Ben’s awareness of Eve on the seat beside him eclipsed everything in the lecture room. He was in tune to every breath she took, the faint scent of her soap, the heat of her body filling the space between them even as she sat at the far edge of her chair to create distance.
He ached to touch her. Nothing too conspicuous. Just the casual brush of their arms or a surreptitious stroke of his finger against her inner wrist. But she was no longer his to touch. Ben reminded himself of this many times a day, but it didn’t feel true no matter how often he repeated it. He folded his hands in his lap to keep from acting on the impulse.
Hackberry didn’t believe he had made any progress with discouraging Eve. Ben was uncertain that was true. The way her pert nose wrinkled when Hackberry rushed off to the lectern without bidding her farewell spoke volumes. She was not pleased. Ben simply hoped her displeasure was directed at Hackberry only.
Encouraging Eve to toss over Hackberry was only half the battle, though. Ben needed to get back in her good graces if he hoped to win her heart again, and he needed to proceed carefully. If he overstepped his bounds, Eve would have nothing more to do with him. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to give in to temptation and make a cuckold of Hackberry, so until she cried off, Ben must practice patience.
There would be plenty of time to court Eve once Hackberry was no longer a threat. With only a week and a half left until the wedding, however, Hackberry needed to step up his efforts. Ben suspected he wasn’t trying hard enough, or else Eve didn’t want to see Hackberry’s faults.
At the conclusion of the lecture, Hackberry chose a seat at the front of the room instead of joining them. A long stretch of quiet followed as another gentleman with slicked-down hair shuffled through his papers at the lectern, his lips moving as if he was mumbling to himself. Ben soon lost interest in the goings-on at the front of the room.
Eve turned her head and caught him staring at her. Her tentative smile made his pulse quicken. It had been too long since she had looked on him with anything resembling pleasure. She leaned to whisper in his ear. “I think Alice is getting antsy.”
Peeking around Eve, Ben discovered the maid nibbling on her fingernails. He placed his mouth close to Eve’s ear and whispered back, “I could arrange a tour if you think she would prefer to view the exhibits.”
A slight quiver traveled through her. “Yes.” Her voice had a wispy quality to it that made him smile. “I believe she would enjoy a tour. M-may I join you?”
His smile grew and he held out his hand. “Shall we?” When she placed her hand in his, it required all his willpower not to gloat over this small victory.
The three of them slipped through the door as quietly as possible before the next lecturer began. He believed Hackberry would forgive their defection. In fact, he had been agreeable about the whole situation, which made him a bigger man than Ben. At first, Ben believed Hackberry’s willingness to step aside was the act of a greedy man obsessed with his studies, but Ben didn’t think that was true anymore. He seemed genuinely concerned for Eve’s welfare and interested in her happiness, which only made Hackberry’s decision more puzzling.
After their dance lesson, the poor man had looked miserable. He’d lamented giving Eve flowers that made her sneeze and causing her to become hurt during the waltz. Ben had tried to reassure him that despite being a horrid dancer, Hackberry wasn’t responsible. Ben blamed himself. Even though he had known his presence made her uncomfortable, he had positioned himself where she couldn’t avoid seeing him. Eve’s injury was the result of being distracted and troubled by his presence. He was pleased she seemed more comfortable with him today.
“Wait here.” Ben left Eve and her maid at the top of the stairs while he went to speak with the porter about locating a guide to show them around the museum. After they exchanged introductions with an older gentleman joining their group for the tour, the under-librarian led them to the upper floor where the insect exhibit was housed. Ben expected insects would hold little appeal for the women, but Alice seemed enraptured as their guide pointed out the different species and shared facts about the insect life cycle. When the under-librarian invited them to follow him to the worm exhibit, Alice was on his heels.
Ben and Eve hung back, walking at a sedate pace. She watched her maid with a soft smile, then linked her arm with his. “I’ve never seen Alice this excited about anything. I should allow her to accompany me on outings more often. Thank you for suggesting a tour.”
“It was my pleasure.” His voice sounded husky, and he cleared his throat. “Has she been to Vauxhall Gardens?”
Eve shook her head. “But that is a marvelous idea. I always loved dining outdoors and the orchestra. I haven’t been in ages, not since—”
A becoming blush gave color to her cheeks and her freckles nearly disappeared. Not since their courtship two years earlier when Ben had taken her and stolen a kiss on one of the winding paths? That was the first time he’d said he loved her.
“I, too, have fond memories of the gardens,” he murmured. Her blush deepened to a dark rose color, and she changed the subject.
“Did Amelia relay my thanks for the flowers?” she asked.
“She did. I hope it was acceptable to send them with my sister-in-law.” Ben had felt awful about the daisies too, and he’d tried to erase the mistake with a dozen pink peonies and best wishes for a speedy recovery. Since he couldn’t send flowers to a lady he wasn’t allowed to court, he had requested Amelia’s assistance in delivering them.
“It was a lovely gesture, but unnecessary,” Eve said. “My injury was nothing serious, but the flowers lifted my spirits. Peonies have always been my favorite.”
“I remembered.”
She drew to a stop; a small crease appeared between her brows. “How is it we have been apart for two years and you recall my favorite flower, but Sir Jonathan—” She shook her head. “No, this is not an appropriate topic for conversation.”
When she tried to walk away, Ben caught her hand. “Evie,” he said softly. “You may talk to me.” At one time, she had shared everything with him—her doubts, her dreams, her family secrets. He had shared everything with her as well. She was the only person he’d ever talked to about Charlotte’s accident.
She worked her hand free and crossed her arms. “But I shouldn’t. It is not proper to air dirty laundry in public.”
He gestured to the empty room. “There is no one around to eavesdrop. If you need someone to listen… Once, we were friends too, were we not?”
“We were.” Her lips turned down. “But we were also more, which makes it wrong that I should turn to you.” Her protest sounded weak.
He suspected she wanted to confide in him, but pressing the issue would send her running again. He waited patiently while she wrestled with whether she could allow him to become her confidant again. She pressed her lips tightly together as if struggling to contain her words. Eventually, she lost the battle.
“Promise you will not assign this more meaning than it has. I am marrying Sir Jonathan. I have given my word; a contract exists between us. My course has been set.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “I promise to assign no unintended meaning to anything you confide in me.”
“All right.” She brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead, her gaze wary. “Lately I have begun to wonder how well I really know my betrothed, or how well he knows me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t know my favorite flower, or what color I prefer, or even how I take my tea. And yet I suspect you do.”
Ben smiled. “Emerald. Cream, no sugar.”
Eve nodded, a soft glow emanating from her dark brown eyes. “I do not hold Sir Jonathan at fault. I do not know much about him either, other than he is uncommonly preoccupied with drums, and Athena lately. Oh, and his favorite ice, but I have a ten-year-old to thank for that information. He doesn’t offer much without prompting.” Her chuckle had a self-deprecating quality to it, and a pink blush dusted her cheeks. “I sound silly, don’t I?”
“I’ve never thought you were silly, Evie.” If that was all she truly knew about her betrothed, it wasn’t much.
She threaded her fingers together and pressed her hands against her chest as if praying. “I realize how Sir Jonathan likes his steak or the title of his favorite book seem trivial, things I could discover once we are wed. Still, I cannot help wondering if we are walking down the aisle too soon. We don’t know the smallest details about each other, which makes me worry there could be bigger, more important facts we don’t know either.”
Ben couldn’t imagine Hackberry had any secrets to warrant her concern, and yet he didn’t want to dismiss her outright, especially when she seemed to need a friend’s ear. “What has he done to make you doubt him?”
Her head snapped up; her lips parted. “I-I never said I doubted him.”
True, not with words, but she didn’t have to say it aloud. The way she picked at her gloves and averted her gaze when she spoke of Hackberry revealed more than she realized. Ben held his tongue while she seemed to be sorting through her thoughts.
Her tongue darted over her lips and she looked away again. “I do not doubt him. I doubt myself and my judgment.”
Because of what Ben had done. She didn’t need to point a finger for him to know her reservations stemmed from his betrayal. “You have no reason to doubt yourself.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I think I might have been blind to his faults until recently. He can be so thoughtless at times, and woolly-headed and…and something else I cannot name. For instance, a man was following us earlier, and Sir Jonathan was oblivious. When I alerted him, he spun in circles—not noticing a thing—knocked me into Alice and then tripped a soldier, a large one. He nearly wound up in a fight, and I thought he would be killed, but the soldier seemed frightened. I saw a different side to Sir Jonathan. Just for a moment, but—”
“Wait.” Ben shook his head to clear his confusion. “Someone followed you to the museum?”
“I’m not completely certain he was following us, but he ran away when I pointed him out.”
“What did Hackberry say? Did he know the man?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That is what I was trying to tell you. He never saw him, because he was too busy bumping into me and instigating a fight.”
“But you saw the man. Can you describe him?”
“I only had a brief view, but there was nothing remarkable about him. Light brown hair, skin tanned from the sun, I imagine. And his coat was a dull gray.”
God’s blood! She was describing Mr. Armstrong. The investigator had already been paid for his services. Why would he continue to follow Hackberry? Ben schooled his features so Eve couldn’t detect his irritation, or culpability in the afternoon’s events. “You said Hackberry nearly came to blows with a soldier on the walkway. How did that come about?”
Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Good heavens, it was the most impressive display of clumsiness I’ve ever seen. He was fumbling about, his cane swinging this way and that.” She linked arms with Ben and relayed the events in a flurry of whispers as they trailed after their tour group, her lively recitation making him laugh.