She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Ugh. I can’t believe Josiah tried to kiss me.”

Blood pounded in his temples. “How can you be so naive?”

She frowned, and he bit back what he’d been about to say: Of course your cousin wants to screw you. Any man with eyes would want to.

I want to.

He took a step toward her and caught her wrist. In a quick, practiced move, he twisted her arm back and up, and squeezed. She dropped the knife with a soft cry of dismay, and he let her go, ignoring the glare she sent him. “See? Lucky for you, I have more honor than your cousin.”

Bloody foolish woman, to put herself in such a dangerous position.

If she was humiliated by how easily he’d disarmed her, she didn’t show it. She huffed out an indignant breath. “Josiah doesn’t want me. He only wants my money because he’s gambled his own away.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I should just give him a lump sum, so he’ll leave me alone.”

Benedict ground his teeth. “You are not to give that cockroach a penny, do you hear me? He’s a grown man. He can make his own way in the world, just like everyone else. Christ, I saw men lose limbs in the war. They’re back here now, making lives for themselves.” He shook his head in silent fury. “Your cousin has no idea how lucky he is. He could work, as you do, instead of drinking and gambling his days away.”

He glared down at her. “And why do you always think you have to buy your way out of any problem, hmm?”

She lowered her chin and stared at his chest. “Because it’s the only way I know.”

Her defeated tone made something in his chest twinge uncomfortably.

“Father always wanted me to marry a man like himself.” She sighed. “A man with drive, with his own money. So whenever someone offered for me, he made it clear that any husband of mine would only receive an annual income of a thousand pounds. The rest would remain under my control.” She gave a small, wry smile. “However much those men professed to love me, when it came right down to it, none of them would agree to that. My money is the most compelling thing about me.”

She was wrong. There was so much more to her than her fortune. Benedict was about to tell her so, but then she looked up into his face. Her eyes were huge in the dim light, her face pale. He’d seen that same look on the faces of raw recruits after their first taste of battle—delayed shock.

He was an idiot. Scolding her, frightening her with his strength when he should be offering comfort and reassurance. He opened his arms. “Oh, come here. It’s all right.”