Benedict's Challenge - Carole Mortimer Page 0,19

Benedict from feeling slightly put out by the two of them having decided to take matters into their own hands and arranged the situation so that they avoided spending time in his company.

Chapter Seven

“Who is the young man I have seen working in the stables these past few days?”

Benedict strolled across the room to where Beatrix stood looking out one of the windows in her sitting room.

She turned to him. “I do not remember seeing him here before.”

Because Jimmy had not been on the estate until Benedict brought him with him from London three days ago. As for Beatrix having observed the other man working in the stables… In the past two days, Jimmy had ignored all advice and had set about helping the grooms with some of the lighter work. He had at least kept the bandages strapped about his forearms as added support.

Benedict’s one attempt yesterday to tell the other man how reckless that behavior was had resulted in several angry words being exchanged between the two of them, and they’d had no conversation at all since then.

Chloe had also continued to keep to her bedchamber, and her meals were all delivered to her there.

It had allowed Benedict to continue to spend time with Beatrix, but he was unhappy with the circumstances that allowed him to do so.

“He came with me from London,” Benedict answered Beatrix.

She arched dark brows. “You brought a stable hand with you all the way from London when there are surely many local lads whose family would welcome the money from their employment here?”

He grimaced. “Jimmy is not a stable hand but one of my patients. I brought him because he is not yet healed from injuries he received. But now that he is here, he insists upon working in order to earn his board and lodgings.”

Beatrix turned back to once again look down toward the stables. “He seems vaguely familiar.”

Benedict’s interest sharpened. “He does?”

“Mm.” She nodded. “You said his name was Jimmy?”

“Jimmy Brown. But I have a feeling his first name is more likely to be James.” He was more convinced of that than ever. “And the Brown part is, in all probability, a complete fabrication.”

Beatrix chewed on her bottom lip. “As you know I had only a few weeks of a Season before…circumstances took that away from me. But this man James,” she continued firmly. “He has the look of an older gentleman I met during that time.”

“Which gentleman?”

“Let me think.” She frowned in concentration. “We were introduced.” Her brow cleared. “Ah, I believe his name was Adrian Metcalf, or something similar.”

Benedict tried to think if he knew anyone by that name. “Can you possibly mean Adrian Metford, the Earl of Ipswich?”

Beatrix’s expression brightened. “That’s the one!” She sobered. “I remember him because he was so much older than me but nevertheless, his hands wandered as we danced together.”

“You should have told me.” Benedict felt saddened that Beatrix eschewed any social interaction for many years, but he did not appreciate learning all these years after her last foray into that company that Ipswich had dared to touch her inappropriately.

She chuckled. “I might have been very young, but I still managed to put him in his place, never fear.”

Benedict could believe that. Beatrix might be slight of build, but she had always had a sharp tongue.

But was it possible Jimmy was somehow related to Ipswich? Jimmy was much younger, of course, Ipswich possibly aged in his fifties to Jimmy’s midtwenties, but…

Benedict studied Jimmy through new eyes. Dark and curly hair in need of a cut. Classical features, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a strong jaw. Jimmy was no longer wearing the finer clothes Benedict had given him, but now wore heavy corduroy trousers and a tweed jacket, along with a dark work shirt. But despite that, there was still that air of nobility about him. And yes, also a definite resemblance to Ipswich, now Beatrix had mentioned it.

From what Benedict recalled, Adrian Metford had inherited the title of earl from his brother ten years ago. They had both sat in the House for that same amount of time, but Benedict had never particularly liked him. The man was too brash and opinionated against those less wealthy and privileged than himself, and he made no effort to hide his disapproval of Benedict’s medical care of the poor. Lazy good for nothings was how the older man had once described those people who ended up incarcerated in the poorhouse or worse, with little or no hope