Page 14

Chapter

Fourteen

A ngelica slipped into Lord Benedict's arms as if she were meant to be there, a perfect coupling of minds and hearts. Very well, she may have been reading into their near-kiss more than she should, but even now, stepping into the waltz, she could not help but sense this was where she belonged.

Her last dance with Lord Jermyn had not ignited any spark of joy or thrill. His conversation had been dry, and his opinions so at odds with hers that she knew she would never dance with him again—nor consider him a candidate for marriage.

"You look much better, my lord. It is good to see you're able to dance without the effect of your injury." She watched him closely, noticing his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

He seemed distracted, his eyes following a movement across the room, or perhaps he stared into nothing, lost in his thoughts.

She fought the urge to glance behind and see what he was looking at, or maybe he simply did not wish to look at her. That thought gave her pause, and she could not help but wonder if he was resisting the feelings that she certainly experienced whenever around him.

"My leg is a little stiff and painful at times, but I'm well on the way to being back to my normal self.

" He paused, finally meeting her eyes. "You do not know how much I appreciate you and all that you and your family have done.

I'm glad we're able to dance this evening.

I suppose it is in a small way payment for your services. "

His tone was sincere, yet uncertain, his brow drawn with unease.

"Lord Benedict, you do not owe us anything. We would have fought for any person's life had they been in your situation. I hope that our dance this evening is not so much in payment for my care, but because you wish to dance with me."

His mouth opened and closed several times. Was he struggling to find the right words? Certainly, his last ones had not landed well.

"Of course I wish to dance with you, but…

" He frowned, his gaze briefly dipping to her lips.

"I do not think it is right for me—for us, to continue to see each other, Lady Angelica.

I've been set on my path toward the church for some time now, and I do not wish to stray.

I hope you understand and that we can remain friends. "

There was a flicker of pain in his expression, and though his voice was calm, tension coiled beneath every word.

Everything within Angelica tensed. She struggled to breathe past the sharp tightness in her chest. "May I speak plainly, my lord? And while I do not wish to offend, I must say what I know and believe."

"Of course." He watched her, the muscles under her fingers tensing rigid.

"I've never been the kind of child, or now woman, who pretends to feel or say things I do not mean. I pride myself on honesty. And so, with that in mind, I must tell you—whenever I'm around you, Lord Benedict, something happens within me that I cannot explain. Nor do I wish to change it."

His eyes widened. His frame, already tense, became immobile under her hand.

"I like you, Lord Benedict. More than a friend.

Beyond that I do not know. But if you were open to courtship, I would not say no to your wooing.

" She paused, her voice low. "I know now that you do not feel the same and that my emotions are not returned, and while I'm saddened, I cannot blame you. You are faultless in this. I knew, from our very first words, that you intended to join the church. My attachment was foolish. I only hope what I’ve said does not make our time together awkward, and that we may still see each other socially. "

Around them, violins swelled as the orchestra reached its crescendo. The scent of beeswax candles and crushed roses and her hopes permeated the air.

His hold on her tightened.

For a fleeting moment, she thought he’d changed his mind. That her words had reached his heart. That he might drop to his knees and beg her for a chance.

"You are the sweetest, kindest woman I've ever met, and I am honored by your words. Of course, I wish to remain your friend. Always."

Angelica nodded and swallowed the ache in her burning throat. She would not cry. There were other men who would make her feel the way Lord Benedict did.

Surely there were.

"Excuse me, my lord," she whispered, and without another word, fled the dancefloor.

She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the music, the heat, the crush of chatter and laughter, searching for solitude. She longed to scream—or perhaps simply disappear.

Angelica stumbled through the terrace doors. The night was cool and still. Other guests mingled along the balustrade, but she slipped into the shadows, around the corner, unseen.

She found a stone bench tucked beneath a rose arbor and slumped onto it. The moon glowed bright above, casting silver over manicured hedges and gravel paths.

The air was thick with the perfume of roses, damp grass, and the faint scent of orange blossoms drifting from a nearby bush.

"Lady Angelica?"

Lord Benedict’s voice startled her and she gasped. "My lord, you frightened me."

She didn’t rise, merely watched him through eyes suspiciously blurry, hoping he would leave before he saw her cry like a child.

She swiped at her cheek, pretending a gnat had landed on her skin.

He came and sat beside her, taking her gloved hand in his, entwining their fingers. "I struggle with what’s happening between us too," he said softly, staring out into the moonlit garden.

She turned to him, her heartbeat an erratic flutter beneath her bodice.

"At times, I do not know what I want or which path is the right one. I've never doubted before—not once in all my eight and twenty years—until I woke to find an angel hovering over me, saving my life."

She chuckled through the tears, shaking her head. "That may be a bit dramatic, but I can't lie, it makes my heart leap."

He flipped her hand over, resting it atop his knee. Their gloved hands touched, but the heat between their bodies was unmistakable.

"To abandon what I believed was my calling now feels wrong. But the thought of you walking away, of marrying someone else… It makes me want to tear away the very skin that masks my body."

"Lord Benedict," she said gently. "I think it’s honorable, joining the church. But did you ever try to court a lady before making that decision? Have you ever kissed a woman?"

His brow furrowed, pain flickering behind his eyes. "I’ve never been good with women. Awkward, embarrassed…awkward. But you… With you, I can speak freely. I can breathe. And no, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more than I want to kiss you."

She blinked. Kiss her? Had he truly said such a wonderous thing? "You do? I thought I was the only one so affected. You hide your emotions behind such a well-built mask."

"You were right. We almost kissed in Hampshire. Or rather, I almost kissed you and then that day in the garden, where I took liberties I should not have. You do not know how I have suffered with want of you, with the guilt of wanting you."

"Why did you stop? I would not have denied you anything.”

He sighed. "Fear of rejection, of having to reevaluate everything. My life has been clear, my path decided. Until you."

"And I unsettled you?"

"You did. And now I don’t know what to do."

Angelica leaned closer. "Then perhaps you should kiss me now… and we can discuss the consequences and the effects of that kiss later."

He hesitated for one heartbeat. Then his hand rose, cupping her cheek. She leaned into the warmth of his palm, her breath catching.

He dipped his head and her heart sang. Finally his lips would touch hers. The longing that tore through her was overwhelming and sweet as she waited for what was to come next.

Her first kiss.