Page 26 of Bewitching Benedict (The Lovelorn Lads #1)

Worthington cleared his throat. "There's no need for you to return in a public conveyance, Mr Graham. Miss Dalton's carriage awaits. Perhaps she could escort you home."

"Perhaps she could," Graham murmured. "She has been a surprise in every other way."

Indeed she had been, Worthington thought, and assisted them both into the waiting coach.

"'Uncle' Jack," Claire said quietly, once within the confines of the carriage.

It seemed much more luxurious and rich than it had on her journey out; the ebony inlays around the windows now an extravagance, the soft blue velvet covering well-padded seats a touch of the divine that defied the harder, colder reality she had just encountered.

It was difficult to look at Jack Graham, whose face was a twist of torment and guilt. "Are you really their uncle?"

"Oh, Miss Dalton!" Graham burst out. "Forgive me for embroiling you in this unfortunate situation! I admit I have longed to have a confidante, but it should never have been one as delicate and refined as yourself?—!"

Claire, with a hint of exasperation warming her, said, "I have seen a little of poverty, Mr Graham, and I certainly know what fate befalls women and children both when they fail Society's expectations. Are you their uncle?"

"I am." Graham fell back in his seat, pale and wan against the rich blue velvet.

For long minutes they rattled along in silence, Graham lost in thought as he gazed out the window.

Claire, burgeoning with curiosity, was not so desperate as to intrude.

His look was one of sorrow and regret, and whatever the story, it could not be an easy one to tell.

"I had a sister," Graham said suddenly, as if finally committing himself to the tale.

"Juliet. She was five years my younger and we all doted on her.

She was hardly more than a girl when a…" Here he cast a brief look at Claire and nearly strangled himself on his choicest words, replacing them instead with an understated, "…

bad man. A cruel, beautiful man, seduced her.

She was very young and very foolish, and very certain he would marry her.

He did not," Graham said with such simplicity as to make Claire's heart ache.

"He abandoned her. My parents cast her out.

And I—I abandoned all, to care for her. I had—nearly—been engaged to be married, and I abandoned my beloved as well, without explanation. "

An ache of comprehension clogged Claire's throat. It was a few seconds before she was able to whisper, "Miss Hurst," a deduction for which she received a sad smile.

"Yes, Miss Hurst. I hadn't seen her again until our afternoon in the park. I must apologize again, Miss Dalton?—"

"Not at all," Claire said with such resolution that she was surprised by it. She had imagined a falling out between Miss Hurst and Mr Graham, but not a tragedy. "Please, will you tell me the rest?"

Graham shrugged. "My parents cut me off when it became clear I wouldn't abandon Juliet.

They put it about that she had contracted consumption and that I blamed them, had abandoned them .

They died a year later, and I learned then that they had almost nothing to their names.

Their lavish lifestyles had been propped up on nothing.

Evidently, my marriage to Miss Hurst had been expected to be the saving of us all.

" He shook his head, putting that away. “I had a little money of my own, but Juliet's pregnancy was difficult.

I spent most of what I had on her, and gambled to replace it.

I'm a fair gambler," he admitted. "Not stricken with the urge for it, which makes it easier to walk away when the cards are against you. So we managed, until?—"

He wet his lips and returned his regard to the window, finding, Claire thought, safety in speaking to it rather than herself.

"The birth was hard. She died and the doctor cut the second child out of her.

I had…no manner of caring for them. No prospects, no family, no fortune.

I found Miss Beacham and put the children into her care, with all the support I could offer.

I've spent the greater part of the past four years at one kind of trade or another, making what coin I could, and seeing them as often as possible.

I have finally put a little—a little!—away, from gaming.

I've made enough to dress well, enough to remind old friends that I still live.

I hoped enough time had passed that people would have forgotten.

You know how they do," he said more softly.

“One departs in shame for some time, then returns without speaking of it, and all is, if not precisely forgotten, at least bypassed.

And perhaps they might allow the past to rest, were it not for Miss Hurst."

"You can hardly blame her, Mr Graham."

Surprise darkened the color of his eyes. "No. No, of course not. But it seems the old passions still run high. Pris—Miss Hurst was never shy about showing emotion."

Claire thought of the other woman's cool reserve and thought she must have been much changed, at least on the surface, by Graham's departure, though it did seem he brought out a tendency toward high emotion in her. "So why did you return, Mr Graham?"

"I was perfectly frank with you the night we met, Miss Dalton. I hope for nothing more than to make a modest marriage. I only left out that I also hope to be able to take my sister's children from that wretched school and raise them in a caring home."

"So you hope to marry a woman who could agree to that," Claire murmured.

Graham's expression collapsed. "It's too much to ask, I know, but I do hope. I dream of marriage to a woman of such stature that she can ignore convention and do as she likes, but such ladies are beyond my reach. What am I to do?"

"I don't know." Claire leaned forward to press her hand on top of his.

"I don't know, Mr Graham, but I admire you deeply for your commitment to your sister's children.

You are a man of integrity and honor and I dearly hope that this may all be resolved in a suitable fashion.

I will do everything I can to help you, I promise. The children must be looked after."

"You are entirely too kind, Miss Dalton. I think I should disengage from our friendship, for fear of contaminating you with my own woes." Graham glanced out the window and, following his gaze, Claire saw that they were nearly at the Daltons' residence. "I believe this should be our last encounter."

"Oh, no! Not when we have agreed already to be fast friends!

No, Mr Graham, that would not do at all.

" The carriage rolled to a stop and Worthington himself opened the door for them.

Graham disembarked first, then offered a hand to Claire, who stepped out with a smile for him.

"Thank you, Mr Graham. I insist that we must see one another again.

I cannot abide not knowing the end of this story. I am positive it will turn out well."

"Miss Dalton," Graham said, which was neither an agreement nor a disagreement, and on that note, departed.