The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,107

it.”

***

Jago had no memory of the ride back from Oakland Park.

In fact, the last thing he recalled was taking his leave of Elinor and when he looked up, Pike was holding Asclepius’s bridle, waiting for him to dismount.

Because it was already five o’clock, he hesitated to have this particular conversation with Benna right now.

But the thought of waiting through what was likely to be an interminable night until he could get her alone tomorrow was simply not to be borne.

“Have you seen Mr. Piddock?” he asked Nance as he handed his hat and gloves to the footman while the old butler relieved him of his coat.

“He just summoned two footmen to the east wing, my lord.”

Jago pulled a face as he tried to fix his wrecked hair in the looking glass; he looked like a bloody rooster. “More crates or trunks?” he guessed, shoving back the stupid lock of hair that insisted on flopping onto his forehead.

“That is what Charles and James brought back to the library, sir.”

Jago scowled; he was just making his already messy hair messier. “Ah, to hell with it,” he muttered, drawing a surprised look from Nance.

“I need a haircut,” he explained, his face heating at the blatant untruth.

Nance’s rheumy eyes flickered over Jago’s hair, which Toomey had just cut two days before. “Yes, my lord.”

Lord, he was acting like a bloody idiot at his first assembly. Benna didn’t give a rap about his hair.

Jago felt his butler’s gaze burning into his back as he strode with immoderate haste toward the decrepit east wing of the house.

As always, walking through the dank, musty-smelling corridors made him even more aware of the pressures of the earldom.

And yet, in a few moments, he was going to do something that would irrevocably ensure that he would never be able to restore these grand old rooms to their former glory.

Indeed, by the time he lost the outlying farms he’d be lucky if he could keep a roof over the entire structure.

That was usually an argument that motivated him to do what needed to be done. But, today, he had little room in his mind for anything other than Benna.

He immediately saw which room she was working in because it was the only one with the door open.

Jago paused for a moment in the doorway.

Her back was to him and she was kneeling in front of yet another infernal trunk.

Her head was bowed and she was rummaging through it.

At the sight of her slender, vulnerable nape an unexpected wave of tenderness slammed into him so violently that, for a moment, it was if somebody had knocked the wind from his chest.

He clutched at the doorframe, gazing at the ill-fitting coat stretched across her shoulders as if it were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Elinor was right; there was no question of giving her up. Ever. How had he been so blind?

He knocked softly on the doorframe. “Benna?”

She gave a startled yelp and spun around on her knees, clutching her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hastening toward her. “I didn’t want to give you a fright.” He dropped to his haunches beside her and took her hand.

As he watched, her expression went from alarmed to displeased to the blank, obedient stare of a well-trained servant.

She tried to pull away her hand, but Jago held it firm. “I am sorry.”

She did him the courtesy of not asking him what he meant. Neither did her expression soften one iota. The haughty look she gave him would have done a duchess proud.

“I’ve been acting like a confused boy rather than a man of thirty-seven. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I do have some things I must say.”

The ice showed no sign of melting. “Here?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

She hesitated and then nodded.

Jago stood, drawing her up with him. He gestured to a spindly settee, hoping it would hold their combined weight.

She glanced at the door, which was still open. “Should I—”

“I will close it.”

When he returned, she was seated all the way at one end of the small sofa.

Jago sat so that there was distance between them, which is clearly what she wanted.

“I’d like to explain why I’ve, er—”

“Been avoiding me?” she supplied.

He gave a pained smile. “Yes. I have been avoiding you. That evening—and morning—was the most enjoyable that I can remember.” He saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but her features did not relax.

“I have already thought of it many times since and daresay I will continue to