Page 20 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

S eated at the gold vanity, Cressida stared at her reflection. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he was so distracted by his fury in finding her gone that he would fail to note the light bruise on her cheek. In the light of a new day, it would be terribly worse, but it was faint for now.

Something told her Benedict wasn’t the manner of man who missed any details, and just as she’d learned this evening, he was also a man who didn’t trust easily. He’d had her followed.

Granted, she couldn’t blame him, but it still hurt. He’d been livid when he’d arrived. Angry gentlemen, angry men, were something she was all too familiar with. The grand and greatest difference between him and the others, however, was that every other man in her life who’d been so outraged was quick to strike or grab or hit her, but Benedict hadn’t.

He’d quietly conducted a silent search of her household, saying nothing but clearly looking for the one whom she’d come to meet. He’d been as meticulous in his search as she’d been in her attempt to find Trudy earlier. The whole while he hadn’t said a word; he’d just seethed with fury and then quietly and gently ushered her out.

Cressida stared blankly at her visage. It struck her as strange. In previous meetings, she’d attended of the Mismatch Society, there’d been a time when all the ladies shared amongst one another the traits that attracted them to gentlemen. Many favored rogues with big personalities and charming smiles. They’d all appreciated a gentleman with clever wit and intelligence. Some wished for a gentleman who was skilled in the arts and possessed a love of the theater. Aside from intelligence, Cressida hadn’t had a wish for any of those other things her friends had.

For Cressida, she herself possessed a desire for a man who was calm and measured and who didn’t fly off the handle. With a mercurial brother, Cressida craved the calm, and her very soul craved that which was constant. Even if he’d wanted to strike her, Wakefield wouldn’t. Not with as honorable as he’d proven to be; even his handling of the fact that she’d been a virgin was testament to that. Cressida leaned in closer to check her cheek.

Given the nature of this room and who was supposed to possess it, there had to be something in here. Tugging out the center drawer, she searched the vanity and discovered a soft powder in a crystal jar with a silver lid.

Cressida hurriedly applied the powder over her bruised cheek, wincing as she did.

“Miss?”

Gasping, she spun.

The young maid, Nancy, whom she’d met earlier, stared at her with some concern. Fearing at how much the young woman had seen, she hurriedly put the powder away and stood.

“Yes, Nancy.”

“His lordship wanted me to see if you were on your way. He’s waiting in the morning room.”

She favored her with a wry smile.

“Do you really mean he was checking to see if I’d run off?”

The young girl’s lips twitched. “Not many would be running away from Lord Wakefield. He has quite a reputation as being a kind, good master, and he’s very generous with his servants.”

Cressida had expected nothing less. Whereas her brother treated staff like scum and close, if not worse, than how he treated Cressida. Then something the woman said reached her.

“He is in the morning room?” she asked tremulously.

“Aye, miss.”

The morning room. When she’d instructed him where to meet, never had she believed he’d actually forfeit his office for the impending exchange. And yet he had. He didn’t seek to dominate her. He didn’t—

Nancy cleared her throat. “Though his lordship referred to it as the lady of the house’s office.”

Cressida’s breath hitched.

And yet the fact remained—he’d had her followed. He might extend her every kindness, but he did not offer that greatest gift—his trust.

“Please inform his lordship I will be along shortly.”

Nancy nodded and dipped a curtsy, then hastened off.

Cressida took several more moments and composed her thoughts before heading off. When she arrived in the morning room, she discovered Benedict pacing on the Axminster carpet. The sight of his broad shoulders—shoulders big enough to carry the entire weight of the world and certainly her own problems—was so very appealing.

On his path back around, he caught sight of Cressida.

Benedict stopped. He gave her a wary once over.

“I expect you have questions,” she said.

Before he could speak, he closed his mouth. She’d apparently flustered him and wrestled control of the discussion.

Disarming had been a skill she’d had to perfect over the years in a bid for self-preservation. Never before had it proven more useful than it did right now, and that was saying something indeed.

Cressida quietly closed the door behind them. She lingered at the entryway a moment before going over to join him at the pair of elegant bergère upholstered chairs.

Benedict waited until she had claimed her seat.

“You had me followed,” she said to maintain that vantage.

“Yes.” He delivered that so plainly and succinctly, making absolutely no effort to hide it. But then why should he? He’d done nothing wrong.

“I see,” she said, folding her hands primly on her lap. “Then, going forward, should I notify a certain somebody when I’m intending to go out?”

“Can we quit this, Cressida?” he said quietly. “Can we cease pretending that you were out for a morning visit to the shops or attending the theater? It was none of those things. You were on a side of London no respectable lady would ever be caught in, let alone at the dead of night.”

His words hit more painfully than Stanley’s blow.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a tight, pained smile. “But then, given the circumstances of our meeting last evening, I think we can both agree that I’m not your typical lady.”

“No, you’re not,” he said.

She tried to find any hint of disdain or condescension, but his words were as matter of fact and composed as the lines of his harshly angular features.

“Who were you meeting there?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I was there looking for someone.”

“I gathered as much. Who were you looking to meet and did that meeting already take place?”

A meeting had—just not the one she’d wanted.

“No,” she said softly.

“I’ll ask you again. Who exactly is it you went off to meet at this—”

“She’s my old nursemaid,” she said, cutting him off. “Her employer is a miserable, abusive fellow, and I thought to rescue her and bring her back with me, figuring she’d be safe here.”

He fell back in his seat, stunned into silence.

“Your nursemaid?” he repeated slowly.

Cressida nodded. “My nursemaid.”

When he continued to say nothing…

“Her name is Trudy. Her hearing has begun to fail her. She is unable to perform her duties with the same efficiency she once did. Her fingers do not work like they used to. There’s little she can do in way of employment.”

“I will send for her.”

Wakefield responded so quick it took a moment to process what he’d said.

Cressida’s mouth moved, but no words came out. That’s it? That’s all he’d say? But apparently it wasn’t.

“I can find work for her here, Cressida. There’ll be something she can do to preserve her pride. Some work she can do in this residence.”

Her throat moved. He’d settle Trudy’s future without any questions asked, without meeting the other woman?

Cressida’s eyes closed of their own volition.

She’d always loved him, but she’d love him forever with this.

With one simple promise, he removed the chokehold Stanley had over her. He made it so Trudy could be free, and Cressida would be free to make decisions that would not impact the other woman.

On the heel of that, her hope flagged. Trudy would never leave her. The wheels of her mind churned. Perhaps if she told Trudy the separation was temporary and kept delaying their reunion—

Benedict’s grave baritone cut into her frantic thoughts. “Cressida?”

“Hmm?” She whipped her gaze to his.

“I cannot thank you enough,” she murmured. “I am eternally grateful.” Cressida balled her hands. She’d already asked for so much, taken so much, she despised asking him for more. But for Trudy, she’d humble herself. “There is but one problem, Benedict.”

When Cressida didn’t complete her thought, Benedict gently prodded her. “The problem is?”

“Her employer and his man keep her under close watch and very rarely let her go out. I believe she went looking for me. When she returns… if she returns to her employer’s house…” She detected the reedy quality of her voice.

Benedict touched her hand. “I will see to having someone stationed outside her residence.” He grimaced. “If it could be referred to so.”

The gentleman was right again.

Benedict bestowed a gentle gaze upon her face. “The moment she does return, Cressida, I’ll see she’s escorted to you. She will be safe.”

“S-Safe,” she whispered, her voice catching.

Tears filled her eyes. She hated showing him that weakness, not when he was so strong.

Before she broke down in front of him, to spare herself that indignity, she jumped quickly to her feet.

“My thanks, Benedict.”

He stood more slowly.

“You needn’t thank me for this, not for any of it,” he said with a grimace. “It is the least I could do, given the circumstances.”

Lost in her own miseries and worries as she’d been, she had failed to properly appreciate until now the very real guilt he’d taken on.

As angry and hurt as she’d been the following morning when they’d awakened and realized he had no idea who she was or what they’d done, she now recognized his anger and concern had stemmed from the fact that she hadn’t been an actual Cyprian or experienced woman, but she’d, in fact, been a virgin.

Cressida took a step closer to him.

“Benedict,” she said softly, “I don’t want you to feel guilty. You have no reason to feel shame. As I told you, I was at The Devil’s Den of my own free will.” Or at least as much of a choice as she’d had.

“I wouldn’t undo any of it, even if you would have.” She added that last part before thinking better of it.

“Is that what you believe?” he asked.

The curve of his smile made his hard lips soft and teasing.

Nervous, she dampened her mouth.

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

He took a step closer.

“The only regret I had and still have, Cressida,” he said quietly, “is that you are a respectable lady. There can’t be any more of what we shared, and it is bloody killing me.”

Even as her body swayed towards his with a longing to be in his arms, her heart hurt, but her body rejoiced in his words.

He wanted to make love to her. He just didn’t want to marry her. And as she’d always known, she wasn’t the lady he thought her to be, for she found herself going up on tiptoes and leaning in to take his mouth in a kiss that she had longed for since the last one they’d shared that morning.

He folded his arms around her, and unlike the kisses that had been almost violent, now it turned gentle and there was an equal beauty to it. Nay, maybe even more so.

He guided his lips over hers, slanting them continuously over and over again. His was a tender dance and one she was a little too happy to partner in.

Her moan was lost to his groan, and he filled his hands with her buttocks and drew her close to him. They came together as one in a fiery dance of passion. His tongue lashed against hers like an expertly wielded whip.

Breathless, her legs went out from under her, but Benedict caught her more tightly and drew her more closely against the hard ridge of his erection. He moved his mouth from hers and she cried out at the sudden loss, but he merely trailed a path of kisses down her cheek and lower, touching them everywhere to her chin, lower to her neck, and that place where her pulse was pounding wildly for him. He paused there to lightly suck and nip.

“Benedict,” she whimpered.

It was as though the sound of his name drew him, broke him from the spell. He jumped away from her like she was Medusa, about to turn him into stone.

“Forgive me,” he said tightly. “You should go. I should go. We should both go.”

Her toes curled up with the shame of his rejection. How disgusted he was by her and how eager he was to have her gone.

“Yes, of course, my lord. Yes, Benedict. I, I… Good night.”

And with that, Cressida took flight.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the safety of her rooms, and when there, she locked the door and closed her eyes.