Page 26

Chapter

Twenty-Six

B enedict sat in his carriage for an hour, watching the guests arrive at Lord and Lady Groose’s ball. He didn't move, merely watched and fought with his inner voice, telling him to go, to see Angelica, to hold her in his arms once more.

After this afternoon he'd not repented his sins.

In fact, after his discussion with Father Ivan had not gone as the church had wished, he'd returned to his room in his brother’s grand home and wrote the appropriate letters to Rome, announcing his departure from the faith and his inability to continue his studies.

He could not continue with the church and the direction he'd been walking.

Not when he knew, to the core of his being, that he loved Angelica beyond reason.

The church wanted him to wait, to pause and give thought to his decision, but he could not, nor did he wish to.

He loved her and would marry her and be damned anyone, including Father Ivan, who tried to disapprove her affection and make it appear shallow and weak.

There was nothing weak about his angel and she was far from shallow.

She was perfection itself.

Still, with these thoughts running through his mind, he could not make himself leave the carriage.

Nerves stilled his progress and the thought of asking Lord St. George for permission to marry his sister-in-law wasn’t a small thing.

What if St. George said no? What if he had to steal Angelica away and marry her in secret?

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the absurd thoughts brought on after the trying morning he’d endured. St. George would approve the marriage, and Angelica had already said yes. There was no reason to be concerned, all would be well.

Just as he was about to leave the equipage, the carriage door flew open and his brother's face appeared before him. He climbed in and sat, staring at him, a light sheen of sweat over his brother’s brow.

"What are you doing in here, Benedict? Scared to dance or is there another, prettier, female reason you're dallying here across the road from the ball?"

He rolled his eyes and looked toward the house he was supposed to already be inside of, enjoying his time with Angelica. "I ah…well, something has happened, and I suppose I ought to inform you of it."

His brother smirked and crossed his arms, leaning back against the squabs. "Do tell. This does sound salacious."

"You cannot say anything loathsome like you usually do, or I will never confide in you again, do you understand and agree?" he said, holding his brother's gaze and hoping he understood he meant what he said.

His brother made a sign of the cross over his chest and nodded. "I will not say a word, or laugh or tease, I promise you."

Benedict sighed, not believing that for a moment. "Lady Angelica and I…well, for the past week or so we’ve become quite close, intimately near in fact, and well…"

His brother leaned forward, his mouth gaping. "And well what, Benedict?"

Benedict swallowed and took a fortifying breath, fighting off the memory of just how deliciously near they had been.

"I’m leaving the church and halting my lessons to enter the Catholic faith.

I have sinned, in the most wonderful way, and there is no other choice, not that there ever was one, not after meeting Angelica. ”

“You’ve slept with her, have you not?” His brother made a whistling sound, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Well, well, well. Good for you, little brother. You have finally worked out what that stick between your legs is for.” Whitmore laughed and Benedict debated throwing a hearty uppercut to his sibling's jaw. "Did you like it? Did she?"

Benedict pursed his lips. "Do be serious. And yes, she enjoyed my touch as much as I enjoyed hers, but that is beside the point," he quickly added. "I’ve asked her to be my wife, and I thought you ought to know she’s agreed. I merely need her family’s approval, and we will be wed."

"You should fuck her to celebrate." Whitmore smirked. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder.

"I was leaning more toward dancing with her this evening, but thanks for the suggestion none the less."

"I would recommend fucking, much more fun, but I digress." His brother leaned forward. "I’ll be pleased to welcome her into the family. She’s a lovely chit, and had I not known from the very first moment that you liked her, I may have even trifled with the minx myself.”

Benedict glared at his sibling, not finding his words the least amusing, even if said in jest. “That is not comical, Whitmore.”

Whitmore chuckled. "Now, brother, shall we attend the ball? Is there not a young lady who's waiting for you? I’m certain she’s already wondering where you are."

Benedict acquiesced and opened the door and jumped down, glad he’d told his sibling of his choices before he heard it from anyone else. His brother followed and together they entered the ballroom, standing at the threshold to take in the throng of guests.

Several ladies turned and sent coy smiles toward Whitmore, and before Benedict could say another word his brother was off, swallowed up by the crowd and no doubt in pursuit of any of those women who showed curiosity.

He stepped into the ballroom and moved through the room, searching for Angelica. He spied Lord and Lady St. George, but as for Angelica, she remained annoyingly elusive to his eyes.

For several minutes he stood alone, observing, waiting to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had not attended this evening? Perhaps he ought to go speak with Lord and Lady St. George and check that his attendance here was even warranted.

But before he could move, just like the parting of the Red Sea, so too did the crowd and he caught sight of Angelica for the first time this evening.

His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her beauty, of her laughter and wide smile, the stunning emerald empire gown that hugged her to perfection.

His fortune reverberated around in his mind that she was his and he was hers, and without thought he moved toward her, wanting to be close to her, dance with her.

Love her.

He forced his brother's crude words from his mind on how they could celebrate.

He wasn't crass and didn't need to start thinking like his sibling, whom he had started to believe was a bad influence on his normally clear-thinking mind, even if the idea did intrigue him. But that would be for another time.

"Lady Angelica, I spied you several times enter the Whitmore’s private chapel over the past few weeks.

” Benedict heard as he stepped nearer. “What was it that the saintly Lord Benedict was showing you in there?

Must have been quite interesting indeed for you to visit so often," Miss Millers said, a knowing smirk on her thin lips.

Angelica smiled, and although Benedict watched from afar, he could tell she was taken aback by the question.

"Nothing at all, unfortunately, for I'm not Catholic, so my interest waned.

Lord Benedict is very nice, but I must admit, ladies, so very boring and dull.

I think I shall never wish to visit again, unless I'm in need of a nap. "

The ladies' laughter startled him, and he frowned. Her words made little sense, for her enjoyment in his arms was far from what he believed was conducive to having a nap.

What on earth was she saying? Did she find him boring? Was he a game to her—to see if he would break his faith and fall for a woman?

Was Father Ivan right and his decision to quit the church too hasty?

"Such a handsome man however," Miss Langley mentioned, gaining nods from all the ladies present in their circle of friends. "What a shame he's going to marry the church. I do not think I could devote myself to years of prayer. How droll." They all laughed, including Lady Angelica.

"It is probably best that he does marry the church," Lady Angelica interjected, "for I do not think he would make a good husband. I believe for all his Christian beliefs, he is a fickle, spineless man who at the first test of honor would fail. That he would allow his faith to dictate what he knows to be the truth and allow others to hurt those he professes to love.”

“Well, that is a lot of insight, Lady Angelica,” Lady Mary said, silence descending on the small group of women.

Angelica met Benedict’s eyes across the ballroom and for the first time since their meeting, hers were cold. He knew in that moment, she had meant for him to hear her words, and her dagger had found it’s mark squarely in his heart.

He turned to leave, having heard enough.