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Chapter Fourteen
Anne smoothed her hands down the front of her ballgown. It was one of the most exquisite dresses she’d ever commissioned. Made of bright peridot satin, the bodice was trimmed with the most feminine lace and heavy gold embroidery work. Touches of that trimmed the short sleeves, while a still golden lace overskirt glimmered with her every movement.
Would Benedict like it? It was silly to think that dressing to advantage might snare a man’s notice, but she was proud of the gown. The color made her think of summer days and the gold touches reminded her of the world when the sunrise and sunset gilded everything. Plus, the vain part of her really did want him to notice her, for he’d seemed distracted earlier when they attended the travelling fair.
Oh, he’d been solicitous and slightly overprotective, but she thought it attractive, to say nothing of the fact that each time they accidentally touched or when she heard his voice, awareness crashed over her, and she remembered the wholly scandalous things they’d indulged in the night before. Having him in her bed, lying beside her during the night had wrapped her in comfort and protection during the remainder of the storms, and she rather thought life would be wonderfully indulgent were she to allow him to creep deeper into her heart than he’d already gone.
She walked over the lawn where the rays of the evening sun reached and flooded the tables and chairs set up on the grass with golden illumination. Dinner had been a boisterous, happy affair, and even her parents had seemed to enjoy themselves. She’d sat with them, but none of them had discussed her imminent flight.
Which was fine; she would show them that her hobby was something more worthwhile than they thought.
Throughout the meal, Benedict had talked to her of various guests and how he knew them. He harbored a wickedly adoring side that gave her the same feeling as flying—she craved it—which was perhaps why it was so easy to draw him out and tease him into scandal. But there was more between them than just that… and that was when the frantic pulse of panic set in.
Falling in love meant losing herself, meant becoming what he expected in a possible viscountess, meant the end of everything… and she’d had enough of that from her parents. She’d come too far to fail now merely because her heart might want him… someday.
What would happen after her flight at sundown? Would she remove to London with her parents and forget about Benedict? Her heart trembled as she sent her gaze his way. He chatted with a few ladies near the terrace where dancing was in full swing. The man would wed her if he could because he was an honorable sort, and he obviously wanted her beyond an obligation, but was she in as deep as he?
Fond of him? Certainly.
Addicted to his touch? Absolutely.
Wanting a leg-shackling for a lifetime? Clearly undecided.
Lord Randolph intercepted her as she gained the terrace, and she was glad for the distraction from her thoughts. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Anne?”
“Yes, but it’s been a rather busy day. I really should forego the dancing in favor of preparing for my flight, yet I love it so.”
“Indulge yourself. No one can fault you for that.” He grinned, and there was no doubt he was handsome in a golden Adonis way much different from Benedict. “Is everything in readiness for tonight?”
“Yes, as much as I can make it.” Warmth filled her cheeks when he took her hand and kissed the back. “I’ll leave directly after dancing. You will have to navigate the dessert course without me.” For the dowager viscountess had decided everyone would have dessert while wandering the lawn ahead of moving on to the fair. When feminine laughter wafted on the air to her ears, she threw a glance in that direction. Benedict was clearly entertaining this evening, and the ladies were lapping it up. Had he forgotten about her already?
Lord Randolph followed her glance. “You seem concerned about Benedict.”
“It’s not him per se but perhaps about him.” She frowned when a tiny stab of jealousy went through her chest as one of the ladies briefly touched his arm.
“How so?” With ease, he led her onto the terrace where couples were assembling for a waltz.
Anne sighed. “Has Benedict always meant to marry?” The way Lord Randolph held her was much different than the viscount, and though she’d yet to dance with Benedict, she found she preferred being in his arms over those of his friend.
“I suppose he did when he remembered it was expected.” The peer swept her through the first turn of the terrace. Her skirts swirled about their legs. “However, he’s always been the sensitive type who feels things deep in his soul. I suspect he’s wanted the type of marriage his parents enjoyed, and that’s rare in the ton.”
Which meant he’d make an outstanding husband. “Does his title mean so much to him?” She didn’t know him all that well, but she wanted to.
“After his father died, he promised his mother to take up those reins and make his father’s memory proud.” Her partner’s face was serious. “Benedict wants to teach logic and risk analysis to those fools in Parliament. I told him it’s an impossible endeavor, for men in politics have no common sense. They don’t wish to see the truth or work for the greater good.”
Anne smiled. “That may be so, but he’s stubborn in his own way.” She easily matched Lord Randolph’s steps but being in his company didn’t set her aflame like Benedict did. “Does he yearn for a family?”
“I’ve never heard him talk about children, yet he’s never been a rogue or a rake.” His eyes twinkled. “Like me.” When she laughed, his grin widened. “Such things haven’t been a concern for him.” He gave her a curious look. “Might I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” What was Benedict doing? Had he asked one of those women to dance?
“Do you care for him?”
Oh, such a question fraught with confusion! “I… I’m fond of him. And he’s a darling in his support.”
Lord Randolph frowned as he led her about another turn. “Do you love him?”
“I’m not sure.” Furious attraction aside, did her feelings for Benedict run deep or engage her heart?
