Mr. Aubrey wasn’t in the library, where they first looked, but Benedict walked past the drawing room without a pause, ignoring the hum of voices rising behind the door. Instead, he led Elinor up the staircase to the second-floor wing of the house where the bachelors were quartered. While Elinor looked guiltily around the empty hallway for observers, he knocked sharply on the fourth door to the right, then turned the door handle and walked inside without waiting for a reply.
“Leave your books for a moment, Aubrey! We need your help.”
Elinor whisked in and closed the door quickly, before anyone could catch sight of her. She was the only one who seemed worried about the proprieties, though…and the room she walked into bore little resemblance to anything she had ever imagined as a dangerous bachelor’s bedroom.
Much like the carriage they had traveled in, Aubrey’s bedroom was entirely carpeted with papers and books. He sat on the floor in the center of it all—indeed, there would have been no space to sit on the bed—and his hair looked wildly rumpled. as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it.
But actually, Elinor corrected herself, it must have been his pen that had done that rumpling. There were several distinct spots of blue ink scattered among the wild blond tufts.
“It’s all very well to say ‘leave your books,’” Aubrey muttered, “but it isn’t as simple as all that. I’ve had another letter from my friend in Wales, and if he’s right, there’s a devilish complicated situation springing up that needs my urgent attention. If I can just figure the probable length of a wingtip when—”
“You will,” Benedict said, “but have a heart, Aubrey. I’m in urgent trouble of my own right now.”
“Again?” Mr. Aubrey sighed and took off his glasses. “This isn’t to do with your marriage scheme, is it? I must say, I don’t care for your future fiancée. If she knows a single word of Latin, I’d be surprised.”
“Ah…” Benedict’s lips twitched as he looked at Elinor. “Miss Tregarth?”
She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her own lips. “My sister Harry knows Latin very well,” she offered. “I suppose she could teach to me by post if required.”
“Only for Aubrey’s wife,” Benedict assured her. “Never my own.”
“Hmph,” said Mr. Aubrey. “More fool you. How could you ever have an interesting conversation with anyone who can’t even debate a Latin manuscript?”
“Some of us find a way,” said Benedict. “But I think you will find this interesting, even though it’s not in Latin. I have a question for you about dragons.”
“Oh?” Mr. Aubrey put his glasses back on. Then he looked at Elinor and his eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, no. This is Mrs. De Lacey, isn’t it? Hawkins, if you dare tell me you’ve joined in that offensively foolish practical joke she tried to play on me when we first arrived—”
“I’m deadly serious,” said Benedict, “and so is she. There was never any joking involved.”
Mr. Aubrey looked at him for a long moment. Then, without a word, he rose to his feet. His hands had clenched about his pen and his open book; his face was pale with fury.
“If the two of you will excuse me,” he said with icy courtesy, “I’m afraid I need to pack. I am leaving Hathergill Hall immediately.”
Chapter 26
“Aubrey!” Benedict started forward. “For God’s sake, man, just listen—”
“Listen?” Mr. Aubrey stormed across the room, gathering up heaps of papers with every step. “You want me to listen to you, Hawkins? Why, do you need some fresh entertainment? You’ve grown bored and decided to start laughing at me with your new friends?”
“No!” Benedict said. “It’s not like that.”
“Is it not?” Mr. Aubrey snatched up a traveling case and threw it onto the teetering pile of books that covered the bed. The case popped open at the impact, and he began stuffing papers into it with furious concentration. “I may not pay attention to the trivialities of fashionable life, but I amnotwitless. Or perhaps I am, as I actually thought us good friends!”
“We are!” Benedict said. “I—”
“I am almost a week late to an important visit, only because I wished to do a favor for you!” said Mr. Aubrey. “I have been suffocated in this illiterate household for days and days, forced to listen to vapid laughter and inanities at every hour of day and night. And now you want to play me for a laughingstock?”
“No!” Benedict strode across the room and slammed the case closed. “Damn it, Aubrey, if you’ll only hear me out—”
Mr. Aubrey grabbed the lid of the case to force it open. Benedict held it shut. In a moment, they would start brawling. Elinor gritted her teeth, set Sir Jessamyn down, and hurried across the room, aware that she was trampling important papers with every footstep.
“Mr. Aubrey!” she said sharply. “Look at me!”
“If you think I have time for idle banter, Madam…” He shot her an irritated, sidelong look as he continued to grapple over the traveling case.
Seizing her chance, Elinor stripped off her right glove and placed her bare hand on his face.
It was an act of startling impropriety, as even Mr. Aubrey clearly realized. He fell back, so startled that his hands dropped to his sides…and then his eyes widened behind his spectacles, and he leaned forward.
