The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,114

for several years.” She grimaced. “Very callously.”

Jago decided that he didn’t want to know what she meant by callously. He already wanted to kill the man. Thank God he was already dead.

“And then suddenly, about two years ago, he became much nicer. Several months after that he told me that he’d come to … love me

He had to ask. “You felt nothing for him?”

Her brow furrowed. “He saved me that night in Durham, so, at first I admired him and saw him as a savior. But he—” Her cheeks flushed. “Well, exposure to him over time eroded those early feelings. After I rejected him the first time he became far more—” She pursed her lips and then shook her head. “Let’s just say he was charming, kind, and caring, but I wasn’t thoroughly convinced, even though this went on for months. When he asked me again to marry him, I said no. I woke up the following morning to find myself tied up and waiting for a man to come and collect me.”

Jago felt more than a little nauseated. “Good Lord, Benna. No wonder you were furious—and frightened—when I popped up after all but ignoring you for three days and said that I wanted to marry you.”

She squeezed his hand in answer.

“You said that somebody came to take you away. What happened?”

Her jaws flexed. “I got away,” she said flatly.

Jago waited, but she remained silent.

There was a story there, but she clearly did not wish to share it. Well, he could wait until she was ready.

Instead, he asked, “Do you still wish to wait until you are twenty-five to take action? Or would you allow me to help?”

Her eyes widened. “You mean you—that is—well, you would let me decide?”

“Lord, Benna—you’ve been your mistress all this time. I’m hardly going to start telling you how to handle matters when you’ve done an excellent job surviving.”

She looked more than a little dazed by his response. “My plan is not really much of a plan, but then I haven’t had many options.” She met his gaze, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. “Until you.”

Jago gathered her in his arms and she melted against him.

“I’ve wanted somebody to trust for so long, Jago.”

The words were a hoarse whisper and he heard all the pain and fear behind them.

He squeezed her tighter. “I love and adore you, Benna. I will do whatever you want, however you want to do it. But you need to tell me.” He released her just enough to look down at her. “If it was a broken arm you had, I’d know exactly how to help. But I’m afraid your lover is something of a dunce when it comes to legal matters. I am guardian to Catherine and Mariah—along with their mother—but I believe these things can be set up in a variety of ways.” He hesitated, and then said, “If I might be permitted to advise you?”

She nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“I think you should talk to Stephen Worth. When it comes to legal matters he is the most knowledgeable man I’ve ever met. He is also a lawyer. You know him a little—do you think you could trust him?”

“I like him,” she said simply.

And then two tears leaked from her magnificent eyes.

“Oh, darling—why are you crying?” he asked, kissing away her tears.

“I don’t know why I’m such a watering pot—I never cry. I’m just so … relieved that I’m no longer alone.”

He rubbed her back. “Everything will be fine, Benna. I promise you.”

Jago hoped to God that he was right.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Cornwall

1817

Present Day

“You could be a kind young gentleman and ask one of them to dance,” Jago teased.

“I’m not sure that would be a kindness, my lord.” Benna turned to find the earl grinning appreciatively at her.

They were standing together, not far from the refreshment table, watching the crowded dancefloor.

They’d arrived only half an hour later than they’d anticipated and Catherine and Mariah had immediately been solicited for dances.

Benna had no interest in dancing with or talking to anyone but Jago.

She knew that was an unrealistic hope. In fact, Jago had already done his duty and danced with two young women, likely he would do even more dancing before his evening was through. Even though he wore a half-mask, every mama in the room knew he was the newly minted Earl of Trebolton.

“There were too many people around earlier for me to tell you how stunning you look,” he murmured softly. “When I saw you come down the stairs in that coat and breeches