Benedict's Challenge - Carole Mortimer Page 0,43

her arms to drop to her sides. “It will give Lord Gordon the opportunity to approach me.”

Benedict’s jaw tightened. “I am still not happy about this. If anything should go wrong—”

“I have every confidence you will not allow that to happen,” she assured, giving a loud and false laugh as she stepped determinedly away from him, as if he had just said something highly amusing. “You—”

“Can’t say as I’ve ever seen you here before, Winter,” Lord Gordon spoke sharply. “I’ve always heard it said you preferred to give the ladies your…attentions behind the scenes rather than publicly,” he added scathingly.

Chloe flinched at his implication, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth to stop herself from speaking as she slowly watched Benedict turn, his gaze glacial as it swept over the older man.

“Had you indeed?” The coldness of Benedict’s tone did not invite further comment on the subject.

“Yes.” Lord Gordon did not back down in the slightest, his expression challenging.

Neither did Benedict. “My interests here have previously only been of a medical nature. But Miss Brown is so delectable that for once, I found myself unable to resist.”

“Miss Brown, is it?” the older man taunted with a contemptuous sweep of his gaze over Chloe’s gaudily clad body and the rouge and pigment upon her lips.

“My, my, are you telling me there is a lady at Club Venus whom you have not bedded?” Benedict scorned. “She looks very like the maid that a week ago you claimed did not work in your household, don’t you agree?”

Lord Gordon narrowed his gaze on him. “As that maid does not exist, I would not know what she looked like.” He reached out to take a painful grasp of Chloe’s arm. “If you will excuse us, Winter.” He didn’t so much as glance at him. “You have had your time with this—Miss Brown.”

Chloe gave Benedict a glance that pleaded for not only his silence but also his restraint. She breathed a sigh of relief when, hands clenched at his sides, he heeded it. The nerve pulsing in his jaw and the vein throbbing at his temple said he found it far from easy to stand and watch as Lord Gordon dragged her along behind him to the hallway where the private rooms were situated.

“All will be well, old friend.”

Benedict’s gaze remained fixed on Chloe’s departing figure as Julius Soames stepped up to stand beside him. “There is a danger murder might be committed before this night is over, with Gordon as the victim.”

Julius placed a placating hand on his arm for several seconds. “James is with the solicitor inside the wall space, which will allow them to locate whichever room Gordon takes your Chloe to, and then they can listen in. As soon as Gordon has incriminated himself, we will see to having him arrested.”

“What if he does not do that until after he has hurt Chloe?” Benedict muttered bleakly. “And she is not my Chloe.”

“Oh, I believe she is, as you are hers,” Julius drawled. “Both of you just need to be patient for a few more minutes and then, hopefully, all this will be over.”

He scowled darkly. “It is the ‘hopefully’ part of that statement which concerns me the most.”

“It will be over, Benedict,” Julius repeated firmly. “And in the manner we wish it to be. In the meantime—”

“In the meantime, I intend to join the solicitor and James and listen in on the conversation.” Benedict strode off without giving his friend a second glance.

Chloe would be lying if she claimed not to be concerned by the anger emanating from Lord Gordon, along with the violence that might result from that anger. Especially once they were alone.

But she also had confidence in Benedict and his friends to step in and save her if it became necessary. As it might very well do if the vicious glitter in Lord Gordon’s eyes was any indication once they were alone in one of the private rooms.

Except they were not really alone. Chloe had been shown the walk space behind the wall, knew that there were peepholes too so that anyone in the space could look in as well as hear the conversation within the room. The space had originally been incorporated into the structure of the building during a much earlier century than this one, but it now served the purpose of protecting the women who chose to work here.

“Lord Winter, hm?” Lord Gordon taunted.

“Is that his name?” she mused. “He did not reveal it during