A Question of Class (9 page)

“Mrs. Delcour!”

Catherine turned around. She didn’t recognize any of the faces in the crowd. Only when she heard her name called a second time did she realize the voice came from her carriage, standing a few paces behind her in the street. Mr. Thomas jumped down, strode over and, without ceremony, lifted her up and placed her inside.

7

The moment the carriage moved forward, Catherine leaped on Benjamin with a frenzy of punches. Her embarrassment at being swept off the street turned to anger. “How dare you manhandle me in that way. You will never, ever touch me like that again.”

The carriage swayed and she fell hard on top of him. She didn’t care she was almost straddling the man, and let out her fury with her fists. She was livid with Morris and Percy for making a fool of her, and with herself for thinking either man would treat her with dignity. And now here was yet another male trying to subdue and control her. A blinding rage surged through her, one she’d never let loose before, and her blows rained down on Benjamin. At first he blocked them but she was too quick and squirmed out of his grasp. Finally, as she tired, he grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides. She panted from a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

She was still straddling him in the most unladylike fashion, her hair had come undone and she was breathing hard. But Catherine didn’t care anymore about being ladylike. If she was no better than a scullery maid, she might as well act like one and stop putting on these silly airs.

“Are you finished?” He lifted her off his lap and placed her on the seat beside him. The sound of the rain on the roof grew louder.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I had a feeling I’d find you wherever Percy Bonneville was.”

“Percy.” She averted her eyes. “Yes.”

“And how did your tete-a-tete go?” Benjamin didn’t seem to be teasing her. He seemed interested.

“Not well, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, it appears I am on my own.”

“I’m sorry.”

Catherine had held her head high this past year, through the snubs and Morris’s tirades and now Percy’s proposition. The sympathetic tone of Benjamin’s voice broke her spirit completely. No one had cared for her, and no one would care what happened to her. This unexpected act of kindness, particularly when she’d just been attempting to beat him senseless, overwhelmed her and she wept.

Benjamin held out his handkerchief.

“Please, put down the curtains,” she said through her tears. “I can’t bear for anyone to see me like this.”

He closed the curtain next to him, and then reached across and drew the other one. His face was inches away and she noticed his eyes were a greenish brown, surrounded by thick lashes. Her breathing quickened, and she sensed his breath was short as well. Neither moved for a second, and a thrill went through her body. She pressed her mouth to his.

His lips tasted salty and warm, and she opened her mouth, welcoming his tongue. He grabbed her and lifted her back onto his lap. Catherine ran her fingers roughly through his hair. She had never wanted a man so badly.

“We should stop this right now,” he whispered.

The rain beat down even harder, blocking out any of the sounds of the street. Catherine pulled the top of her dress down, exposing one breast to the air.

Benjamin dropped his head back. “No.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair and made him look at her. He drew his fingertip around her nipple, making her gasp with longing, before taking the nub between his finger and thumb. She arched her back so he could reach her breast with his mouth. It was a kind of exquisite pain, as he teased her and sucked the nipple until it became hard and tight. He pulled back and covered her entire breast with his hand.

“You’re beautiful.”

Benjamin’s quiet strength made her want to possess him, and be possessed by him. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it drove her crazy and intrigued her. She wanted to know him, and be touched by him. She’d never felt this with Morris. And certainly never with Percy, who had lunged at her with a surprising lack of grace.

But this was a sweet anticipation. Catherine moved against his body. She hated having so many layers of skirts between them, and wished dearly she could lie down and feel nothing but his skin against her own.

Benjamin’s hardness beneath his breeches pressed against her. She touched it with her hand and he groaned in response. She pushed her pelvis into his. His body was strong and muscular and she grabbed his shoulders. The pleasure was building up. He placed his hands on her hips and wet his lips.

The carriage came to a stop. She scrambled off Benjamin and landed with a thud on the seat beside him, straightening her dress as the footman opened the door of the carriage.

“This way, my lady,” said the footman, holding out his hand.

Catherine glanced over at Benjamin. “We’re here.”

In response, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Catherine desperately wanted to climb on top of him again. Instead, she allowed herself to be led out of the carriage and up the townhouse stairs, her legs quaking with desire.

* * * *

Benjamin sat for a moment in the carriage, recovering. Catherine was not only beautiful, but she was also impulsive. There was something about her eyes and manner that was different from any other woman he’d met. She didn’t sit back and let the world pass by and admire her. Instead, she took an active role in her own life, whatever mess she made of it. He wondered how she’d ever ended up with a man like Delcour. And where she came from.

He’d been suppressing his attraction to her since the evening they’d first met, and it had built up in a dangerous way. When Catherine had set upon him with anger in the carriage, he hadn’t been able to help his reaction to her proximity and her passion, and the fact he couldn’t control himself shocked him to the core.

Benjamin walked in the front door. The day’s mail lay in a heap on the rug, and Catherine and Mrs. Daggett were at each other’s throats. Catherine held a letter in her hand.

“Why would you hide this from me?” Her hand was shaking.

“I was only acting on Mr. Delcour’s orders,” said Mrs. Daggett. “He told me to pass any of your correspondence on to him.”

“But how could you?” Catherine asked. “Were there more?” She advanced toward Mrs. Daggett, and Benjamin stepped in front of her.

“I’m sure Mrs. Daggett meant no harm. As she said, she was only following orders.”

Catherine stared at him as if he had spoken in tongues. “You have no idea.” She turned and ran up the stairs to her room.

Benjamin helped Mrs. Daggett pick up the rest of the mail. “I assume it was from Percy Bonneville?” he asked.

Mrs. Daggett didn’t answer for a moment. “Not exactly.”

She left before he could inquire further. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise him if Catherine had more than one paramour. Delcour hinted at it during their first meeting. Benjamin should’ve taken the letter from Catherine there and then, but he was still reeling from the carriage ride, and with Mrs. Daggett watching, he hadn’t been able to make any kind of demand of Catherine. He had to remember he was dealing with a woman who was not to be trusted. Even though Benjamin was wildly attracted to Catherine, it was imperative he put a stop to his desires.

* * * *

That evening, Mrs. Daggett had the night off, and she’d set some cheese on the sideboard for Benjamin and Catherine, along with a platter of cold meat in a jellied sauce. Benjamin filled his plate and sat at the dining room table, and watched as Catherine did the same. She seemed preoccupied and edgy, and poured a large glass of wine. He took a bite of the meat and almost gagged.

“For God’s sake.” He spit the gristle into his napkin. “Is that woman trying to poison us?”

Catherine pushed her own plate aside. “Wait until she serves you her omelet one morning. I’m not sure what’s in it, but the smell alone is frightful.”

Benjamin rose and threw his napkin on the table. “Follow me.”

He picked up their glasses of wine and marched down to the kitchen, Catherine trailing behind him. A couple of maids were scouring pots in the washbasin, and he sent them off to clear the dining room. The kitchen was small but well equipped, with a large Dutch oven in the fireplace and a half-dozen iron pots hanging nearby. Benjamin placed their wine glasses on a small table near the window.

He dug through the icebox and pulled out some roast beef, then selected parsnips and beans from the pantry. He found a large knife and began chopping the parsnips. Catherine joined him, efficiently snapped off the ends of the beans. He handed her a slab of butter and sliced the roast beef while she sautéed the vegetables, neither of them speaking. It occurred to him that she seemed more at home in the kitchen than in any other part of the house.
 

Working side by side made it easier for him to address the subject that hung uneasily in the air between them. While he spoke, he focused his attention on the blade of the knife as it slid through the meat. “I’m sorry for my earlier conduct. My behavior was untoward.”

She didn’t look up. “I prefer we not speak of it again. Please hand me two plates.”
 

Benjamin did as he was told. Once they were seated, he waited for her to take the first bite. Her reaction made him smile.

“This is quite a step up from jellied meat.” She gave him a gleeful look and took another sip of wine. “Mrs. Daggett will be irate when she sees what we’ve done. She hates when I come into the kitchen.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could stomach another one of her meals. How does Mr. Delcour stand it?”

“He keeps Mrs. Daggett around because none other than John Astor recommended her. My husband brags about her to everyone, saying Astor insisted he take her on. My guess is Astor was desperate to get rid of the woman. And where did you learn to cook? At sea?”

“At sea, and also in France.”

“The food tastes differently in France. Here everything seems stale in comparison.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Not many ladies would step into the kitchen willingly.”

“I got to know the inner workings of a kitchen quite well when I was a young girl. After my mother died and my father disappeared, my sister and I were made wards of a strict couple, the Allens. Mrs. Allen fussed over my sister, as she was only a baby, but I was put to work as their scullery maid.”

“Where was this?”

“In Bridgeport, Connecticut. Up the coast.”

“I take it the Allens weren’t very kind,” he said.

“They were strict and religious. But I learned how to take care of myself.”

Benjamin was surprised how forthcoming she was. Perhaps it was because they were no longer in the stuffy parlor or dining room, and she felt safer and more comfortable in the back rooms of the house. Or maybe it was the effect of the wine. He could use this to his advantage.

“And how did you end up in France with Mr. Delcour?” He asked, pouring more wine into her glass.

She grimaced. “Mr. Allen owned a schooner in the foreign trade, and Mr. Delcour visited the Allens whenever he docked at the port. One morning, Mrs. Allen informed me I would be working for Mr. Delcour in France, where he was headed. I kissed my sister goodbye in her bed while she was sleeping and left. Mr. Delcour married me during the voyage to France.” Her voice grew tight. “But that’s all gone and done with. Tell me more about his first wife, your sister.”

Her question was unexpected. “You have quite an interest in Dolly. Why?”

“Because, like me, she doesn’t seem the type to have married Mr. Delcour.”

Benjamin pictured his sister on her wedding day, sitting in front of her mirror and solemnly pinning on her veil. “There weren’t many eligible men in Haiti. And my parents needed her to make a good match.”

“They needed Mr. Delcour’s money?”

“Yes. He bought out many of the other plantation owners. He was shrewd. My parents were in debt to him.”

“He is awfully smart at getting what he wants. Were you close with Dolly?”

Benjamin smiled. “We were close. But because of the age difference, she was more like a maternal figure to me.”

“My sister and I were the reverse. She’s eleven years younger, so she was only a baby when I left. Now she’d be nine.”