Bennett’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “Men and women cannot truly be friends,” he declared. “One always cares for the other more than they should. It is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“You must not have very many friends, then,” Miles quipped.
Bennett chuckled. “Says a man that pushes all his friends away,” he countered.
Try as he might, Miles couldn’t deny the truth in those words. “It is easier that way,” he admitted with resignation.
The humor faded from Bennett’s expression as he looked at Miles with concern. “It may be easier, but it is lonely to be alone.”
“Loneliness is a constant friend, I’m afraid. It is what I am familiar with and, quite frankly, it is what I deserve,” Miles said.
Bennett stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face him. “You are more than your past. You have a future. You just need to know where to look for it.”
Miles remained rooted in his spot as Bennett descended the stairs. His friend’s words sounded simple, but they were anything but. How could he move on and forget about Arabella? He couldn’t do that. Not to her. And not to himself.
Edwina emerged from the drawing room and looked up at him with a questioning look. Her dark green gown hugged her curves perfectly. She truly was a beautiful woman, radiating beauty from within. For when she smiled, his soul seemed to come alive.
He descended the stairs, his eyes never leaving Edwina’s as he came to a stop in front of her. “Hello,” he greeted softly.
She offered him a shy smile. “Hello.”
“I missed escorting you down to the drawing room thisevening,” he admitted. “Instead, I was forced to walk with Bennett.”
“How awful for you,” she teased, a twinkle in her eyes.
“It was,” Miles replied with mock seriousness. “Thank you for acknowledging that.”
With a glance over her shoulder, Edwina shared, “Bennett has been rather inquisitive of me regarding how much time we are spending together.”
Miles gave her an understanding look. “I experienced the same thing on our walk here.”
“We can’t tell him the truth, not yet at least,” Edwina said. “But he does suspect something is going on between us.”
“He said that to you?” Miles asked.
“Not in so many words,” Edwina replied. “I may just be a woman, but I am not entirelyunclever.”
Miles grinned. “You enjoy making up your own words, don’t you?”
“Unclever is a word,” she protested.
“No, it is not,” Miles insisted.
Edwina tilted her chin defensively. “I read the word unclever in the writings of John Ash.”
“The Baptist?” Miles asked, lowering his voice. “You read one of his books?”
“Do not look so surprised, considering he wrote many grammar books,” Edwina replied. “My father had a penchant for grammar.”
A smile tugged at Miles’ lips at the thought of a young Edwina eagerly devouring a grammar book. “Well, I stand corrected on ‘unclever’ but you still made up the word ‘earlish.’”
“It will catch on,” she insisted.
“No, it won’t,” he said with a chuckle.
Lady Dallington’s voice came from the doorway to the drawing room. “Lord Hilgrove, please join us in here as we wait for my husband.”
“Very well,” Miles said, offering his arm to Edwina.
