A Kiss Before Dawn by Kimberly Logan

inclined her head in the direction of the fireplace, where a lone figure was ensconced in an armchair close to the hearth. “Perhaps you could go say hello.”
    Peter couldn’t miss the hopeful look the countess sent him. So, Tristan was right. Deirdre was worried about the lad, as well.
    He supposed he couldn’t blame her. The brooding expression on Benji’s face was so unlike his usual cheerful countenance that Peter couldn’t help doing a double take. And if Deirdre hadn’t pointed out his presence, he never would have noticed the boy was even there, he’d been so still and silent.
    â€œOf course. I shall do so at once.” Lowering his head in a brief nod to Deirdre, Lilah, and Cullen, he turned and approached Benji where he sat with his curly blond head bent over a book, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Light from the lamp on the table next to him shone on the gilt lettering emblazoned across the cover.
    A Detailed Accounting of Life in Ancient Rome .
    Well, at least that much hadn’t changed, Peter thought with some amusement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the lad without his nose buried in a scholarly tome.
    â€œHello, Benji.” He spoke in a low tone, his gaze never wavering from the gangly young figure slumped before him. In fact, he was watching so closely that he noticed the sudden stiffening of the boy’s shoulders, the visible tightening of his fingers on the leather binding of the book.
    Finally, after a pause of a second or two, the lad looked up at him, his brown eyes blinking in an owlish manner behind the lenses of his wire-framed spectacles, his face devoid of any emotion. “Hello, Peter.”
    Always before, Benji had greeted Peter as a much-loved elder brother, with hearty slaps on the back and excited exhortations to regale him with tales of his life as a Bow Street Runner. But not this time. The lad was cool, distant…and uneasy. It was there to see in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
    Something was definitely wrong.
    Unfolding his lanky frame from the depths of the armchair, the boy set aside his book and rose to his feet, studying Peter from under lowered lashes that conveniently veiled his thoughts. “It’s been a while,” he continued in a voice that had just started to deepen into the gravelly cadences of manhood.
    â€œYes, it has. I’m sorry for that.”
    â€œI expect you’ve been busy.”
    â€œAnd it seems you’ve been too busy to write.”
    Benji gave a careless shrug in answer. “Yes, I suppose so,” he mumbled, glancing away.
    When no further explanation was offered, Peter tried again. “I’ve missed your letters.”
    â€œI’m surprised you even noticed.”
    He had to suppress a guilty wince at the boy’s words. “You know,” he began, hoping that Benji could read the sincerity on his face, “just because I get a bit caught up in my work doesn’t mean I don’t care what is going on with you. And I hope you know that if anything is wrong—anything at all—you can always talk to me.”
    The lad’s jaw set at a mutinous angle. “Who said anything was wrong?”
    â€œNo one in particular.” Peter had to tread carefully here. He certainly didn’t want Benji to resent Tristan or Deirdre for what he might interpret as their interference. “You just seem a bit…quiet.”
    â€œWell, everything is just fine. In fact, I’ve never been better.”
    â€œYou’re certain?”
    â€œOf course. Wouldn’t I say so if I wasn’t?”
    Peter didn’t believe him for a moment, but before he could say anything else, Langley appeared in the doorway to announce that dinner was served.
    As one, the others started to file out of the parlor, talking and laughing, though Deirdre cast one last concerned glance back at the two of them before she disappeared out