Benedict's Challenge - Carole Mortimer Page 0,17

hallway before moving. He lifted Chloe and carefully placed her back on the bed so as to cause her the least discomfort, before rising to his feet.

He kept his gaze averted, uncertain of his own control if he should look at Chloe’s half-clothed body again. “Will you answer one question for me, and then we shall deal with the rest at a more convenient time?”

Chloe ceased straightening her clothing to gaze up at him warily. “What question?”

“What is your surname?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “Do I really have to tell you that?”

“You do, yes.” Benedict had to know, was desperate to know. Not only that Chloe was not in any way already committed to another man, but also, because of her age, if she could possibly be the missing niece his friend the Duke of Blackborne now sought in France.

She breathed agitatedly for several long seconds. “Gordon,” she bit out abruptly. “My surname is Gordon,” she choked emotionally.

Benedict turned to stare at her in shock. “You denied being Lord Gordon’s wife or his daughter.”

“Because I am not.” Her face paled even at the suggestion of it. “He was the older half brother of my father, but I had never met him before my parents’ funeral two years ago and afterward, when he became my guardian.” She swallowed before adding dully, “I wish I still did not know of his existence or had ever set eyes on him.”

Benedict knew there was so much more to be added to that statement. But it would have to wait; otherwise, the impatient Jimmy might decide to come upstairs looking for them again.

But her answer did at least reassure him that Chloe was not Blackborne’s missing niece. Gabriel’s sister, Elizabeth, had died in childbirth, and the father of her child had been incarcerated in a French asylum for these past nineteen years. That did not at all tally with Chloe’s parents having died two years ago.

“The wounds on your bottom and legs are healing nicely and no longer in need of a dressing,” Benedict told her evenly. “I will leave this jar of salve.” He held it up before placing it on the dressing table. “That way, you can administer it yourself to the wounds that pain you the most.”

Chloe knew that Jimmy’s interruption meant her and Benedict’s time of intimacy was now over. The coolness of his expression as he looked down the length of his nose at her and his dismissal of her needing further medical attention warned her that intimacy between them was unlikely to occur again.

“Of course,” she accepted heavily.

He nodded tersely. “I will now go downstairs and wait with Jimmy for you to join us for dinner.”

Chloe’s lashes lowered so that Benedict should not see the hurt in her eyes caused by his coldness and distance. “I will be down shortly.”

“See that you are,” he bit out. “One of the ways to speed up your recovery is to ensure you eat a healthy diet.”

Chloe believed that Benedict must now, with his knowledge of who and what she was to Lord Gordon, be very anxious for her to heal so that he could return her to her guardian. He had not said as much, of course, but they both knew he had no right to keep her here now that he knew she had a legal guardian who might decide to accuse him of kidnapping his ward.

Chloe knew Lord Gordon well enough to realize exactly what a vindictive man he was.

“A trouble shared is a trouble halved?”

Benedict roused himself to look up from where he had been staring broodingly into the brandy he swirled about his glass. Now that dinner was over Benedict and Jimmy were seated in wingback armchairs either side of the warm fire in his study.

Dinner, despite the deliciousness of the food, had been a quiet and tense affair. There had been little conversation beyond “Could you please pass the salt” and “Could I please have the mustard after you.” Both remarks had been made by Jimmy, the first acknowledged and performed by Chloe with a smile, the second by Benedict.

Chloe had excused herself and hurried from the room as soon as they had finished dessert, after which the two gentlemen had retired to Benedict’s study to enjoy a glass of brandy.

Except Benedict had then fallen into this brooding silence. “It is not my problem to share,” he finally answered Jimmy.

The younger man glanced up toward the ceiling. “Miss Chloe?”

“Yes.”

“She seems like a very sweet and polite