Scales and Sensibility by Stephanie Burgis

Chapter 23

“They know,” Elinor said.

Two hours after their arrival at the ruins, the party had set off back for home. This time, she and Benedict had struck off together from the beginning, without needing to exchange a word in advance. As soon as they were safely out of hearing distance of the others, she slowed Buttercup and nudged her closer to Benedict’s mount for ease of conversation. “They both know, I mean. Mr. Armitage and his sister.”

“Of course they know,” said Benedict. “You heard them—if I ‘break their trust,’ they’ll tell everyone what my father did…and exactly how close I am to losing my estate.”

“‘Breaking their trust’…” Elinor’s hands clenched around the reins; she had to force herself to loosen them and soothe her horse. “I suppose that means proposing to Penelope.”

“What else? He clearly wants to marry her himself…and now he’s made it impossible for me to even try.”

“Damn it!” Elinor heard the words escape her mouth with a feeling of shock. She never, ever swore out loud. Rose swore, when she was in a passion; even Harry swore occasionally, when a particularly tricky intellectual problem was resisting solutions for too long. But Elinor only ever swore inside her head, where no one else could hear her.

Until now.

“How could they have found out?” she demanded. “You said you’d kept it secret. Did your father tell anybody?”

“When my father realized what he’d done…” Benedict’s lips tightened; he shook his head, releasing his breath in a whoosh. “No. He never told anyone but me. Even my brothers didn’t know until I told them, and they certainly wouldn’t have spread the word. They know exactly what it will mean to us if the news reaches our creditors before I can find a way to mend our fortunes.”

“You’ll lose the estate,” Elinor said flatly.

And with the estate…

She had fought so hard to keep her own family together, those long six months after their parents had died. How dare the Armitages rip Benedict’s family apart now, just when he had a real chance to save them?

“There has to be a way around this,” she said. “Perhaps if you tell Penelope before he can…” Her words trailed off as she imagined the scene.

Benedict laughed. “Oh, yes, I can certainly imagine how that would go. I don’t see Miss Hathergill throwing the world away for love, do you?”

“Well…” Elinor bit her lip.

If only she was the real Mrs. De Lacey. If only…

Benedict shook his head. “If you want to know the truth…” He drew his horse to a halt as they reached the top of a low hill. The green landscape spread out before them, tidy fields covered by cows and sheep and sliced by streams and hedges. A rook cawed as it flew overhead, and Sir Jessamyn nestled more tightly into his harness.

“It feels like a relief,” said Benedict.

“I beg your pardon?” Elinor stared at him. “But—”

He gazed at the fields spread out before them, his brows drawn into a frown. “I wasn’t lying, earlier,” he said. “I don’t like pretense. I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not. And you were right, the very first day we arrived. It was a terrible thing to think of doing to Miss Hathergill. You know as well as I do that, no matter how hard I might try, she would be miserable buried on a country estate.”

Elinor said, “With Penelope’s dowry, she might be able to visit London even after your estate was saved.”

“Perhaps,” said Benedict. “But that isn’t exactly the glorious lifestyle she’s been dreaming of, is it?” He shrugged and turned to her with a rueful half-smile. “From halfway across the country, it was all too easy to ignore the feelings of a future-fiancée. But I can’t imagine myself making Miss Hathergill happy as a husband. And…” He took a breath. “Now the Armitages have done me a favour, in a way, though I can’t quite bring myself to thank them for it.”

“A favour!” Elinor let out a disbelieving huff of air. “They—”

His smile twisted. “They’ve made it impossible for Miss Hathergill to make me utterly miserable as my wife. If it weren’t for my brothers and my niece, I think I might even be grateful to them for it.”

Elinor was silent. Her emotions were too tangled to allow her any speech.

Benedict looked down at the view before them. “I wish I could show you Kennington Park,” he said. “I think you’d like it. You’d like to ride across it, anyway. There’s a waterfall built into the rocks, only a quarter mile from the house. My brothers and I had a secret fort there, when I was younger. And the woods…”

“You love it,” Elinor said.

“I do. I would have done anything to save it, and my family. But I don’t have that choice anymore.”

“But you do!” Elinor leaned forward. “You must. There has to be a way, if we think hard enough!”

He didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were still fixed on the fields before them. “I only hope that whoever buys the estate will take care of it. The workers—”

“Stop!” Deeply daring, Elinor reached out to brush her fingers against the thick cloth of his blue coat sleeve, to drag his attention back to her. “You cannot give up so easily. We won’t give up. And…oh!” She gasped and grabbed his sleeve outright as she suddenly remembered. “Penelope is absolutely not going to accept Mr. Armitage until you propose to her yourself!”

“I beg your pardon?” Frowning, he turned back to her. “I don’t think I can have heard you—”

“She told me,” said Elinor. “She’s determined to be betrothed by the night of her début, but she won’t accept either of you until both have proposed. She thinks anything less would be beneath her dignity.”

He stared at her. “Good God. You really are serious, aren’t you?” At her nod, he began to laugh helplessly. “Good God,” he repeated. “Poor Armitage. Little did he know he was ruining his own chances by scuppering mine. If he’d only realized…”

“The point is,” said Elinor, “you still have a chance. And I would wager anything that the Armitages have just as much to hide as you do. Miss Armitage is altogether too fond of ferreting out other people’s disreputable secrets.”

“Oh?” He stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes at her. “What secrets has she discovered about you?”

Elinor felt her cheeks heat. “None at all,” she said…and finally realized that she was still clutching the sleeve of his coat. She released it with a wince, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as pink as she feared. Perhaps the illusion would hide her blush.

“She tried, though, didn’t she?” Benedict reached out to take her hand even as she withdrew it; with a quick movement, she jerked her fingers away just before he could touch them. He frowned harder and leaned closer. “What did she do?”

“Nothing,” said Elinor. His closeness was beginning to make her feel very strange. Her skin was prickling as if with great cold or heat, and her voice sounded odd in her own ears. She cleared her throat and leaned discreetly backward, away from his disconcerting warmth. “She only asked insinuating questions, which I chose not to answer.”

“Hmm.” Benedict’s hazel gaze rested speculatively on her face. “Are you quite sure that’s all?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Elinor finally, belatedly, remembered exactly who she was supposed to be. She straightened, stiffening her back and lifting her chin. “I hope you don’t imagine that I have anything to hide, Mr. Hawkins.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak—then shook his head with a rueful half-smile. “When you look that way,” he said, “I wouldn’t dare. I’ll wager you stared Miss Armitage down like a queen.”

“Your faith overwhelms me,” Elinor said dryly.

“Good.” Benedict settled back in his saddle and nudged his horse forward into an easy canter...but his words floated back to her and stopped her breath. “...Because my faith in you is limitless.”

The sigh of relief that Elinor had been about to expel froze in her throat. From her lap, Sir Jessamyn cocked his head and looked up at her with an all-too-knowing golden gaze.

Elinor stared at Benedict’s back as he rode away from her, down the hill towards Hathergill Hall. His broad shoulders were outlined in his tight blue coat; his final words rang in her ears.

Be Mrs. De Lacey.

She swallowed hard and followed him.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey, but Elinor’s head buzzed with so many contradictory instructions, they nearly deafened her. She had to find out more about the Armitages and what they might be hiding, themselves… She had to speak to Penelope and persuade her that money wasn’t necessary in a suitor—

—Had Benedict really said—?

Don’t think of that now!

…She still had to find a way to expose Lucinda at the ball before Sally could fulfill her own threat to expose her…

She barely noticed the unfamiliar carriage that was pulling up in front of Hathergill Hall as they arrived, nor did the tall, thin man being ushered out of it seize her attention. It was only the look of hard satisfaction upon Sir John’s face as he stood and watched the carriage roll away that finally set belated warning bells ringing.

He looked up as they approached, and his expression eased into a false, jovial smile. “Nice trip, eh? A pretty set of ruins, ain’t they? I’d pull ’em down completely if it was up to me, but the ladies always like such fripperies. Don’t they, Mrs. De Lacey?”

Elinor raised her eyebrows and looked quellingly down her nose at him. As unimaginable as it would have felt only three days ago, it was surprisingly easy from horseback. Height really did give an advantage.

So did her illusion. Mrs. De Lacey couldn’t have cared less about civility.

“Who was the gentleman in the carriage?” she asked.

“Him?” Sir John shrugged, his smile turning fixed. “Oh, just an acquaintance. Here to see m’wife, you know.”

“Oh?” Elinor arched her brows even higher. In the corner of her vision, she could see Benedict watching her with an appreciative quirk of his lips. It made her jittery, and her hands tightened on her reins. Buttercup shifted her feet, and Sir Jessamyn, who had just begun to fall asleep, opened his eyes with a cheep of complaint.

“Your dragon will be wanting to get down, won’t he?” Sir John strode forward with obvious relief. “Here, allow me.” His meaty hands reached for Sir Jessamyn, who recoiled.

“I’ll do it myself,” Elinor said hastily. “Mr. Hawkins, if you wouldn’t mind…” She lifted Sir Jessamyn out of his harness and passed him carefully to Benedict. Their fingertips almost brushed; she let go quickly, and the little dragon settled against Benedict’s chest with a look of alert interest.

She slid down the side of her own mount with inelegant speed, waving off both Sir John and the footman who’d stepped forward to aid her. When she’d brushed down her skirts, she looked up and found Benedict idly stroking Sir Jessamyn’s back while the little dragon preened with satisfaction. She held out her hands…but Sir Jessamyn stayed exactly where he was, half-closing his eyes and leaning his head against Benedict’s chest.

“Well, really!” Elinor stared. “Are you hiding food in your coat, by any chance?”

Benedict laughed. “If only I’d thought of it…but no, it’s only my famous charm holding him here.”

“Hmm,” said Elinor, expressively.

The footman had already retreated, and Sir John moved away, too, waving to the others as they approached. Elinor crossed her arms as she gazed up at her traitorous dragon and tried not to let her mouth twitch. “You’re going to have to come back now, whether you like it or not,” she told him. “I’m the one who feeds you, remember?”

Benedict grinned. “You can leave him a moment, if you like. I think…yes.” He swung his leg over his horse and jumped down with Sir Jessamyn still tucked against his chest. “Here we are. I don’t mind holding him for a while. Let’s just hope history doesn’t repeat itself, eh?”

“I beg your pardon?” He was standing very close now, grinning down at her. Elinor felt her heartbeat speed up and her thoughts scatter. She reached desperately for her fleeing wits.

“The first time I met him,” Benedict said. “Don’t you remember what happened?” He heaved a mock-tragic sigh. “My poor waistcoat…”

Dizzy and tingling, it took Elinor a moment. Then she remembered, and groaned. “That was only because he was frightened! If you hadn’t…”

Wait!

She slammed her mouth shut. Benedict was looking down at her from only half a foot away. She said, “Isn’t that what you told me? You said that the first time you met Miss Tregarth and her dragon…”

“I told you that she’d fallen in the mud,” Benedict said. “I don’t recall telling you what her dragon did next.”

“Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it?” Elinor said. “I mean, we all know how Sir Jessamyn reacts to frightening situations.”

“Do we?” His grin had widened, but it wasn’t a triumphant smirk; instead, it felt oddly intimate. He looked as if they were sharing a private joke. His voice softened. “Last time we spoke about it, you were still denying that he was Sir Jessamyn. Remember?”

“I…” Elinor took a jerky step backward, breathing quickly. She needed air, and space to think. Being close to him was too dangerous. It made her brain stop working.

Before she could say anything, though, either to save herself or to dig herself deeper, he looked past her and breathed a quick warning.

“Careful!”

A rattle of hoofbeats swept up behind her, and the others arrived in a happy rush. Mr. Armitage swung himself down first, and then lifted down a bright-eyed Penelope. She tipped her head back and laughed with pleasure, while Miss Armitage watched with a fond smile and Millie stared in blatant envy.

“Oh, Papa, it was wonderful!” Penelope cried, as Mr. Armitage turned to help his sister.

“I’m glad, puss.” Sir John chucked her under her chin affectionately as he moved past her to assist Millie. Sir John’s next words might have been meant as a whisper, but his voice was trained to boom; Elinor heard the words clearly. “And you’ll be very pleased with what I did while you were out.”

Elinor swung around, all of her confusion dropping away. Every instinct she had was shrieking a warning.

“What did you do while we were away, Sir John?” she asked.

“Oh, well…” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s nothing you’d be interested in, ma’am, only—”

“Did it have to do with your visitor?” she said. “The gentleman who left just as we arrived?”

“Well—”

“Papa!” Penelope breathed. She seized his arm with a glowing face before he could reach Millie’s horse. “It was him, wasn’t it? The physician from London!”

“Physician?” Miss Armitage said. “Is someone ill, sir?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say—”

“You did it.” Elinor shook her head. Shock and horror mingled so strongly that for a moment, her whole body felt numb. “You really did it,” she said to both of them together, her uncle and her cousin, standing side by side. “I can’t believe it. You actually summoned that physician to declare Lady Hathergill mad.”