A Christmas Match (Landon House #4) - Rose Pearson Page 0,42

perhaps it had been very foolish indeed to go into society when he was not quite prepared for such a thing. What if he had seen Lady Norwich? What if she had been present at the little soiree? Then what would he have done?

Closing his eyes, Benedict let out another groan and reached to ring the bell, choosing to spend the remainder of the day in much the same way as he had the morning. It was, no doubt, already luncheon and Benedict had no desire whatsoever to go anywhere other than perhaps his study for a short time. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recalled that he had accepted an invitation to a ball or some such thing that evening, but given that it would be busy with guests, Benedict did not think that anyone would miss him should he not attend.

“My Lord?”

Benedict opened his eyes and looked into the face of the footman who now stood just inside the door. It took a few minutes for the man’s face to come into focus, and Benedict, when he spoke, felt as though his throat was filled with pieces of sharp stone which grated horribly with every word.

“Have coffee sent up,” he said, wanting nothing other than to lie back down again. “At once.”

The footman inclined his head.

“Yes, my Lord. And, if I might be so bold as to ask, when do you think you will be rising?”

Benedict frowned.

“I do not know,” he said, rigidly. “Now, the coffee.”

Again, the footman hesitated and Benedict felt a sharp edge of anger begin to stab at his heart. He was about to speak out again, to demand that the fellow do as was asked of him, else be in fear for his position at Benedict’s home, only for the footman to speak again.

“It is only that Lord Ramsbury is waiting to have an audience with you, my Lord,” he said, sending Benedict’s anger spiraling away. “He insisted that we did not wake you but has chosen to remain here waiting.”

The pain in Benedict’s head seemed to redouble as he looked back at the footman, who was now shifting from foot to foot, evidently aware that he had upset Benedict a little by such an explanation.

“And how long has he been waiting?” Benedict found himself asking, even though he wanted nothing more than to tell the footman to order Ramsbury from the house. It was only knowledge of Ramsbury’s determination that kept him from saying so, for his friend would not be deterred by a simple request from Benedict. “And what time is it?”

“It is gone three in the afternoon, my Lord,” the footman replied, making Benedict start with surprise. “Lord Ramsbury has been here some two hours, I believe.”

A sense of shame began to creep over Benedict as he groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He did not speak for some moments but, eventually, let out a long sigh.

“Have the coffee brought still, but send for my valet,” he bit out, wishing that Ramsbury had chosen to spend the afternoon elsewhere. “I will be down momentarily. And make certain that Lord Ramsbury has all that he requires until I arrive.”

The footman nodded, a flash of relief covering his expression for a moment before, after a final enquiry as to whether there was anything else that Benedict needed, he exited the room and left Benedict alone.

Benedict sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead, wishing that the pain would dissipate just a little. He had been thinking that a quiet afternoon was all that he needed, all that he wanted, only for it now to be stolen from him. With another pained sigh, he swung himself out of bed and forced himself to the chair by the fireplace, glad that the maids had made certain to have his room warm and ready for him when the time came for him to rise. The wood crackled as it burned and Benedict looked glumly into the flames, finding himself rather filled with despondency at the thought of having to go and speak to Ramsbury.

“Most likely he will berate me for last evening,” Benedict muttered to himself, suddenly recalling just how much he had drunk and having a vague memory of speaking with Lord and Lady Ramsbury.

He had not joined the other guests when they had gone to sing carols together, but had decisively made his way from the townhouse, having chosen to take his leave rather than remain and join in with such