hardly tell him the real reason she had no intention of going to Edinburgh.
She began to stand and he grabbed her shoulder.
“Ow!” Her yelp was more from surprise than pain.
Benna tried to jerk away, but he held her fast with one hand. For a man who did little other than gamble, drink, and fuck, he was remarkably strong.
“You listen to me, you arrogant ingrate; I’m the one who earns the money that feeds you, houses you, and keeps you in those bloody books you so enjoy reading. That means I’m the one who says where we go and when. Understood?”
Benna clamped her mouth shut and stared at him; it drove him mad when she refused to argue.
His nostrils flared and he shoved her hard enough that she fell back hard on her tailbone. “Fine, you scrawny, ungrateful pillock,” he said, eying her in an odiously snubbing way that normally reduced people to stammering dunces. “I don’t need you, anyway. All you do is scowl at me like a rejected, jealous mooncalf whenever I bring home any woman better looking than you.”
Benna ignored his cruel jab, her heart pounding in her ears. “Is this—are you giving me the sack, Geoff?” she asked, annoyed by the warble in her voice.
He scoffed. “Not this time—darling, although I should. But no, that would only inconvenience me. You’ll pack our things and remove yourself to Newcastle after you’ve made arrangements for my trip. You can wait for me there at the Royal York.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I shall take those extra nights out of your wages.”
Benna didn’t care. He only ever paid for a servant’s room for her when they stayed at hotels; while that wasn’t exactly cheap at the Royal York, avoiding Scotland was worth the expense.
“I shall only be a week in Edinburgh.” He sneered. “You’re not so bloody important that I can’t survive without you—you’d better remember that.”
“Thank you. I’m grateful,” she said, meaning it. And then got to her feet.
He leveled a finger at her. “The next time you defy me you will find yourself standing on the side of the road while I wave goodbye.”
Newcastle
Six Days Later
Benna smiled at the handsome lad who delivered the steaming mug and plate of biscuits to her table. “Thank you.”
She had discovered Dirty Nelly’s Coffeehouse her second day in Newcastle and had gone there for coffee and biscuits every day since.
She’d found it while searching for a newspaper office after a servant at the last house party they’d attended had told her that she might, for a fee, look at older issues of the paper.
Now that Benna had the leisure to do so, she’d decided to go back to the date of her departure from Scotland and see if there was anything more in the Newcastle paper about her, Michael, or anything else related to Wake House.
Even though Newcastle was a good day’s ride from her old home, it was still the closest city of any size, and the Dukes of Wake had once been well-known figures in the northern metropolis.
In fact, her father had purchased a life membership in the races held at the Newcastle Town Moor and used to attend every year. He took David with him, but not Benna. For once, her father had steadfastly rejected all Benna’s—loud and emotional—entreaties.
“It is not the sort of place I wish to bring my daughter,” the duke had said when she’d resorted to using tears—usually an effective last resort—to accompany him and David. His expression had been so uncharacteristically forbidding that Benna had known there was no chance that he’d capitulate.
Tom, on the other hand—after enduring intense nagging and whining—had risked the wrath of his master and sneaked her down south one magical day in September.
Benna pushed aside the fond memory and took a sip of the strong brew the old coffeehouse was famous for. She had passed an exceedingly pleasurable—if not especially productive—six days by herself.
She’d found nothing of any note in the back issues of the Newcastle paper—no mention at all of either Michael or the elusive Duchess of Wake.
Benna still had no idea whether that was a good or bad thing. What was Michael up to?
She had also spent some of her hard-earned money to speak to a solicitor about wills, trusts, guardianship, and other legal matters.
It had been a singularly unhelpful, and expensive, hour. Without the trust document the man could tell her very little that was of any use. Not only that, but he’d become increasingly suspicious even with