin would not recall anything he said as well. Ben wondered how Gavin would take the news Elin intended to tell him.

“Brother,” Gavin said, acknowledging Ben first.

“Your Grace.”

Gavin swung his “piercing gaze” to Elin, seemingly taking in everything from the wildness of her hair to her rumpled, travel-worn clothing. “Miss Morris, we are overjoyed to find you safe.”

“As am I, Your Grace,” Elin answered. Her arm around Ben’s waist tightened as she spoke, as if to reassure him of her intentions.

He wasn’t reassured. She was in an untenable position. He now realized that promises made beyond the manners and expectations of society were easy. Living them would be difficult.

“Is my father here?” she asked.

A cloud seemed to cross over Gavin’s perfect features. “He is not. I’m—” he started, then stopped, as if he thought better of it. “I’m representing him as well.”

But Elin had heard the hesitation. “What is the matter? What is wrong?”

Gavin frowned as if he regretted having alarmed her. “He is waiting for you in London.”

“But why is he not here?”

“And how did you hear about the coach attack?” Ben asked, deciding silence would not serve his purpose. Besides, he wanted answers about the murder for hire. Someone had gone to great lengths to do Elin in.

“Word reached me the day before yesterday,” Gavin said, answering Ben first, which meant he was too politic to address Elin’s concerns. “Someone had discovered the coach belonged to Fyclan, and riders had been dispatched. You are lucky to be alive, Miss Morris.”

“Yes,” Elin agreed, her voice quiet.

“Have you seen the coach?” Ben asked. “Is there any evidence of who could be behind this?”

“I had the coach hauled to London. We did come upon a group of scoundrels at an inn several miles from here,” the duke answered. “They told a story of a band of men whom they claimed were the murderers. They said they killed one of them. I’m having them held in custody until we can verify their story.”

“Probably hanging by the thumbs until you approve,” Ben couldn’t help but mutter, and for that he earned another, well-deserved glare from his brother.

It was Elin who sensibly intervened. “They are Lord Benedict’s friends, and they did help us escape.”

“What were you doing in a rathole like that tavern?” Gavin asked Ben.

“With the ‘scoundrels?’ Playing cards. What else does one do in a rathole?”

“And you have been with Elin all this time?”

This question surprised Ben.

Gavin’s welcome had definitely been a bit chilly, which Ben expected and had earned considering the nature of their parting. But there was an edge to his words as well. He was not pleased Ben had spent so much time with his betrothed.

His brother might be a duke, but he was no fool.

Elin chimed in. “I wouldn’t have survived without Lord Benedict. Your Grace, this has been a terrible ordeal. I was fortunate I was not with the coach when those men attacked. But I saw them murder my family’s servants. They made it very clear they had come for me. I escaped, but they attempted to hunt me down. Lord Benedict and his friends saved my life. Big Roger killed one of them and Hooknose and Nate drew them away from us. Lord Ben killed the last two of them. It was terrifying.”

“You shot one,” Ben said, wanting to give Elin credit.

“And I pray never to shoot another person again,” she answered.

A muscle worked in Gavin’s jaw. Ben imagined that Gavin had thought that he would be Elin’s savior, and he wasn’t. He could almost feel a bit sorry for his brother. Gavin had so much . . . but Ben had Elin, and that made him the richer of the two of the brothers.

Gavin seemed to take hold of himself. “What am I thinking? We need to take care of Miss Morris. The road is about an hour’s ride yonder. My personal coach is waiting. Miss Morris, I wasn’t certain what your favorite foods were, but I had a hamper prepared with a little of everything.”

Well
played, brother.
Ben could almost hear Elin licking her lips.

And there was a smile in her voice as she said, “I’m certain that after a diet of hare and dried apples, whatever has been prepared will be excellent.”

Gavin smiled, pleased. “Let’s find you a decent mount.”

“Here,” a man said. Ben had not noted his approach but he swung easily down from the saddle of a pretty bay. “Cousin Elin, ride my horse.”

“Robbie,” she said in greeting. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m relieved to find you well.”

Gavin had dismounted with ducal grace, something Ben couldn’t do easily with Elin behind him. He could have lowered her to the ground but, in truth, he didn’t want her off his horse at all.

So, it was Gavin who escorted her over to her cousin’s bay. She said something to Robbie that Ben couldn’t hear. He kicked his nag forward in time to catch him saying they would talk about her father at a more opportune time.

Elin looked back at Ben with a worried glance. She was not pleased to be put off.

Gavin helped her mount, letting his gloved hand linger at her waist. Ben wanted to jump off his horse, jerk Gavin’s hand off of Elin, and maybe land a facer right on his perfect nose. But he wouldn’t. Such rash behavior was beneath his dignity, for now.

Fortunately, Elin kicked the horse forward so that Gavin’s hand slipped away from her. “What shall you ride, cousin?” she asked.

“I’ll take your place behind Lord Benedict,” Robbie said easily.

Ben was really not happy with that arrangement, especially when Elin went trotting off alongside Gavin’s mighty steed. However, Ben was trying not to appear churlish. Elin would not approve.

However, he was tempted to toss Robbie Morris to the ground when the man, after stepping on a log to climb on the back of Ben’s horse, gave him a look of disdain, and said, “Obviously, you’ve been out here in the rough for some time, my lord.” He rubbed his own cheek to indicate he spoke of Ben’s beard and overall disreputable appearance.

Ben kicked his horse into a canter, almost, but not quite, toppling Robbie Morris off his seat.

“I’m not understanding what you mean by killers?” Gavin was saying as Ben brought his horse up alongside theirs. “The attack wasn’t a robbery?”

“No, they wanted to murder me,” she answered.

“Elin, tell him your story,” Ben commanded quietly. “Start at the beginning.”

And so she did. Ben listened carefully. Each time she told the story, he heard something different.

Gavin asked questions and so did her cousin. She answered as best she could.

Ben even let her tell them about the battle with Darby and his henchman, including how he’d protected the bodies since they couldn’t be buried. Elin was generous with her praise of Ben.

“Do you remember where the bodies are?” the duke asked.

“Yes,” Ben answered.

“Good,” his brother said. He called over to a compact man riding a small chestnut. “Perkins, come here.”

“Yes, Your Grace?” Ben had never met Perkins before. He was not a servant.

But he was also not the sort who would stand out in anyone’s mind. He had brown hair and brown eyes and the most average of features.

“Perkins, this is my betrothed, Miss Morris.”

“It is my pleasure, Miss Morris.” Even Perkins’s voice didn’t command notice.

“This is my brother, Lord Ben. I want you to take some men and follow him to where he left the bodies of two men he says were trying to do Miss Morris harm.”

“What do you want done with the bodies, Your Grace?”

“Whatever Lord Ben decides,” Gavin said easily, and his eyes met Ben.

He might not know everything that had happened between Ben and Elin in the woods, but he was determined to remove Ben from being close to her. It was there in his eyes and set of his chin.

In that moment, he reminded Ben of no one more than their father, a man who prided himself in always gaining his way.

As for Elin, she smiled at him, her face pale. Ben knew her mind was on her father. She proved him right when she said to her cousin, “If you are here, who is with my father?”

“Theresa is with him,” he answered, swinging his leg around and sliding off the horse.

“Theresa?” Ben questioned.

“My wife. In fact, her personal maid is waiting in His Grace’s coach. We don’t want it to be said that my cousin was not properly chaperoned.”

“Absolutely,” Baynton agreed.

“Pity those lads are dead,” Robbie said. “I’d like to hear what they have to say. You didn’t manage to learn why they were on such a murderous rage, did you?”

“No.” Ben knew he was being terse but he was in that kind of mood. He was not pleased to be sent away like an errand boy even though at another time he would believe returning to those bodies was the wisest course of action. After all, he could have missed something.

“Miss Morris and I will see you in London,” the duke said decisively.

Elin held up a hand. “Wait.”

Ben’s spirit lifted. Was she going to announce to Gavin now that her feelings had changed? Would she dare to cry off publicly?

“Before you go, do you need something to eat, Ben?” she asked.

In Greek times, the young Icarus dared to fly too close to the sun and plunged to his death.

Masking his disappointment that Elin was more preoccupied with fears for her father than this love they professed to each other, Ben felt very much akin to the foolish Icarus.

Then again, what did he expect her to do? Did he doubt her profession of love?

No. And whether he liked it or not, he knew he must trust Elin to see her way out of her entanglement with Gavin one way or the other.

In the meantime, he needed to find out who and why someone had hired killers to murder her.

“I’m fine, Miss Morris. I’m not hungry.” Ben looked to his brother. “See that my friends are released, and you may want to give them a reward. After all, Miss Morris is alive because of them. Let’s go, Perkins.”