“An encore performance. I thought better this than wrinkled and torn evening clothing; you might want to burn those garments rather than letting your valet see the state of them if he’s anything like my tailor.”
“An excellent point,” he replied, drying himself with the linen towel. “I’ll also take this opportunity to apologize on behalf of Judith and Preston. I’m unsure what they are thinking or feeling, but they are both forthright and may speak out of turn. I haven’t told them about us.”
Delilah blinked. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“They’ll know my mind soon enough.”
After dressing, they made their way downstairs. With each step her stomach churned with trepidation, although at least it wouldn’t gurgle with hunger; tea and buttered toast had been brought up to her chamber with the hot water earlier.
In the entrance hall Delilah couldn’t stop herself smoothing his jacket; he in turn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hated feeling like this, as though they’d done something wrong and were being summoned in front of a magistrate, when the only wrongdoer was that bloody scoundrel Fletcher. But as Ben had followed her lead when confronting the lord previously, she needed to follow his when it came to his family.
She glanced heavenward, before pushing open the gaming hell door.
“Glad you could join us. Let’s speak on disgrace, debauchery, and violence, shall we?” said Lady Judith, her voice colder than the Arctic in winter.
Oh God.
It was far worse than she’d thought.
After his beloved father had passed, the trustees had taught him to suppress and conceal his true feelings and remain impassively dignified at all times. To view comfort and pleasure as crutches unbecoming of a duke. Delilah had freed him from such absurdness, and with that freedom in understanding his true self, had come the strength and desire to be his own man. To break away from the chains of obligation, and set some new expectations of his own.
In future, Bennett Innsworth would be the duke he wanted to be. However, first he had to see to his family and ensure they didn’t inadvertently do damage with their well-meaning but blunt speech.
“Exactly which aspect of disgrace, debauchery, and violence,” he said to Judith, “do you wish to discuss? I’m afraid I haven’t had time to read the story.”
“For starters, I would like to know who would be such a poor friend, such a complete bacon-brained scapegrace, that they would make you front-page news,” snapped his sister.
Bennett relaxed, rather relieved that was Judith’s opening arrow flurry rather than pointed words aimed at his lover. “So odd how these friends always prefer to remain anonymous.”
Delilah scowled at Fletcher. “Anyone who did that could never call himself a gentleman.”
Lord Hurst coughed. “It is quite obvious, Tunbury, that Mrs. Forbes has changed you for the worse. One of my servants saw you strolling in Cheapside. I’m told one morning you remained in your robe and declined a shave while you packed baskets. Most shocking of all, you punched my son in the stomach twice and forcibly removed him from this establishment. All shameful behaviors far, far beneath the dignity of a duke. After everything I’ve done for you, that I’ve been forced to darken this doorstep is beyond disappointing.”
Bennett glared at the elderly earl who had directed his life for so long; an entire decade of rules, lectures, and scoldings. Yet he couldn’t deny a part of him still winced at hearing the word ‘disappointing’. The other two trustees might have occasionally shouted and waved their hands about, however Hurst never raised his voice, just delivered all those harsh and soul-destroying words in his low monotone. But Bennett was too angry now. Too entirely finished with dancing to the tune of a man who had not only inflicted terrible harm on a grieving lad, but remained such a complete hypocrite when it came to the bad behavior of his own offspring.
He shrugged as though utterly indifferent. “Cheapside is a perfectly respectable area that also happens to house Wickham’s Confectionery, the finest in London. In regard to clothing and the state of my jaw, what I decide to do in the privacy of my own home is no one’s business but mine. As for punching Fletcher, I really should have done so years ago. No one deserves it more.”
“I beg your pardon?” spluttered the viscount. “I deserve to be punched? How dare you!”
Bennett’s temper boiled over. “Oh, I dare, and I would do so again, you goddamned bloody cretin. You think you are clever with your insults and nicknames. You are not. You think you are a man to be admired as you stagger around half-sotted with the Prince Regent and his cronies and raise your voice in front of businesswomen. You are not. You think you have all the consequence in the world, when you do nothing but cling to your father’s coattails and hide behind him instead of repairing your own mistakes—”
“Now, Tunbury,” said Lord Hurst, his eyes growing wider by the second. “That is overly harsh.”
Unable to hide his scorn any longer, Bennett snorted. “It is not, my lord. You do your son no favors in constantly indulging him. Last night he arrived here to create a scene and ruin the Temple’s reputation for sport; all because he was refused membership as any hostess with good business sense would have done. I thought I made it clear yesterday that he should not return, and yet here he is…with Papa in tow, as per usual. The only thing that is beneath my ducal dignity is wasting any more time on either of you. Delilah Forbes is magnificent in every way, and if finding joy in the arms of the woman I love makes me debauched and disgraced, then so be it. Consider me quite fallen.”
A range of sounds echoed in the cavernous gaming hell. Applause from his brother-in-law. A muffled cough from Judith. But the two men he’d just unleashed upon were thoroughly outraged, gasping like landed trout and with such red faces it was a wonder they didn’t explode.
Lord Hurst rose to his feet. “You are young, Tunbury. And shockingly ungrateful.”
“No, my lord. I am most grateful you did not steal money from my coffers, and for teaching me estate management. The rest I shall discard, for it is not useful to the man I truly am, or truly wish to be. So I shall bid you farewell. Forever. Oh, and one final point: your son is not, never was, and never will be my friend. Good day.”
“Really, Tun, this is quite beyond the pale,” said Fletcher peevishly as he stood, shoving his chair behind him so it clattered onto the floor.
Bennett gestured to the gaming hell entrance. “Not Tun. I am the Duke of Tunbury. And I said good day.”
The two men marched in affront to the door, and when it closed behind them, Bennett braced his hands on the card table, just to reorder his thoughts. Judith and Preston were staring openmouthed at him now, and he really wasn’t in the mood to explain. In truth, the only reaction he needed to see was Delilah’s, considering what he’d announced about her.
Turning his head, he met her startled gaze. “Sweetheart?”
“I’m so proud of you for putting those two wretches in their place after all the hurtful things they’ve done,” she said slowly. “But you said…you love me?”
His sister leaped to her feet. “Yes. He does. Bennett confessed to Preston and me several nights ago, although he did not provide your name. But it troubled me then as it troubles me now—”