“Nothing.” Elinor swallowed hard. “Nothing of importance. Let us race to the end of the next field.” She urged Buttercup on before he could respond. Any answer that he might have made was lost in the wind as she galloped across the field, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.
Mrs. De Lacey was at least fifteen years older than Benedict…but older women married younger men often enough when those women were wealthy. And with Gavin Armitage so clearly charming Penelope, who could blame Benedict for fixing on a new prospect for his family’s salvation?
Elinor wanted to be sick. But when Benedict caught up with her, and their horses stood panting at the end of the race, she only gave him an imperiously dismissive smile. “I think we’d better let the others catch up with us, don’t you?”
He looked at her steadily. His cheeks were flushed with colour from the race; his brown hair was tousled by the wind. “Is that what you wish?”
“Of course,” she said, and turned away from him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
They arrived at the ruins half an hour later, in company with the rest of the party. The servants had come much earlier, of course, so a picnic lay spread out and waiting for them near the remains of a medieval manor house. The roof had crumbled long ago, along with half of the outer walls, but the skeleton of the old stone house still remained, rambling along the side of a broad brown river.
“Oh, how perfectly delightful!” said Miss Armitage. “Gavin, you must build a set of ruins at Stanton Court. I absolutely insist upon it.”
“Oh, yes,” Millie breathed. “Just think, Mr. Armitage, you could have Roman ruins of your very own! Or even an abandoned abbey. Just think of all those ghosts!”
“Oh, Iwouldlove ghosts,” Penelope said. “Just think how everyone would talk about them!” She smiled into Gavin Armitage’s eyes as he set his hands firmly around her waist and swung her down off her horse.
Elinor rolled her own eyes as she slid down off her horse, too quickly for Benedict to assist her. The last thing she needed—for the sake of both the illusion and her own peace of mind—was for him to put his hands around her waist right now.
“I am almost entirely certain,” she said, “that ghosts only haunt real, abandoned ruins.”
“Nonsense,” Gavin Armitage said gaily. “Any ruins I build will be quite convincing enough for ghosts, I promise you. If Miss Hathergill desires ghosts, then ghosts she shall have.”
“You may trust my brother on that,” said Miss Armitage. “Gavin can persuade anyone of anything, I assure you. Ghosts would have no chance whatsoever of resisting his blandishments.”
He bowed, grinning. “You see? The matter is settled. Now the only question left is which era the ruins should hearken from.” His lip curled into a sneer as he looked across at Benedict. “What about you, Hawkins? Can you advise us? How many ruins have you built upon your great estate?”
“Oddly enough,” said Benedict, “I haven’t even been tempted.” He looked the other man in the eye with open disdain. “I like real ruins, like this one, but I don’t care much for wasting an estate’s funds on a pretense of past glory.”
Elinor winced and stepped away from Benedict. As she brushed down the skirts of her aunt’s riding habit, she watched Mrs. De Lacey’s hands perform the task. Just how much pretense had gone into her disguise in the past few days?
“A noble principle,” said Gavin Armitage. It wasn’t just his lip curling now; his nostrils flared too, until he looked like an angry horse. “It’s a pity your father didn’t share it.”
Benedict’s jaw set. He stepped forward. “I beg your pardon?”
“He—”
“Oh, Gavin.” Laughing, Miss Armitage placed a hand on her brother’s arm. “Honestly,gentlemen. Only let them outside on a nice sunny day and they turn into territorial animals, don’t they?” She shot commiserating glances at all the women in the circle.
Benedict was still glaring at Gavin. “What exactly did you mean to say about my father?”
A long look passed between Gavin Armitage and his sister. He shook off her arm and stepped back. “Nothing at all. Only a moment of confusion. Because we all know…” He raked Benedict up and down with a contemptuous gaze. “Youwould certainly never pretend to be anything other than what you are, would you? Even to impress…” His gaze slid idly across Penelope’s frowning face. “…anyone?”
“I…”
“Of course not,” Miss Armitage said warmly, before Benedict could continue. “Mr. Hawkins doesn’t believe in putting on any pretense of false glory. So I am certain he is to be trusted.”
Benedict stayed stonily silent, while Penelope looked back and forth between them with narrowing eyes. It was left to Millie to say, with a half-giggle, “I don’t understand a word that any of you just said. Whatareyou all gossiping about?”
“Nothing relevant,” said Mr. Armitage. “At least—it won’t be relevant as long as Mr. Hawkins doesn’t break our trust.”
With a charming smile, he offered Penelope one arm, and Millie the other. “Shall we enjoy a little stroll before we picnic? I do like to work up an appetite.”
Chapter 23
“They know,” Elinor said.
Two hours after their arrival at the ruins, the party had set off back for home. This time, she and Benedict had struck off together from the beginning, without needing to exchange a word in advance. As soon as they were safely out of hearing distance of the others, she slowed Buttercup and nudged her closer to Benedict’s mount for ease of conversation. “They both know, I mean. Mr. Armitage and his sister.”
