Page 13

Chapter

Thirteen

T he sight of Lady Angelica in the arms of Lord Jermyn ought to not affect him. What did he care if Lady Angelica or any debutante for that matter danced with a man? They were in London to find husbands, what else were they meant to do?

However, that was not the case, not even a little.

At the sight of Lady Angelica, smiling up at the earl, his body had become an unknown part of himself, tight and unyielding, his stomach in knots as if there were troubles ahead he did not know how to navigate.

Like the time when they had been boys and had to cross a swollen river at their country estate. The wood they had to crawl across moved in the churning water and would have sent both him and his brother to their certain drowning deaths had they fallen.

Just like then, he held on to nerve and fought the panic that wanted to assail him, make him take a misstep. He could not do that now. As much as he cared for Lady Angelica, the friendship needed to remain just as it was, benign.

There was no future for them, and he was certain after returning to London and attending his lessons, that his choice was correct.

Until tonight.

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the sight of Lord Jermyn speaking eagerly to Lady Angelica.

Were they getting along well? From what he'd been advised by his brother, this was the first ball for Lady Angelica, her own coming-out ball next week.

Her brother-in-law having let their plans be known at White's the other day to Whitmore.

His brother of course only too keen to listen and inform him of this news.

He'd pretended he would not care, that the news of Lady Angelica in town did not bother him, and yet, damn himself to the pits of hell, it did. At every moment that arose, he glanced out the front windows of his brother's home and looked for her across the park.

To admire her from afar for but a moment, but alas he'd not seen her, not even in Berkley Square taking the air with her maid. Not one glimpse of her coming and going from the St. George house while they prepared for the Season.

Nothing.

Until tonight.

He drank in the sight of her, hating himself for being affected by the vision of a pretty woman. It went against everything he'd thought to become, what he wanted in life and strove to achieve.

He'd never been affected by the female form, not even the many times he'd collected his brother from a brothel or gaming hell, his brother covered in women, many of them unclothed and willing to offer their services.

For years he'd thought himself immune, the perfect candidate for what he'd chosen for his career. How wrong he now seemed to be.

The dance came to an end and Lady Angelica was led back to where another young lady, the Duke and Duchess Fox’s youngest daughter stood.

"I do not wish to pry, brother, but I have the feeling your mind at present is very much muddled. A particularly beautiful debutante from Hampshire wouldn't by chance be on your mind?" Whitmore asked, leaning close to ensure privacy.

Benedict fought not to allow his attention to yet again divert across the room, but no matter what he did, he seemed constantly drawn to the angel who saved his life.

"I think I must speak with my mentor and ask for guidance.

I cannot continue in this way, being pulled in two different directions and not knowing what is the right one for me. "

"Well, not that you'll believe me, but I do think you know deep down what is the right path for you. All you have to do is reach for it."

"That is unhelpful, for that could mean either of my choices."

"As a man who's fond of female company I can assure you I do not mean the church when I speak of correct choices. In fact, I'm certain that should I set one foot in such a sacred place, I would surely burn to ash."

Benedict threw his brother a withering glance, sure that would not be the case. In any event, as much as it pained him to admit, he feared his brother may be correct in this instance.

If he could not stop thinking about Lady Angelica, looking out for her whenever the opportunity arose, maybe his choice for a life of prayer wasn’t right. Maybe he had merely been waiting to meet the right woman and had not done so.

Until now.

"The least you could do is dance with her this evening, if your leg is up to it of course. She will enjoy that I think."

"Do you think so?" he asked, having debated what Lady Angelica felt for him since their departure from Hampshire.

An endless merry-go-round of thoughts, of wants and needs haunted him, but did they plague her?

After their near-kiss in his room at her estate and then their embrace in the garden, that still to this day sent heat to course through his veins, he doubted if everything he experienced was but a dream.

"You cannot be so blind. That chit,” Whitmore said, pointing toward Lady Angelica, “practically mooned all over you in Hampshire. She was by your side and often refused to leave you from what I heard the day that I arrived."

All true, she had been the best caregiver he'd ever experienced. High praise indeed since their mother, may she rest in peace, had been loving and one of the most caring women in his life.

"Very well, I shall ask her to dance as thanks, mind, and nothing more. Please do not act as some matchmaker this evening. You know that the choices that I face are great indeed and need much consideration."

His brother held up his hands in defeat.

"I would not dare try to sway either one of you to admitting more than you already do.

In any case," his brother said. "You both already feel more for each other than you know, and it is only a matter of time before you both realize you're perfect for each other. I need do nothing at all."

"I think you're confusing emotions, dear brother.

Lady Angelica helped in saving my life, I would have bled to death had she not intervened, but that does not mean she cares for me more than a friend.

I think our gratefulness to her is being confused with emotions that are not as strong as you believe. "

"And I think," his brother said, slapping him on the shoulder.

"You're denying how she affects you. You're scared, that is all, now go," Whitmore said, nodding toward where Lady Angelica stood with her friend.

"Ask her to dance at least, and see how the Season plays out. If she affects you not at all after the dance, then I shall stop insinuating that the church is not the future you should pursue.”

Benedict sighed at his brother's words, which were not at all helpful. He broke away and started around the ballroom floor in the direction of Lady Angelica.

His height thankfully gave him the ability to keep his gaze on her, to drink in her laughter, her smile, her eyes and how they twinkled with delight when speaking to her friend.

He came before them and bowed. "Lady Mary, Lady Angelica, good evening," he said.

Both ladies dipped into curtsies, but his attention slipped and settled on to Lady Angelica and would not relent.

"Good evening, Lord Benedict," Lady Mary asked, throwing him a wide smile. "Are you enjoying the ball? Is this your first for the Season?"

"I am indeed, and yes, my first, and possibly my last." Benedict closed his mouth with a snap, unsure why he'd said what he did. With Lady Angelica attending event after event, he was certain to attend more, even if he refused to admit they were anything more but friends.

"I hope it is not your last, my lord. You promised me a dance, do you not remember?" Lady Angelica watched him and he had the feeling she could read his mind.

Dear heavens he hoped she could not.

He swallowed. "I did indeed, as thanks for your help in Hampshire and in that vein, will you do me the honor of dancing the following with me, my lady?"

She slipped her hand about his arm, clearly acquiescing to his request. "It's to be a waltz, my lord. Have you ever waltzed with a lady before?" she asked as they moved toward the ballroom floor.

He had not, and the thought of stepping on her toes and being awkward sent nerves to settle in his stomach. "I have not. Not until this night."