Carole Mortimer - Some Like to Shock

Not that Benedict had ever been known to prey on unprotected females, but as a widow of five and twenty years, that term hardly applied to Genevieve Forster. A public acquaintance with her would do well as a foil for his own movements over the next few weeks, in his capacity as a spy for the Crown, with the added bonus that her beauty and vivacity would also ensure that Benedict enjoyed that acquaintance.

‘Unless, of course, you feel it would be too daring to travel alone with me in my carriage …?’ he now challenged softly.

Genevieve bristled at what she considered to be a slur upon the independence she had tried so hard to acquire since her widowhood a year ago. She was also well past the first flush of youth. She was a duchess, and a widow, and as such she could, and would, now behave as she pleased.

Neither would she give the arrogantly mocking Benedict Lucas the satisfaction of thinking her a coward. ‘Not at all, my lord,’ she assured him frostily. ‘If you will just give me a moment to dismiss my own carriage?’

‘And your maid?’

Her spine stiffened at this further challenge. ‘And my maid,’ she conceded coolly after several seconds’ thought.

‘Shall we …?’ Benedict Lucas offered her his arm to escort her down the steps.

Genevieve’s cheeks were pale and her heart was beating a little too rapidly in her chest as she placed a gloved hand lightly upon that muscled arm and allowed Benedict Lucas to escort her down to her carriage, whereupon he excused himself to stroll across to engage in conversation with his own coachman as he waited for her to join him.

‘Are you sure, your Grace?’ May, Genevieve’s maid for the past seven years, had given a wide-eyed glance in the direction of the dark and dangerously attractive Lucifer upon being informed of Genevieve’s intention to ride home in his carriage with him.

‘I am very sure, yes,’ Genevieve stated more firmly than she felt. May knew better than most how horrific Genevieve’s marriage to Josiah Forster had been.

Her maid looked unconvinced. ‘I’ve heard such tales about that particular gentleman—’

‘That will be quite enough, thank you, May.’ Genevieve had also heard ‘tales’ about Lucifer, and all of them wicked. But what else could she have done when he had challenged her so obviously?

Run as far away as was possible, came the instant and emphatic answer!

No, she would not, could not, continue to live in the way she had been forced to live during her marriage to Josiah, frightened of her own shadow most of the time. No matter how much the thoughts of being alone with any gentleman made her pulse flutter and her stomach clench with nausea!

Besides, what could Benedict Lucas possibly do to her in his carriage in broad daylight …?

‘Is that really necessary, my lord?’

Benedict smiled at Genevieve Forster as she sat across the carriage from him, those blue eyes wide as she watched him pulling down the blinds on the windows. ‘Do you not find the sun a little … overbright?’ he drawled derisively.

She studied him for several long seconds. ‘It is a little … intrusive,’ she finally conceded abruptly.

‘Exactly.’ Benedict’s gaze continued to meet hers as he pulled down the last of the blinds. ‘This is much cosier,’ he murmured appreciatively.

‘Much.’ The coolness of her smile was belied by the telltale rapid beating of her pulse in the slenderness of her throat. ‘Tell me, were you as surprised by today’s wedding as I?’

‘No,’ he answered unhelpfully; the confidences of the bridegroom were exactly that, confidences, and they would remain so.

‘Do you think—?’

‘No.’

Genevieve Forster arched red-gold brows. ‘You have not heard my question as yet.’

Benedict gave a hard smile. ‘It is not necessary when I have no intention of discussing the private business of today’s bride or groom.’ His gaze moved to the firm swell of her breasts as she drew in a deep breath. ‘That is a very pretty … necklace you are wearing.’

‘I—Thank you.’ Her gloved fingers instinctively moved to touch the sapphire as large as a robin’s egg nestling between her breasts. ‘It was a wedding gift,’ she added stiffly.

‘Obviously your husband was a gentleman of discerning tastes,’ Benedict murmured softly. ‘Both in his wife and the jewellery he bestowed upon her.’

‘You may choose to think that if you wish, Lucas.’ Genevieve’s voice had hardened to ice.

The sharpness of Benedict’s narrowed gaze returned to her face, easily noting the twin spots of colour that had appeared in her cheeks and the angry sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes. ‘The duke was not a gentleman of discerning tastes …?’ he said slowly.

‘He was not a gentleman at all!’ she snapped scathingly. ‘And, might I say, Lucas, that if you invited me into your carriage with any intention of furthering our acquaintance, then I believe I must tell you that, by introducing the subject of my late husband into our conversation, you have failed utterly!’

Benedict’s brows rose at the directness of her statement. ‘Your marriage was not a happy one?’

‘Obviously not.’

Genevieve Forster was proving more of a distraction than Benedict would ever have guessed before engaging in conversation with her.

‘You did not find becoming a duchess suitable … compensation, for the duke’s deficiencies as a husband?’

‘I did not.’ Genevieve’s mood was not in the least lightened by the glint of humour she was sure she could now see in the darkness of Benedict Lucas’s eyes. ‘A word of caution, perhaps, for the next time you find yourself alone with a lady, might be not to mention the woman’s dead husband!’

‘If I have offended—’

‘I am not offended, my lord, I am merely bored by this conversation.’ She turned to raise the blind beside her before looking out at the street below.

Benedict sat back in stunned silence for several long seconds, as he acknowledged he had never encountered a woman quite like Genevieve Forster before. For all that he was always discreet, Benedict had known a number of women intimately this past twelve years. Women he had desired physically, but had no interest in knowing in any other way, let alone any of the private details of the lives they had led before he met them.

His intentions towards Genevieve Forster had been equally dispassionate, in that it had been his intention to use a friendship with her, as he had others in the past, as a shield to his appearance in society. Benedict usually made a point of avoiding attending any of society’s balls and parties, and it was only when it was required, in his role as agent for the crown, that he deigned to accept any of those invitations.

For Genevieve Forster to so firmly express her own lack of interest in continuing their acquaintance was galling, and yet somehow intriguing, at the same time. ‘Is there not some way in which I might redeem myself?’ he cajoled softly.

An irritated frown still creased her creamy brow as she turned to look at him. ‘I should tell you that I was married for six unhappy years and have spent the last year in mourning for a husband I thoroughly detested. As such I seek only adventure and fun in my life in future.’

Benedict had known of the huge difference in ages between the duke and his wife, but until now he had not been aware of the circumstances of Genevieve’s marriage to Josiah Forster. Now that he did, he could not help but wonder in what manner that marriage had been so unhappy. ‘And you believe me to be incapable of providing that adventure and fun?’ He arched dark brows.

‘Adventure of a kind, perhaps,’ she acknowledged in measured tones. ‘After all, you are known as the dangerous and elusive Lucifer.’