“Though I should warn you.” Miss Bennett placed her hand on his sleeve, sending a delicious shiver up his arm and across his shoulders. “The mere mention of merriment will send Miss Mason-Jones into a fit of hysterics.” She glanced at the door. “Might I trust you to keep a secret?”
After all that had happened last night, he was surprised she asked. “As we already share many secrets, Miss Bennett, you must know you can tell me anything.”
The lady bit down on her bottom lip—an attractive action that tugged at the muscles in his abdomen. “Miss Mason-Jones is in love with Mr Bellham. I suppose I should say was, but his death doesn’t change how she feels.”
“In love with Bellham?” Hugo experienced not the slightest disappointment at the news. “Then why the devil did she come to Wollaston and partake in this debacle?”
“Her mother insisted, although was too ill to make the journey. As you already know, your mother agreed to act as her chaperone.” Miss Bennett leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of an exotic scent, unlike anything he had smelled before. “Indeed, Mr Bellham made it quite clear that he had no intention of marrying Miss Mason-Jones, or anyone else for that matter.”
Hugo inhaled again and noted a hint of jasmine.
“From your sharp intake of breath, it is clear you suspect the worst,” she continued.
“What is that intoxicating perfume, Miss Bennett? I smell jasmine but cannot distinguish the other notes.”
Miss Bennett blinked. “My perfume?” She sniffed her wrist as if she had forgotten she even wore a scent. “Oh, it is jasmine, with citrus and a hint of some spice. It’s from Atkinsons, a gift from my grandfather.”
“It’s unusual and highly intriguing.” The aroma made a man want to press his lips to the column of her throat and nip the delicate skin. “Unique.”
She nodded. “Montague finds it amusing to tease me. He said jasmine is the flower of love and passion.” She laughed. ?
?It is supposed to render the wearer irresistible.”
And Lord Forsyth was not wrong.
“Indeed.” Hugo blinked himself out of another erotic daydream. “Do you often refer to your grandfather by his given name?”
“I’m afraid he is rather unconventional and insists upon it.” She stared at him, no doubt waiting for a response to her earlier remark.
“Forgive me, what did you say about expecting the worst?”
She shuffled forward, and this time their knees did touch. “Mr Bellham gave Miss Mason-Jones every reason to believe he would offer for her, if you take my meaning.”
Purely because he wished to prolong this intimate tête-à-tête, he said, “He made certain promises?” Bellham’s only promises were spoken in the bedchamber.
A blush stained Miss Bennett’s cheeks. “I suppose you want me to spell it out. You are just as provoking as my grandfather. Mr Bellham bedded her, and she came here hoping for more of the same.”
Her frankness made him want to kiss her. “With the intention of persuading him to marry?”
“Of course. While I’ve heard it said many times that a lady finds pleasure in a gentleman’s bed, Miss Mason-Jones doesn’t strike me as the rampant sort.”
“Rampant?” Hugo couldn’t help but laugh. No woman would dare speak so openly in his company. Indeed, a man might find himself a little in love with anyone who did.
“This conversation is highly inappropriate, I know.”
“Yes, but highly informative. You have discovered Miss Mason-Jones’ motive for murder.”
Miss Bennett’s eyes grew wide. “A murder of passion? No. I cannot believe it. Indeed, you must not repeat what I’ve told you to a single soul. Not even Sir Ellis.”
“You have my word.”
Silence descended.
No doubt her mind conjured images of Miss Mason-Jones as a beast in the guise of a timid mouse. But he didn’t care. He could sit comfortably with Miss Bennett despite the lack of conversation.
“There is something else,” she eventually said. “It’s utterly ludicrous, but I cannot keep it to myself a moment longer.”
Intrigued, he straightened. “Then don’t.”