Page 8 of Dare it all for Love

“Oh, darling. Oh, you do look lovely,” Mama said, giving her a warm smile.

Florence blushed a little, wishing she’d not gone to so much trouble.

“I wondered if you would like me to stay with you?”

“Oh, no,” Florence said at once. She didn’t doubt Henry was dreading this as much as she was. Having to apologise in front of both her and her mother would be too embarrassing for words, and he’d hate her even more. “No, I’ll be fine. Really.”

Mama nodded, frowning a little. “It’s the strangest thing, though. I’ve never known Henry to be rude to anyone before in my life. I—”

“Oh, well, you know how it is. Some people just rub you up the wrong way for no reason,” Florence said, wanting the conversation over as quickly as possible. “He probably thinks me an empty-headed ninny who was interfering in men’s business.”

Her mother bristled at once and Florence sighed, realising she’d said precisely the wrong thing.

“If he does—”

“Oh, Mama, ignore me. I’m just nervous. You cannot get angry at the man when we have no idea what motivated him, especially as he is coming to apologise. Perhaps he has things on his mind that we know nothing about, and he did not mean to lash out at me at all. Everyone says how out of character it was for him to do so, therefore there must be an explanation.”

Shame burned in Henry’s chest as he stood in the open door of the library and heard Florence defend him for no good reason he could think of. He cleared his throat, and she whirled around. Oh, God help him. His breath caught, a dart of longing stabbing at his chest. Her eyes were thickly lashed, and they widened at the sight of him. Henry stared into them, discovering they were most astonishing shade of green and ever so slightly tilted, giving her a somewhat feline appearance.

“Miss Knight, Lady Helena,” he said, bowing.

Lady Helena gave him a cool, considering look that lingered for a second longer than was comfortable. She patted her daughter’s arm.

“I’m going to take a walk down to the lake with Harriet if you want me, darling. Henry,” she added as she walked past him, a warning note in the sound of his name he did not miss.

Helena left the door ajar, but they were alone now, and Henry had never been more aware of the fact in his life. His senses seemed heightened somehow by her proximity, every part of him orientated towards her. Concentrate, you blithering idiot.

He cleared his throat again, feeling like a snotty schoolboy and not a man who had seen more of the world than most.

“Miss Knight, I….” he began, forcing himself to remember the words he’d rehearsed on the ride over here. “I must begin by—”

“Why don’t you like me?”

Henry stopped, staring at her in alarm. No, no. This was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to ask questions, she was supposed to listen to his apology, make him feel wretched a bit longer, and then accept it so they could both go about their business.

“Er….” Oh, very eloquent, and he was supposed to be the sophisticated man about town.

She sighed and gave him an impatient glance before walking to the window and staring out.

“You don’t like me,” she repeated, except it wasn’t a question this time. “You avoid me, never speak to me, even when I’m right in front of you. Have I done something, offended you somehow…?”

“No!” he said at once, appalled it had been so damned obvious. What a blasted imbecile he was. “No, of course not.”

She glanced back at him, such hurt in her eyes that he felt that awful stabbing sensation in his chest again. God damn it.

“Miss Knight, it isn’t… I don’t….” Henry muttered an oath and ran a hand through his hair.

Every instinct was yelling at him to go to her, to tell her…tell her what? That he wanted to kiss her from her perfect little nose to her innocent toes, and every splendid inch of skin in between, that he wanted to feel her body against his and make her cry out his name. Oh, yes, her parents would love an apology of that nature. Christ. This was bad.

“It’s all right, Mr Stanhope,” she said, with something that looked horribly like sympathy in her eyes. “I suppose it simply isn’t possible to like everyone. Perhaps I remind you of someone else who was unkind to you in the past. Either way, it is of little consequence. I know you are sorry, so there is no need to prolong the agony. Good day to you.”

“No. Wait,” he said the words escaping him before he could consider the consequences. “Please.”

She paused, watching him warily. Damn, but she was perceptive, this young woman, for how else could she know how she stirred the memories of his past? Not that she reminded him of Lily’s golden, blue-eyed beauty. In looks they were like night and day, except Florence Knight was far lovelier, for she had a good heart, a heart he had wounded. She did remind him of his past, though, of the fact that he could be hurt, hurt very deeply, and that made him angry. He did not want to remember a time when he’d been vulnerable. He never wanted to be vulnerable ever again. Yet he owed her something.

Nausea churned in his guts, but he forced the words out.

“You do remind me of someone,” he said, not entirely truthfully, but it was as close as he could get, as much as he dared give her. “And I wish to offer my sincere apologies for… for punishing you for another’s sin. It was unforgivable, and I regret it, Miss Knight. I swear that I do.”