Becoming Mrs. Benedict Page 8

  “I miss Edith and Elisabeth. I know they had their troubles, but I am glad they are better now. Do they know of Father’s death?”

  I nod. “I sent a letter explaining what happened and that you were safe now. I’m not sure how they are handling it, but they know. How are you handling it?”

  A tear wets my chest, so I hug her to me and run my fingers through her hair.

  “Shh. You don’t have to talk about it, angel.”

  My brave girl swallows her sob and lets a ragged breath out. “I do want to talk about it. Father was a good man despite his gambling problems. He only did what he did for our family. Fate had a turn in all of it, because Elisabeth met Jasper. And Edith met Alexander. But he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  I roll her onto her back so I can see her tearstained face when she breaks down. “I guess your Father, by his gambling, somehow helped each one of his daughters find love. His death wasn’t in vain. You will carry on his legacy and memories. I will carry them with you, sweet girl.”

  Her palm finds my cheek and she smiles at me. “Alcott, I never said thank you. But I do thank you for being the one to catch me that night. I was horrified and alone and terrified out of my wits. When you tugged me into your arms, I thought I was done. However, the moment I realized it was you, I had never felt so relieved in my life. I should have been embarrassed or disgusted that you had to see me that way, but I didn’t. I felt safe and protected. In that moment, I knew you would look after me until the day you died.”

  I press my lips to hers and kiss her with the promise that those feelings she had are truth. I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe. And that includes this evening.

  “Darling, you should rest,” I tell her when I finally break away from our kiss. My cock, though, begs for me to touch her more, caress her, and make love to her.

  But I cannot.

  A plan is in motion.

  “You’re right,” she sighs. “I’m rather sleepy.”

  I expected an argument or for her to continue to talk, but she rolls over with her back to me. After about ten minutes, her breathing is soft and rhythmic.

  Luck is with me tonight.

  I slip out of the bed and watch her warily. She doesn’t make a peep while she continues to sleep, so I stealthily snuff out each candle in the bedroom after I dress. Within minutes, I’m stalking down the corridor toward the front door.

  Gerald is patiently waiting by it. He’s pulled on one of his caps to hide his appearance, and now, he tosses one at me. I groan at having to wear the old man’s tobacco-scented hat.

  “Oh hush, boy. You’ll look debonair for once,” he chuckles as I reluctantly put it on my head.

  I shake my head at him in denial as I accept the sheathed knife he also hands over. Once I tuck it into the back of my trousers, we slip out the front door. We don’t take the coach and instead travel by foot, careful to stick to the shadows. Tonight, the air is cool and the tension is thick.

  So much rides on us ridding London of Caulder and his goons—my future with Ella, her fucking sanity. We cannot fail.

  “I’ll go inside, snoop around. You stand watch this time,” Gerald instructs upon our arrival.

  I grunt in frustration, though it makes sense. The men will recognize me. But Gerald? He may be able to obtain information without their knowing.

  As he walks in, I nonchalantly watch him through the window. The old man sits at the bar much like I did the night I found Ella and speaks to the bartender. After a few minutes, he turns toward me and nods his head for me to come inside.

  They’re not here.

  Bloody hell!

  I push through the door and stalk over to him.

  “What now?” I growl under my breath as he pushes a shot of whiskey toward me.

  “Next door at the inn. Poker tournament.”

  I sling the liquor back and revel in the way it burns my throat. “What are we doing sitting here, then?”

  “Patience, son. The tournament has been going on all day. When they take a break, all the men come to have a drink. We shall wait for them to come to us. Less suspicious that way.”

  Another drink is set down in front of me, and I quickly down that one as well.

  “So we wait, old man.”

  And we wait for at least another hour.

  I’ve knocked back one too many when a presence sits beside me. The fellow smells of pipe tobacco just like Gerald. Hell, he’s even small like him.

  “I’m looking for a man named Caulder.”

  The voice—so feminine and soft.

  A voice I know all too well.

  I lose my fucking mind.

  TO SIT STILL AND pretend to be asleep was the hardest thing for me to do. Especially when I knew that Alcott was planning on leaving me to follow a lead on Caulder and his men. Earlier today, when I went looking for him after my nap and overheard him speaking with Gerald, I almost went mad.

  All evening, I contemplated how I could go on my own reconnaissance mission without Alcott’s knowledge. As he so easily slipped out away from me, I had an idea.

  Now, as I stare at the mirror, I smile. I’ve sneaked into Gerald’s room and stolen one of his suits. I’m a little taller than the man, but he’s not much bigger than I am, so his clothes fit rather nicely. And for the first time in nearly a fortnight, I feel comfortable in clothing. The trousers allow me the freedom I require versus the thick, bulky dresses.

  Men have it easy.

  No corsets or petticoats.

  No hairpins or makeup.

  Suspenders and trousers and waistcoats. Easy.

  I pick one of his hats up and attempt to stuff my long, wild hair into it. After several tries, I realize I am losing time. Alcott and Gerald have been gone an hour, and I have no idea when they’ll come back. If I don’t slip out before that time, I’ll never get away.

  My only option is to cut my hair.

  Without my golden locks that hang halfway down my back, I will blend in. The chances of finding Caulder’s men and obtaining information on where he will turn up will be much easier. I need to become a man.

  I don’t hesitate as I storm from Gerald’s room into the sewing room. After wrenching open a drawer, I quickly locate a pair of sheers. They look just like Mother’s, and a memory of her assaults me.

  “Sugar bear, stay still,” Mother chides as she attempts to cut my hair straight.

  I cross my arms and pout. “I want to go play outside.”

  She sweeps a stray, blond hair from my forehead and smiles at me. “You can go play outside after I trim your hair.”

  “If you cut it all off, then I don’t have to get a haircut for a long time. I want to be a boy.”

  Lissa gasps from her chair, clearly shocked at my words. She’s next up for a haircut, and my ten-year-old sister doesn’t like it when I sass Mother—hence her horror.

  “Let her be a boy. Father always wanted one,” Edie giggles. She sticks her tongue out at me from behind Mother, so I stick mine out back.

  “That’s enough, Ella Corrine Merriweather! Put that tongue back in your mouth or I’ll snip it right off,” Mother threatens. But the corners of her mouth twitch as she fights a smile, so I know she wouldn’t really cut it off.

  “Edie started it,” I whine.

  Mother finally does smile at me as she presses a kiss to my forehead. “And I’m finishing it. We’re going to trim your hair so you can go play. One day, when you’re a grown woman, if you want to cut off your hair to look like a boy, so be it. But not while under my roof, sugar bear.”

  I blink the tears away. God, I miss her. I miss all of them. I’m thankful she’s in Heaven taking care of Father now. With a gulp, I swallow down the emotion that was thick in my throat as I realize for once I am not cursing God. As long as he takes care of my parents, he’s okay in my book.

  Walking over to the mirror in the sewing room, I regard the hair I always kept preened for my mother. She’s gone now, and I must do this. Upon raising
the sheers, I tug a handful of hair away from me.

  “Sorry, Mother,” I say firmly as I snip a chunk.

  Once it falls to the floor, I become a madwoman with the scissors. I cut and cut until I’m left with very little. Until I’m certainly the prettiest boy to ever walk this city. My blond hair hangs short just under my chin. For a moment, I worry if Alcott will hate it.

  But it is only hair, and it shall grow back.

  I sweep what’s left behind my ears and slip Gerald’s hat back on. When my blue eyes find the mirror once again, I decide I do look like a young man. In the darkness, nobody will ever notice. Women don’t wear trousers for one thing, and they certainly don’t keep their hair this short. I’ll blend right in.

  Before I leave, I locate the knife Alcott never tried to take from me. It was the knife that killed my father and then later killed William. My hope is to slay Caulder with the same sharp piece of metal. Then I can bury it in my father’s grave along with this entire horrible ordeal. My life with Alcott can begin free of worry and revenge.

  Moments later, I am slinking in the shadows outside in the street. There is loud commotion coming from the left, so I decide to head that direction. The pub and neighboring inn Gerald spoke of are supposed to be within walking distance. And after a couple of minutes, I round the corner to see Edmond’s clearly painted on a sign above a busy pub. My hope is that I may slip right in with the many other patrons and seek my information without notice.

  Sauntering much like a man would, I make my way through the throng of people toward the bar. I would recognize Alcott and his thick dark hair a meter away—however, I don’t see him anywhere. When I notice a barstool unoccupied, I stride over to it and slide down onto it. My heart is frantically beating, but I take several calming breaths to get it to relax.

  Nobody has seemed to notice that I am an imposter as of yet, and I thank the heavens that I was able to slip in undetected.

  I begin to lose some of my nerve at the prospect of actually speaking with these people in order to find information. For goodness’ sakes, I never even practiced a manly voice! I clear my throat and attempt a very manly tone as I turn to the man wearing a hat, his back to me, beside me.

  “I’m looking for a man named Caulder,” I tell him in as deep a voice as I can. To appear more casual, I lean my elbow on the bar and wait for him to turn around.

  But the moment he does, I realize I’ve made a horrible mistake.

  None other than Alcott Dumont, looking very dapper, I might add, in a cap, turns to regard me. At first, he’s shocked as he skims over my appearance, but almost immediately, he becomes outraged.

  “What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here? And what is it that you’ve done with your hair?” he hisses.

  I curl my lip in disgust. “You’re the one who left me in bed without any explanation. You were going to hide this from me!”

  His eyes flicker past me to the door and then back on me. Over his shoulder, he growls to who I now see is Gerald, “We’re leaving.”

  When his hand encircles my bicep and he yanks me off the stool, every part of me itches to slap him. However, I still don’t want to blow my cover, and making a scene would most certainly do that.

  “Let go of me, or so help me, I’ll gut you,” I threaten and tap the knife tucked into my trousers.

  He widens his dark eyes in surprise, but it’s evident in his smirk that he doesn’t believe me, although he does release my arm. “It is doubtful that some boy,” he sneers, “could hurt a man like me.”

  “I’m staying, you big ape. Whether you like it or not. We both want to find out where Caulder is. So let’s just stay and see what we can find.”

  He’s poised to argue when he once again eyes the front door. “Fuck! Gerald, it’s the same men. They’ve already made me, so I can’t risk them seeing me, especially now.” His eyes flicker down to me. “I’m taking this fella to the back.”

  Gerald grunts that he will take care of talking to the men.

  Alcott glares at me. “You will follow me to the washroom so that we may stay out of sight from those men. If you make a fuss, I’ll drag your arse back there. I will protect you, goddammit. No matter what that takes.”

  I’m stunned into tears as I follow the stalking man to the back. I want to stay, but if he’s seen those men before, I don’t want anything to happen to him. He leads me through a long corridor, and when we reach a washroom at the end, he angrily pushes through it.

  “Alcott,” I say softly from the doorway.

  When he returns to regard me, he is furious. However, even in his current state, I know he would never hurt me. Not like William did.

  “Get inside.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he seizes my wrist and roughly pulls me into the small room. The door closes behind me and he turns the lock. My pulse quickens, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s angry because he hates the way I look—I am no longer his pretty girl. I can deal with his being upset with me for putting myself in danger, but if he’s no longer attracted to me, that will be more difficult to handle. In fact, I won’t be able to handle it at all.

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted to—”

  He halts my words when he closes in on me. Nowhere to go, I find my back pressed against the door.

  “Why won’t you let me take care of you, Ella? Let me whisk you off and protect you?” he questions quietly, his nose grazing mine.

  I can sense the rage rippling from him, but his words are soft and comforting. Then my eyes fill with tears, but I blink rapidly to rid them and take a deep breath to strengthen my resolve.

  “Caulder was going to hurt me. Don’t you see? William did hurt me. He hit me. Kissed me. Spat at me. Called me names. Starved me. Made me crazy!” I shriek. “He fucked me too, Alcott. And had he not, he would have turned me over to Caulder to do the same damn thing!”

  His hand slips up my neck and a trail of fire slides up my throat with it. I nearly cry from the gentle way he strokes my jaw with his thumb as if to convey to me how sorry he is about everything that happened.

  “I know, but I cannot fucking fathom the thought of you getting hurt anymore. You’re mine to adore and protect,” he tells me firmly, nudging my nose with his. His scent envelops me, and I want to lose myself in him. “I won’t allow it, Ella. I simply won’t allow it.”

  I shake away the daze he put me in. “What?” I gasp. “You can’t control what I do. I’m a grown woman and—”

  He silences me when he seizes my lips with his. The way his mouth owns mine dizzies me, and I soon forget why it is I am even here. Between our heated kisses, though, he growls and reminds me.

  “It appears to me that you are no woman tonight, which makes your argument invalid.” He knocks the hat off my head and it falls to the floor as if to further prove his point.

  His cock painfully presses against my belly, telling me that, despite his anger, I still arouse him. It thrills me to know that he must find me attractive anyhow, even if my hair is mostly gone.

  “Does it turn you on that you want to make love to me when, clearly, I am no woman?” I taunt. The moan that escapes me is all female, though, as he drags his mouth away from mine and scrapes his teeth along my neck.

  “I do not want to make love to you. For I am too furious to make love,” he snarls against my flesh. His tone dives its way into the depths of my body, and I want to soak in it. “I want to fuck you instead, angel.”

  I yelp when pulls away from me and twists me in his arms. Then he bends me over the small counter and grabs my arse with both hands.

  “You madden me with your persistence, yet I admire that about you,” he grumbles as his hands slip around to the front of my trousers and unfastens them. “You cut off all your hair, yet you look incredibly more fucking beautiful, if that is even possible.”

  His hand slides into my hair, causing me to smile. But when he clutches a handful and tugs my head back, I moan again. The rough manner in which he touches me has
my pelvis aching and moisture dampening my knickers.

  He tangles his hand in my hair and turns my face to meet his. The moment he slams his mouth to mine, I slip into the fog that is him. Though his kiss is punishing and crude, I crave more nonetheless. It doesn’t take long before my trousers fall to the floor around my ankles.

  “I’m going to fuck you this way. I really want to whip your arse for putting yourself in danger,” he snaps, but when his palm grips my arse through my knickers, I nearly come from the touch.

  “Are you going to talk about it all evening, or are you going to make good on your threats?” It thrills me to goad him.

  Of course he bites the bait—as I knew he would—and releases my hair. My sore neck is given a reprieve as he pushes his own trousers down. When I feel him dragging my knickers off my arse and along my thighs, I whimper.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he praises on a growl low in his throat.

  My breaths are coming out fast and ragged as I anticipate what he’ll do next. A gasp bursts from me when he pushes me back down over the counter. With my backside bare to him, I feel so delightfully exposed. And he doesn’t hesitate to exact his punishment, slapping my bottom with just enough sting to make it hurt but not hurt enough.

  “I would bet every dime I had that you’re wet, angel. You’re probably soaked and praying I’ll whip your arse again. Am I right?”

  I nod in agreement but yelp when he grabs my hair once more, pulling my head back into the twisted position so I can see him. His eyes are a brewing storm, and I want it to capsize me.

  “Tell me what you want. I need to hear the words, darling,” he whispers.

  The lust-wrapped-in-love way he says them with consumes me. I want all he has to give me.

  I wriggle my bottom at him, and he swats me again in the same spot. As fire spreads over my arse cheek, I discover I am becoming increasingly wet for him. Rubbing my thighs together, I attempt to ease the ache of my desire for him between my legs.

  “Say the damn words, Ella.” His cock is thick and proud as he grinds it against me.