Page 16

Chapter

Sixteen

A ngelica returned to the ball and over the next several days she attended two dinner parties, a night at the theater, a ride in Hyde Park with Evangeline, and four balls, all of which Lord Benedict did not attend.

Of course, she should not be surprised he was not in attendance. He wasn't in London for the Season and had said that to her almost from the very first moment of their friendship, but still, after that devastatingly life-altering kiss—for her at least—she had thought she would see him again.

A fluttering flooded her stomach at the memory of the kiss, of his lips taking hers, his strong hands pulling her against him, making her body come alive for the first time in her life.

Perhaps she was being foolish and a little immature in thinking he would wish to at least speak to her regarding what had happened between them.

Of course, seeing Lord Whitmore at several events had not helped her disappointment at Lord Benedict's absence, for the brothers were similar in looks and reminded her of the other.

Still, she would not sulk for the rest of the Season. Lord Benedict had, by his absence, shown that his interest in her was not there. That he did not care if he saw her at all.

Maybe their kiss had been an act of kindness, a goodbye of sorts. That she did not know, but it was certainly not the beginning if his actions since were any indication.

So why was she standing before the side entrance of Lord Whitmore’s Berkley Square home, staring at the door into the family’s private chapel, her chest tight, her heart beating hard against her ribs?

She should not have sought out Lord Whitmore and asked for permission to visit Lord Benedict, but scandalously she had, and the knowing, wicked smirk from Lord Whitmore did not help her nerves or stop her from feeling like some desperate debutante chasing down a gentleman who did not want her.

Did he want her?

She cringed and clasped her hands in front of her person, her gaze on the brass door handle that she ought to reach for and turn.

Was Lord Benedict inside? Would he even wish to see her? After his absence in her life, a resounding no reverberated about in her mind. She turned to leave, chastising herself for being so silly, when her name was called and everything within her stilled.

"Lady Angelica, is that you?"

Lord Benedict. She closed her eyes but for a moment and reveled in the sound of his voice. It washed over her skin, prickling and teasing her senses as much as his touch had the other evening.

Angelica schooled her features and smiled before facing him.

He strode toward her, a long, black robe over his clothing, and several books cradled in the corner of his arm.

She drank in the sight of him, before despair washed through her.

He had made his choice, he was still learning to take his orders, and she would not win this battle.

She doubted in truth if she ever stood a chance.

"Lord Benedict, how lovely to see you,” she managed, thankful her voice did not yield the distress running through her heart.

“Your brother mentioned that you worshipped here, and I was passing by and thought to call.

" All lies of course, she'd practically accosted Lord Whitmore at last night’s ball, and had, in a not-too-polite way, demanded to know where Lord Benedict had been these past days.

Not to mention, did people even drop in on future priests for a social visit? She didn't think they did.

How mortifying.

Heat kissed her cheeks, and she fought not to run out onto the street and return to her sister’s home to hide.

"I've just finished some study and was heading into the church." He looked up at his brother’s home, before meeting her eyes. Something softened in his gaze and she wondered what he was thinking, what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

"Would you like a tour?” he asked. “The Catholic faith is not as accepted as it once was, and so Whitmore allows me to use this small chapel built onto the family home for my own use. There are no services penned in for this afternoon."

Angelica's mind struggled with what to do. For a heartbeat or two she debated if she ought to or not, but in truth, they did need to speak about the kiss and she needed to know for certain if he was at all debating the path set out for him.

"That would be lovely, thank you. I always find churches so peaceful. Do you not agree?" she asked, as he reached for the door to open it.

"They are indeed, and many people of all faiths often visit merely to see the exquisite architecture, which is a marvel and quite extraordinary. Although our private church is not nearly as grand as others."

"Of course." They entered through the door, the cooler air from the church kissing her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she couldn't help but wonder if God was angry at her for trying to seduce one of his flock from him.

Wooden pews lined each side of the church with an aisle separating them.

The altar was ornate yet small and looked to be crafted of marble.

Lord Benedict showed her the space, not a long tour as the church wasn’t big before they sat on one of the front pews, studying the large cross on the wall before them.

"Over to the left there,” Benedict said, “is a confessional." He gestured to the side of the church.

Angelica nodded, and glanced behind her to see if there was anyone about. "May we talk in private a moment, my lord? I feel there is much to say."

His lips thinned into a concerned line but he nodded. "Come, we shall use the confessional. No one will interrupt us there."

She followed him across the church, and he drew back the heavy velvet curtain, motioning for her to step into the small wooden booth. Inside, she sat on the cushioned seat, and he closed the curtain behind her. A moment later, his presence on the other side of the screened partition made her start.

"I think I owe you an apology, Lady Angelica. My actions the other night were not those of a gentleman, nevertheless of a man of faith. I'm sorry if I hurt you. That was not my intention."

Angelica listened and tried to keep her emotions in check, but the sound of him apologizing, of his regret, tore her in two. She liked him, far more than any others she'd met so far in London—why could he not return those feelings?

While she wanted to support his choice, be happy for him no matter whatever his choice of employment was. But if he were so very keen on being a priest, why kiss her? Why do any of the things they had if he were not certain?

"I'm not so much hurt," she lied, "but confused. Our kiss, Lord Benedict…" she sighed. "How can you expect me to think that there was no emotion or feelings behind such an experience? For either of us. That it meant nothing to you."

He was silent and she could almost feel his body coiling in on itself with tension. The screen partition gave her a partial view of his features, and as much as she tried to study him, understand his thoughts, she could not.

"There were feelings, Angelica," he said, using her given name for the first time and forgetting the honorifics.

The sound of her name on his lips sounded intimate, and far more meaningful than it ever had before.

"I will not deny—certainly not where we are now—that you make me confused and at odds with what I thought I wanted. "

She leaned closer, wanting to reach for him, to touch him, but she could not. "Is this the life you want? Will it truly satisfy you? For I do not think that is so. Not anymore."

He frowned and shook his head, confusion clouding his green eyes. "I do not know…"

"Tell me this," she said, breaking into his words.

"When we kissed, did you like it? I hope you do not feel obligated to me after our care of you in Hampshire, for I can assure you, I did not kiss you out of obligation.

I want to kiss you again—even here and now.

I've never felt so out of sorts than when I'm with you. Like my skin tingles and my breath stalls. I do not suffer those wonderful feelings with anyone else and if you feel even the slightest, smallest way the same, then I think we should act on those feelings and not ignore them." She paused. “I suppose what I’m saying, Lord Benedict, is that perhaps the church isn’t for you.”

He looked up and met her eyes. "Do you truly mean all that you say when you're around me?"

He sounded surprised, as if the notion that anyone could find him alluring was an oddity he'd not thought possible.

"You do not want to know how much I want you, Lord Benedict.

" She leaned forward, all but a breath from his lips, even if the troublesome screen separated them.

"Like now, in this quiet, dark space, alone with you, all I can think about is what I want you to do to me.

Kiss me again on the lips, neck, breast. I ache for you. "

He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. "You ache?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, very much."

He stared in stunned silence, the tension reverberating about them thick and pungent.

Angelica’s heart pounded, her breath shallow as she waited for him to move, to speak, to do anything that might tell her she hadn’t just destroyed everything between them.

But he only sat there, his lips parted, eyes stormy with a thousand unspoken thoughts.

Her shoulders wilted, and she offered a small smile, his silence speaking volumes.

“I should go,” she whispered, pushing to her feet, the hem of her gown brushing the floor. “Please do not come after me unless you mean to change everything.”

Without another word, she slipped out of the confessional, the scent of old incense clinging to her as she fled the sacred space—and the man she might very well be falling in love with.