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Chapter

Twenty-Eight

T he following week London was abuzz with the scandalous news of Lord Whitmore having dueled with Lord Cheswick.

It was all the ton could talk about. At every event that Angelica attended, people questioned the motives of the duel, wondering who it was over and if it included any of their set of the female persuasion.

Of course, Angelica could not ask Lord Benedict his thoughts for she had not seen him. Not since the night she’d let him know that she’d overheard his conversation with his priest and found his words offensive and wanting.

He could go and hang for all she cared.

And yet, each time she dismissed him from her mind she felt a pang of regret. Of despair that would not pass.

She supposed that was to be expected when one lost the person whom they thought they would marry, adore and cherish for the rest of their lives.

That it wasn’t to be with Benedict tore her in two and for several days her stomach had been unsettled, nauseous, and she’d considered more than once that perhaps she ought to give up on this Season, return home and start fresh next year.

At least she would have Isabella at her side then and they could make the Season their own and not be so anxious over becoming a wallflower.

This evening unfortunately was no different. While she was asked to dance and said yes to every gentleman as per the rules of the ton , her heart was no longer in London. Her heart no longer existed thanks to a man whom she had gifted it to and he decided to trample it into a million pieces.

“Lord Benedict has just arrived, dearest.” Her sister nudged her a little before meeting her eyes. “Speak to him this evening. I know you’re at odds with him for some reason and I wish you would tell me why.”

“He’s a cad that is why,” she seethed. “I have nothing to say to him. I’ve heard all I need to from his lying lips to know what he’s about.”

Her sister threw her a concerned frown before answering a question from Lord St. George at her side.

Angelica swiped a glass of wine from a passing footman and decided to go for a turn about the room. Anything but to keep speaking about Lord Benedict, the godly boy who was the devil's spawn.

Shame washed through her at her terminology of his lordship.

She supposed he wasn’t so very evil, but his actions had hurt her deeply and she could not fathom why he would not have defended her.

Defended their love, if it was in fact true for him.

She passed a fireplace, downed the last of her wine and left the glass on the marble mantel.

Had she been a test for him to see if marriage was the path truly for him? Had he used her to enjoy the last few weeks of his freedom before becoming celibate for life?

Without care, she pushed through the throng of guests, her destination nowhere at all. She heard her friend Lady Mary call out her name and turning about, slammed chest first into a wall of muscle.

Arms reached out and steadied her, and she didn’t need to look up to know who had stopped her from falling to the parquetry floor. Angelica slowly raised her eyes, bracing herself to face her nemesis and schooled her features to one of indifference.

She would not allow him to know how very much he hurt her. He did not get to have that right as well.

“Lady Angelica,” Lord Benedict said, letting her go and stepping back to ensure propriety.

“Lord Benedict,” she answered coolly, glancing away from him and toward the dancers who were enjoying a cotillion. Angelica fought to keep her composure, but now, beside him, anger bubbled up within her and she wanted to rail at him, score him with words and hurt him as much as he wounded her.

He did not move, merely stood before her, possibly feeling as awkward as she did. Good, she hoped he was uncomfortable, he deserved to be so. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, pushing past him and wanting to be away from him. Forever at this point.

He clasped her arm as she passed, pulling her near. “Is that it then? That’s all you have to say to me? What is this biting cold that I’m getting from you? Am I not the one who should be offended?”

“You?” she blustered, pulling her arm out of his hold and glaring at him.

“Why should you be offended? I’m the one who is the victim here.

The woman as usual has been used as a man’s plaything,” she whispered, glancing around to ensure no one was listening.

“You’re a cad and seemed to have taken a page out of your brother’s playbook. ”

“What?” he stuttered, looking at her as if she had lost all sensible thought. “I heard what you said about me at the Groose Ball,” he continued. “Do not try to turn this fracture back onto me, for I’m completely innocent of it.”

“Are you serious?” She gaped. “I visited you at your private chapel and found you in discussion with your Catholic mentor, or whomever the man was.”

“You visited me?” He frowned, clearly trying to recall what day that may have been. “Was I in talks with Father Ivan perhaps?”

She shrugged, no longer very charitable about the Catholic priest either, not after what he said about her. Siren indeed… “Possibly, I do not recall who it was, but I certainly remember what you said and believed when fed to you on a spoon.”

“What I believed?” He opened and shut his mouth several times, as if trying to form words. “What did you hear?”

“That men such as yourself are often seduced by a Siren’s call and that while it’s natural to have these emotions ignited within us, that you must resist. That if I was truly meant for you, I would wait for you.

Give your poor little man mind time to make its decision as to whether my love and affection was true or not.

” She stepped closer to him, jabbing him in the ribs with her finger.

“Let us not forget that we’ve been intimate.

That I could right at this very moment be carrying your child. ”

She flailed her arms, at a loss for words, her temper giving way to decorum.

“But yes, by all means, test me over the next several months. Wait perhaps until I’m thick with your child before you decide if I’m worth leaving your precious church for.

” She shook her head, disgusted at him, at the church and Father Ivan.

She scowled, unable to fathom what she had heard him agree to and what she knew of him. How could he be so cruel?

“And that is all you heard?” Benedict let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “That was not the entire conversation, Angelica. You left, did you not? You did not stay and hear everything that was discussed before Father Ivan departed?”

Angelica ground her teeth, but nodded. “I left. Of course I left. Why would I stay and listen to a man who disparaged my character as it was? I’m not a Siren. I did not seduce you. I fell in love with you. There is a difference.”

“And that is why you were so cutting at the Groose Ball. Why you allowed me to hear what you said about me—because you believed me to be a cad who was going to test you as Father Ivan suggested.”

She raised her brow, shrugging. “And have I been wrong? You did not defend me, and then you think you have the right to be offended when I bite back at your bad behavior.” She shook her head.

“Well, do not worry, Lord Benedict. You shall not need to wait for me, to test me to ensure I’m genuine, for I do not want you as a husband.

I will marry anyone at all, so long as it is not you.

” She turned on her heel, but before she could take a step he had clasped her about the waist and wrenched her back against him.

She slammed up against his chest once again, but this time he did not let her go. “Unhand me, sir,” she seethed, pressing against his hardened muscles.

“Not until you listen to what I have to say,” he returned.

Angelica looked about. Before their conversation no eyes had been drawn, but they certainly were now. Including those of Lord St. George, who looked ready to flay Lord Benedict alive, had her sister not been holding her brother-in-law’s arm and stalling him.

What was Evangeline about?

“I do not want to listen to anything you have to say,” she returned, trying to wiggle out of his hold and failing.

“Yes, you will listen because you must,” he said, his hold on her tightening, and damn him all to hell, making her blood pump fast in her veins.

“I allowed the good Father Ivan to have his say. I listened as respectfully as I could, but what you failed to hear was the entire conversation. I told the Father that while I understood his concern, that he was wrong. That I love you, far above anything else, and that to wait to marry you would be akin to torture. That you were not a Siren, but an angel, the only woman I’ve ever loved or will love in my life.

I have notified the Church of my leaving, and I’m no longer in any way looking to become a priest. If that life means that I cannot marry you—if that life means that I cannot love you as much as I do, if that life means that I cannot breathe with want of you—I do not want it.

Had you just waited, you would have heard how much I adore you and do not wish to be parted from you. ”

Angelica swallowed the sizeable lump in her throat and forced herself to stop feeling the pricking in her eyes, but damn it all to Hades, at Benedict’s wonderful words, she could not. “I did not hear you say that.”

He grinned for the first time since their parting the week before and her stomach clenched. “I had thought as much.” He paused. “Was that why I heard you saying that I was a man without honor and that I would be better off marrying the church?”

“Was I wrong in thinking that after everything I heard?” Angelica took a calming breath, hoping the fear that had churned in her stomach was easing at Benedict’s words—not to mention how he was holding her now.

Not letting her go…

“No, you were not, but that does not change the fact you did not hear all of my conversation and that I did in fact defend you. I defended us and will always protect us because I love you, Angelica.”

Several sighs sounded about them and Angelica looked around, noting they now had a full gaggle of interested people.

“There is no need for us to be at odds or to lose what we’ve come to feel for each other.

It was a misunderstanding, on both our behalf’s, and I refuse to allow anything to come between us.

I did not wait eight and twenty years to find the woman of my dreams, only to lose her at the final hurdle. I will not.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and she swiped it away, forcing words past the lump in her throat. “You’ve left the church? You told them so?”

He nodded, a small wistful smile on his lips. “I did. Of course I did. How could I do otherwise? I love you, Angelica. I adore you and want you to be my wife.”

Again, several ladies tittered and sighed, and a gentleman or two whistled. Benedict laughed. “I asked you once before and I shall ask you again. Marry me, Lady Angelica. Be mine.”

Angelica bit her lip, the relief, the overwhelming sensation making her legs shake.

She closed the space that separated them and held him tight, having missed his warmth, having missed him this past week.

“Yes, I will marry you,” she mumbled against his chest. She pulled back and met his gaze, his too a little misty from their reunion. “I love you too.”

He pulled her close and rocked her in his arms. “I do not ever wish to argue again. Promise me that we shall not.”

She chuckled and leaned up on her tiptoes. “While I cannot promise you that, I will promise to always love you even when we disagree.”

Scandalously, Benedict dipped his head and kissed her softly, the action igniting a fire that she doubted would ever be doused. “Is tomorrow too soon to be my wife?”

Her sister cleared her throat and Angelica looked to her side where Lord St. George and Evangeline now stood, her sister’s eyes too a little glassy. “Tomorrow is too soon, Lord Benedict, but I think we can pull a wedding together in three days. That should suffice.”

“Sounds perfect.” Benedict smiled down at her and Angelica allowed the past week’s tension to slip from her mind and soul. Everything was right in the world, aligned and complete.

She would be Lady Angelica Deverell soon, and how wonderful that sounded.

How sweet that was.