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istrate for stealing her shoe clips (and Sophie didn’t for one moment think that Araminta hadn’t noticed their disappearance.)
No, it was best if he did not recognize her. It would only complicate her life, and considering that she had no source of  income, and in fact very little beyond the clothes on her back, her life did not need complications at this point.
And yet she felt unaccountably disappointed that he had not instantly known who she was.
“Is that a raindrop?” Sophie asked, eager to keep the conversation on more benign topics.
Benedict looked up. The moon was now obscured by clouds. “It didn’t look like rain when we left,” he murmured.  A fat raindrop landed on his thigh. “But I do believe you’re correct.”
She glanced at the sky. “The wind has picked up quite a bit. I hope it doesn’t storm.”
“It’s sure to storm,” he said wryly, “as we are in an open carriage. If I had taken my coach, there wouldn’t be a cloud in the sky.”
“How close are we to your cottage?”
“About half an hour away, I should think.” He frowned. “Provided we are not slowed by the rain.”
“Well, I do not mind a bit of rain,” she said gamely. “There are far worse things than getting wet.”
They both knew exactly what she was talking about.
“I don’t think I remembered to thank you,” she said, her words quiet.
Benedict turned his head sharply. By all that was holy, there was something damned familiar about her voice. But when his  eyes searched her face, all he saw was a simple housemaid. A very attractive housemaid, to be sure, but a housemaid nonetheless. No one with whom he would ever have crossed paths.
“It was nothing,” he finally said.
‘To you, perhaps. To me it was everything.” Uncomfortable with such appreciation, he just nodded and gave one of those grunts men tended to emit when they didn’t know what to say.
“It was a very brave thing you did,” she said. He grunted again.
And then the heavens opened up in earnest. It took about one minute for Benedict’s clothes to be soaked through. “I’ll get  there as quickly as I can,” he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the wind.
“Don’t worry about me!” Sophie called back, but when he looked over at her, he saw that she was huddling into herself, her arms wrapped tightly over her chest as she tried to conserve the heat of her body. “Let me give you my coat.”
She shook her head and actually laughed. “It’ll probably make me even wetter, soaked as it is.”
He nudged the horses into a faster pace, but the road was growing muddy, and the wind was whipping the rain every which way, reducing the already mediocre visibility.
Bloody hell. This was just what he needed. He’d had a head cold all last week, and he probably wasn’t completely recovered. A ride in the freezing rain would most likely set him back, and he’d spend the next month with a runny nose, watery eyes ... all those infuriating, unattractive symptoms. Of course ...
Benedict couldn’t quite contain a smile. Of course, if he were ill again, his mother couldn’t try to cajole him into attending every single party in town, all in the hopes that he would find some suitable young lady and settle down into a quiet and happy marriage.
To his credit, he always kept his eyes open, was always on the lookout for a prospective bride. He certainly wasn’t opposed  to marriage on principle. His brother Anthony and his sister Daphne had made splendidly happy matches. But Anthony’s and Daphne’s marriages were splendidly happy because they’d been smart enough to wed the right people, and Benedict was  quite certain he had not yet met the right person.
No, he thought, his mind wandering back a few years, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d once met someone ...
The lady in silver.
When he’d held her in his arms and twirled her around the balcony in her very first waltz, he’d felt something different inside,  a fluttering, tingling sensation. It should have scared the hell out of him.
But it hadn’t. It had left him breathless, excited ... and determined to have her.
But then she’d disappeared. It was as if the world were actually flat, and she’d fallen right off the edge. He’d learned nothing  in that irritating interview with Lady Penwood, and when he’d queried his friends and family, no one knew anything about a young woman wearing a silver dress.
She hadn’t arrived with anyone and she hadn’t left with anyone. For all intents and purposes, she hadn’t even existed.
He’d watched for her at every ball, party, and musicale he attended. Hell, he attended twice as many functions as usual, just  in the hopes that he’d catch a glimpse of her.
But he’d always come home disappointed.
He’d thought he would stop looking for her. He was a practical man, and he’d assumed that eventually he would simply give  up. And in some ways, he had. After a few months he found himself back in the habit of turning down more invitations than  he accepted. A few months after that, he realized that he was once again able to meet women and not automatically compare  them to her.
But he couldn’t stop himself from watching for her. He might not feel the same urgency, but whenever he attended a ball  or took a seat at a musicale, he found his eyes sweeping across the crowd, his ears straining for the lilt of her laughter.
She was out there somewhere. He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t likely to find her, and he hadn’t searched actively for over a year, but...