Considering how aware she was of Wylde’s presence, she’d thought the journey would be awkward, but they’d settled into a companionable silence. Mama and Juliet always seemed to feel the need to fill every minute of a journey with chatter, but he seemed content to gaze out of the window and savor the view. Every so often, he would point something out to her—like a woman in a ridiculously oversized bonnet battling against the wind—and they would share a smile. The tension that always seemed to fizz between them was still present, but it was layered with an odd sense of easy contentment. She felt as if they were becoming friends, and yet she knew so very little about him.

“Tell me about your family,” she said suddenly.

His muscles tensed, and she cursed herself for ruining the convivial atmosphere, but then he shrugged.

“There’s not much to tell. My parents had a classic marriage of convenience. I have an older brother, John, eighteen months my senior. Not long after I was born, my mother declared that she hated the country. She promptly decamped to the London town house, where she lived quite separate from my father until she died a few years ago. John and I grew up on the estate, and since Father paid us very little attention until we were old enough to play a decent hand of cards, we were left to a succession of nannies, nursemaids, and tutors.”

He glanced up and must have seen the pitying look on her face because he sent her a reassuring grin. “It was an idyllic childhood, truly. Those nannies and tutors were easy to escape. John and I spent much of our time romping in the fields and woods on the estate, riding, fishing, and swimming.”

Georgie frowned down at her hands. “That’s so different to my own experience. It sounds as though your parents had nothing in common, as if they barely tolerated one another, whereas my parents’ marriage was a love match. Mother was devastated when Father died so suddenly.”

Georgie quelled a sad little smile. It seemed both their parents’ marriages were cautionary tales; her own parents’ against the risk of loving and potentially losing, his about marrying with no love on either side.

Benedict nodded. “My parents didn’t dislike one another, per se, it’s just that they had different interests, different lives. They stayed on friendly terms—at least until the extent of father’s gambling losses became apparent.” A shadow crossed his face. “I was away in Portugal when everything came to a head, but Mother died just before he lost the London house in a game of whist. Things got worse after that. Father refused to stop gambling. When he died, only a year later, there was nothing left except that which was entailed.”

“Is that why you need money?” Georgie asked quietly. “To help your brother repay your father’s debts?”