The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,40
his employ?”
“No, my lord. It was Mr. Fielding.”
He gave an unamused snort. “I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. He’s a man who has his wits about him—unlike me, apparently. When did that happen?”
“It was the day after the Redruth Mine cave-in.”
“Tell me what happened.”
Benna was grateful to put the rest of her story aside for the moment.
“Do you know Mr. Fielding well?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“No. I get the feeling that nobody does, not even Worth.”
Benna could well believe it.
The enigmatic John Fielding worked for Stephen Worth, although Benna thought he was something more than just a servant to the wealthy American.
Fielding was built like a stone wall with a personality to match. His face was hideously scarred with violent cuts that extended out from the corners of his mouth, as if his assailants had wanted to slice his head in half. What kind of man could not only survive such horrific punishment, but thrive afterward?
John Fielding had not just survived the pain of his past, he had been forged by it: forged into something hard and inhuman and implacable.
It wasn’t just Fielding’s huge body and disfigured face that were terrifying, it was his eyes: dark, pitiless pools of black that bored through everything in their path like augers. Eyes that had made Benna’s blood turn cold whenever they’d landed on her.
Benna saw the earl was waiting. “The day of the cave-in had been chaos in the stables—you remember I came to fetch you?”
“Yes—Fielding sent you, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “Well, earlier that day I, er, ran into Mr. Fielding and he caught me before I fell.”
Benna could see from the earl’s expression that he knew where this was going.
“I didn’t think anything of it until the next day. Fielding came to me while I was grooming one of Mr. Worth’s horses.”
“Piddock!” Benna could still recall how her body had frozen in mid-curry at the sound of Fielding’s bellow.
When he’d stalked into the stall Benna had tried not to stare at his scars, not an easy thing to do when they covered most of his face.
“Yes, Mr. Fielding?”
“Come with me.” The huge man had turned smoothly; he moved like a cat for a man well over six feet.
Benna had followed him to Fielding’s horse’s stall, her legs wobbly with fear, her mind shrieking to run in the opposite direction.
Fielding jabbed a finger at his horse. “Did you do this?”
Benna glanced from the horse’s mane to the grim giant. “You mean did I groom him, sir?”
Fielding jerked out a nod.
“Uh, yes, sir. I just thought I’d give him a bit of care when I brought him his oats.”
“How many times have I told you not to come near him?”
Benna’s face got hot and she looked down at her feet. “A few, sir.”
“You need to find yourself another place.”
Her head whipped up. “But, Mr. Fielding, I promise that won’t happen again, please, I won’t—”
“Shut it.” The words were a low rumble, like the sound of boulders bouncing down a rocky cliff. Fielding’s harsh features had then twitched into an even more horrifying expression: a smile. He took a long stride toward Ben and it was all she could do not to step back. Instead, she craned her neck until it hurt.
Eyes like tar pits held her mesmerized. “I know what you are, boy.”
“Wha-What I am, sir?”
“It took me longer than it should have. I must be dicked in the nob to have been fooled for so long. But even a thick-witted bastard like me could guess what you are when you ran into me yesterday.”
Benna’s breath froze in her chest.
Hell-black eyes drifted down Ben’s body in a manner calculated to insult. “You’re not much of a girl, but a girl you are. And you’ve no place in Worth’s household with whatever joukery-pawkery you’re up to.”
For one horrible moment she’d thought that he’d somehow found out who she was, not just what.
Benna had opened her mouth to protest any trickery but he held up a big hand. A big six-fingered hand.
“Whatever it is you want to say? Don’t bother. I don’t care why you’re here or what you’re doing. But I know trouble when I see it. Mr. Worth is my responsibility and he doesn’t need any more trouble.” He added under his breath, “He makes enough for himself. So, find yourself other employment. Understood?”
How could Ben have possibly misunderstood?
“Go ask Trebolton for work, is what he told me,” Benna said, leaving out the insulting part of Fielding’s suggestion.