Ben liked that she thought he looked like his mother. He didn’t hear it enough, at least not as much as he would have liked. He might have had his father’s build, the same cut of his jaw and his inscrutable nose, but his mother’s distant Romani heritage held strong. He had her dark hair and the same warm complexion.
“My father doted on her when she was alive.” Ben slid his gaze from the portrait to Remi, focusing on the curve of her ear and the way she tucked her hair behind it. “I suppose that’s one thing we have in common.”
“What’s that?” Remi chuckled lightly.
Ben smirked, raking a hand through his hair. He held her gaze with purpose as he spoke. “He and I are perilously drawn to beautiful things.”
A light blush crept across Remi’s pale cheeks.
She shied away, turning her face into her shoulder. “You tease me too much.”
“Perhaps I do.”
“But I don’t hate it,” she admitted, her ears red.
“Then prepare yourself.” His voice deepened. “I shall find every opportunity to do so more often.”
“I won’t make it easy.”
“I don’t expect you will,” Ben hummed, pleased by her feisty reply. He enjoyed the thought of teasing her more. It stoked a fire in him that he felt when they kissed. Though he was more than satisfied by the image of her flushed cheeks, he would not mind if his teasing led to more fevered kisses in the middle of the night.
“I wish for us to be friends again.” Remi yawned as she curled up in her chair.
Ben snuck a glance at the grandfather clock, suddenly realizing how late it was. He moved to fetch her a blanket from a chest pushed away in a corner.
“Friends,” he repeated, draping the blanket across her body.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Her eyes were heavy with more than sleep. It undid him in a small way to see her so hopeful, yet sad.
“Would that make you happy?”
“Yes. It would please me greatly.” She nodded, her eyes fluttering.
“Then we are friends, Remi.” He didn’t realize until then how much he missed her friendship. The years lay between them, but he knew it would be easy to pick up where they’d left off.
After a beat, the sound of rain pattering against the windows of the study pulled Ben’s attention back to the present. A smile lifted Remi’s pink lips just before she dozed off. She was the picture of comfort as she cozied her chin to her chest, sinking into the seat cushion. It was sweet how easily she faded, and he was afraid to wake her.
I guess then, he glanced up at the portrait of his mother, you and I will be watching over her tonight.
Ben returned to his father’s desk and continued his search among old papers to the rise and fall of her soft breathing until his eyes, too, felt heavy.
BLOATED
BEN
Two hours after he’d collapsed into bed, Ben woke up in terrible pain.
Spending most of the night in his father’s study proved to be a terrible decision. His back and buttocks ached; he immediately blamed the stiff chair and its poor stuffing. After Remi dozed off into a peaceful slumber, he followed, woken a short time later by a loud popping from the fire in the hearth. Carrying Remi to bed after that might have made it worse, but she was light and easy to carry, and after her story, he felt the weight of his burdened heart lift.
She was telling the truth; he should have recognized that sooner.
“Knock, knock,” Jacques announced loudly, barging into the room with a steaming mug and small plate.
Ben narrowed his eyes as he positioned himself upright.
“You look like shit.” Jacques passed the mug to Ben. “You’ve looked better after binge drinking all night at the bordello. What happened?”
“I went to my father’s study,” Ben said as he took his first sip of the hot drink, grateful for the energy it might reward him, “and found nothing of value.”
“Nothing?”
“There were a few receipts that piqued my interest, but they were small in nature.” Ben finished the croissant in one bite and drank the coffee down quickly, unaffected by the heat. “I want to visit the lawyer this morning.”
“Shall I accompany you?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I’ll bring the carriage around,” Jacques said as he left.
Ben tidied himself quickly, exchanging his wrinkled garments for a freshly pressed shirt, and arranged a silk ascot around his neck. After a sharp pull of his hand through tangled hair, he slipped on his boots and grabbed his frock coat before bounding down the stairs to the foyer.
The morning air was frigid from the rain, and Ben could see his breath as he raced toward the waiting carriage.
“What’s this about then?” Jacques asked as Ben swung himself up into the seat next to him. He nudged the horses, and they started down the gravel road to the hill. “What did your findings prove?”
“We’re nearly penniless,” Ben stated, popping his collar to cover his ears. “Land rich, of course, but the money has all but dried up. There is some money from previous arrangements with my cousins, but nothing else. No more than what is necessary to keep up the house. ”
“Does Madame know?”
