The Postilion (The Masqueraders #2) - S.M. LaViolette Page 0,81

that jealousy?

How could she not be jealous of this woman? She was gorgeous and wealthy and held Jago’s interest—or at least she had done many years ago.

Mrs. Valera strolled around the table toward Benna, not stopping until she was almost standing on the toes of her boots.

Benna was just about to step back when Mrs. Valera looked up from the plans on the table, her eyelids heavy. “You are quite an all-around man, aren’t you, Ben? First a groom—or was it a postilion?—and now a secretary. What next? Nobleman in disguise?” She chuckled, dragging a finger across the back of Benna’s bare hand.

Benna’s heart lurched at the woman’s bizarre words and she snatched her hand back as if she’d been burnt.

Mrs. Valera laughed. “Such a nervous young gentleman.” She fluttered her lashes and then turned away with a swish of her skirts, her hips swaying seductively as she strolled across the room, casually inspecting the row of trunks in front of the desk.

“Is the earl moving somewhere?”

“I b-beg your pardon?” Benna stammered, her mind still reeling from the other woman’s terrifyingly accurate comment. Did she know something? After all, she was a friend of Viscount Fenwick’s. Had he recognized Benna? But that had been days ago. Surely if—

“I asked if he was moving; what are all these for?” Mrs. Valera gestured to the trunks that were lined up on the floor.

“Er, they were filled with books and his lordship is having them re-shelved.”

Mrs. Valera’s auburn eyebrows arched. “These don’t look like books.” She nudged one of the open trunks with the toe of a lemon-yellow ankle boot.

Benna pushed up her glasses and squinted through a thumbprint at what the other woman was pointing at. It looked like the trunk they’d unlocked last night.

“No, those are just some old documents.”

“Old documents? How tedious that must be. Why would you go through such things? Why not just burn them?”

Benna frowned. “Because Lord Trebolton has requested that I look through them all.” Just what was the woman after? And what favor did she want from Benna?

As if she’d spoken aloud, Mrs. Valera said, “I daresay you’re wondering why I wanted—”

The door opened and Benna turned at the sound.

The earl stood on the threshold, his eyes flickering between Benna and Mrs. Valera.

“Ria, how are you? Nance told me you were in here.” His expression was strangely … tight as he came toward the redhead and took her hand in both of his, raising it to his mouth in a courtly, almost romantic, gesture.

Benna turned away, absently straightening a stack of papers that were on the corner of the trestle table. She saw that her fingers were shaking and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Nance told me you wished to speak to Ben,” Jago said.

“Oh, I just wanted to make sure that Ben knew he was invited to my costume ball.”

Benna looked up, more than a little surprised.

She couldn’t have been more surprised than Jago, who was briefly wide-eyed before his polite mask slipped back into place. “How thoughtful of you, Ria.” He glanced at Benna. “I’m sure Ben would love to attend, provided he has time to cobble together a costume on such short notice.”

“Oh pooh. A costume for a man is hardly the work of a moment and Ben is such a clever young gentleman.” Mrs. Valera gave Benna a dismissive smile and turned to the earl. “Now that you are here, Jago, there was something I wished to speak to you about. In private."

That was Benna’s cue. “If you would excuse me, my lord, Mrs. Valera.”

Jago nodded but didn’t look at her, seemingly unable to pull his gaze from Mrs. Valera as he led her toward the couch, still holding her hand.

Benna closed the door and leaned back against it, briefly closing her eyes, as if that could erase the vision of the two beautiful people burnt into her brain.

It was as clear as the very prominent nose on her face; Lord Trebolton was in love with the gorgeous—and wealthy—woman.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cornwall

1817

Present Day

Jago relaxed slightly once Benna had left the room.

He couldn’t have said why, but something about seeing Ria alone with the younger woman had left him feeling disturbed—like leaving a kitten unattended with a cobra.

“I am so glad you returned before I left,” Ria said as they settled down on the settee. She did not release his hand and Jago did not push the issue. Ria would play her games and Jago would go along with her. Any illusions that he’d