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“There were some very strong objections against the lady,” were Colonel Fitzwilliam’s words.

—Pride and Prejudice

BENJ DOUBLE-CHECKED his appearance in the vestibule mirror of their family townhome. His hair lay perfect as usual, his short style hardly ever allowing anything to become out of place. If only he felt as calm as his coiffure.

Today was a gamble. His purpose was twofold: to provide a unique, entertaining afternoon, and also to get Mrs. Hughes into an unusual situation.

One often learned more about the person they spied on when in such a state.

She seemed dutiful and committed to Georgiana yesterday, but he knew she still had her secrets.

He pulled out the little notebook he kept in his waistcoat pocket and reviewed the details he’d learned yesterday.

Corresponding with a man named Stockton. Secret beau? Relative?

He sincerely hoped for the latter.

Taking her job of chaperone very seriously.

Something about the teapot unsettled her—must be linked to something in her past.

Not in favor of helping Georgiana progress her relationship.

If all went well this afternoon, he’d have much more to add to the list. He had just gathered his frock coat when Matlock came down the stairs.

“Where are you off to, Benj?”

“Oh, nowhere.” He made toward the door. If only he’d left a minute earlier.

“Your gloves and jacket don’t make it seem like it’s nowhere.”

Benj hated his brother’s persistence. “I am going to Captain Derring’s residence.”

“With whom? For a party? Will there be ladies invited?” His brother looked down his aquiline nose as though he were discerning which horse to bet on.

“Come off it, Mat. Yes, there will be males and females there, of course.”

“Ah! Then, I must come.” He brushed his hands together. “I’m bored, and I need to make my way into every social event this Season. Especially since I’m going to marry.”

Benj narrowed his eyes. “Marry? You actually intend to pick only one lady? You? The thirty-eight-year-old bachelor? Are you even capable of such a thing?”

He let out a commiserate huff. “It will be difficult. But Riber Hall and the earldom need an heir.”

“You could remain single, and it could always fall to the younger brother.”

Matlock shook his head. “Not on your life.”

They’d never really had a congenial relationship. For as long as Benj could recall, Matlock was far too self-absorbed and competitive to have very many friends, least of all his little brother. Even though Benj had been wounded in war and was lucky to return home, apparently not much had changed.

“There’s no room for you in the carriage,” Benj said. “I’ve agreed to pick up three others.”

“You are too stoic, you know that, Benj? I’ll find my way to the captain’s house, then. He won’t mind another visitor, will he?”

Benj didn’t answer, knowing Matlock didn’t require one to still make an appearance. No one turned down an earl when one showed up at one’s door.

As Benj made his way to the carriage, he hoped the ride would settle his thoughts.

Why did his brother’s behavior irk him so?

It was nothing out of the ordinary. He’d stolen the last cake off the tea tray Benj’s whole life, claimed the best horse for himself, decided that every new cravat must be his since the dawn of time.

Darcy always seemed like a saint when compared to Benj’s own brother.

But if Matlock tried to pursue Mrs. Hughes . . .

Benj couldn’t ignore the way his fingers still felt when he remembered her hand in his.

He wasn’t usually so direct or flirtatious.

There hadn’t been many women he’d been interested in, but something about Mrs. Hughes intrigued him, and he felt more bold around her.

Sometimes he felt like a fish, and she was the shiny lure on the end of a fishing pole.

He wasn’t sure he should admit it, but maybe he wanted to be caught.

No, he was helping Darcy, one of his only true friends and his cousin. And taking care of their charge, Georgiana—nothing more. He wouldn’t let any feelings get in the way of his resolve. He was a military man, and he wasn’t about to go soft over some lady.

Even if he had been a romantic all his life. It was a semi-buried part of him, for a younger son of an earl didn’t have much allure.

Someone’s sweet scent of vanilla and orange filled the carriage upon collecting Lord Edling and the ladies, and Benj told himself it must be Georgiana. As the carriage rumbled toward Captain Derring’s home, Georgiana spoke first. “When will you tell us what we are doing, cousin?”

“I’m glad you asked. I want you to prepare, but only a little.”

He noticed Mrs. Hughes’s eyebrows raise, but he continued on. “Captain Derring is a purveyor of ancient artifacts, and in his last stint in Egypt, he came into possession of a mummy, among other things.”

“No!” Georgiana said, one hand clasped over her mouth. “How fascinating.”

“Well, I, for one, am quite intrigued,” Lord Edling said. “I’ve heard tell but never beheld one in the flesh—er, perhaps it’s not quite flesh, actually . . .”

Mrs. Hughes adjusted her angle ever so slightly until her gaze locked on Benj. “Do these mummies have a strong odor? We wouldn’t want anyone to feel squeamish or sick to their stomach.”

Bother. He fought the urge to tell her off right then. “I have only seen them once, but I can assure you, the smell is not so overpowering.”

She smiled. “Oh good.”

So, did this mean Mrs. Hughes would never think of him as anything more than a lily-livered ninny? Perhaps he should shift the topic and start telling war stories, just to showcase his bravery.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Lord Edling said. “We’re quite excited you chose us to accompany you.” For one brief moment, his hand squeezed Georgiana’s, and she nodded.

The timid Edling had felt comfortable enough to touch her hand? In front of all of them? And address them as “us”?

Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat, and Edling promptly stowed his hand under the outside of his thigh.

“Captain Derring is very well-connected. I’m sure he’s having several people over to see his artifacts, not just us.

” She emphasized the final word a little forcefully, making her point.

Her shrewd eyes did not seem at all pleased.

And that put pain to the rest of the carriage ride.

IT WAS THE smell of incense, not the mummy, that assailed Benj’s nose first as he stood in the large viewing room of the captain’s basement.

The carriage ride could not have ended soon enough with how tense Mrs. Hughes had made it by her pointed comments.

Apparently grateful for the added room, Georgiana and Lord Edling found separate parties to migrate toward as soon as they came down the stairs.

The candle-lit space cast interesting shadows on the stone walls despite it being midday. Several pedestals of varying heights lined the perimeter of the cavernous room, draped in a white cloth with some type of artifact, as well as a small explanation placard in front of each one.

In the center of the room, propped up on a steep angle, was the linen-wrapped mummy.

Mrs. Hughes made her way there first, and he chose to observe it from the other side—an angular coffin decorated with brightly colored paintings lining the inside walls.

The mummy itself gazed at them with its gaunt face, everything but the countenance completely swathed in what looked like stiff fabric.

One could not even make out the age of the person.

“Mrs. Hughes,” a voice said, carrying across the space. Benj looked up to see Matlock, their eyes meeting for a moment as he raised one triumphant brow before bestowing a smile on the lovely woman across from him. Of course he was already here admiring everything and everyone.

Benj tried to look interested in the mummy as he noticed the tall, impressive figure of his brother boasting another soft smile toward Mrs. Hughes. His brother’s eyes flitted between her and the coffin, taking in the living people as much as the deceased one in the room.

Turning to the side, Benj strained to hear as Matlock’s voice dropped lower. “Mrs. Hughes, do you study the mummy because you are interested in what lies beneath or because it is safe to glance upon something so shrouded?”

Benj’s gaze flicked to her eyes for a second, noticing how wide they’d gone.

She turned to face Matlock, and Benj moved around them to an artifact on the other side of the room in an attempt to hear her answer. Thank goodness there were enough other people to make his movements less obvious.

“That is a rather deep question.” Her voice was soft. “Perhaps . . . a little of both.”

A large group of people walked between him and Mrs. Hughes and Matlock.

He turned his head once more and could hear his brother respond. “Might I just say that you need not be scared of me, and you might find what lies beneath to be beneficial to you?”

Benj clamped his eyes shut. His wheedling brother.

She was beautiful and clever and a good catch, but surely he’d not marry a widow, right?

If Matlock really wanted an heir, maybe he should be worried she had no children from her first marriage.

Or, most preferably, he would just chase after some extremely wealthy, half-witted, giggling debutante.

Maybe he was just flirting with her, like he flirted with everyone.

Plus, she’d made it quite clear she didn’t wish to marry.

By the time he opened his eyes, he saw Matlock had offered his arm to Mrs. Hughes. He walked her to a more vacant and secluded part on the far side of the room.

What could he be saying to her? Never had a lady not been charmed by Matlock, and his holdings and status alone would make any woman a queen. If only he could read her face, but she backed him.

Matlock shouldn’t even be here. He, Benj, was the one who’d teased her in the hall yesterday. He was the one who had held her hand.