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His gaze cut to mine, his blue eyes gleaming like the top of a still lake, and my stomach swooped in response. “I think I know you a little, Thea. Likely better than you realize.”
His words curled through me and resonated deep in my gut. A response evaded me, and when I turned to bluster at him he was already walking away, his posture easy and his walk refined, as though he was unaffected.
But I was not. I had been wholly affected by Benedict Bradwell and the way he spoke to me. I tamped those feelings down and shoveled dirt over them as though my thoughts of Benedict consisted of hot coals and I needed to snuff out the heat. I watched him curve through groups of chatting people until he came to a stop beside a group that consisted of a handful of gentlemen and a young woman in a silver gown.
“Come,” Felicity said softly, suddenly at my elbow and stealing my attention. “Lady Edith wants you to greet Alfred Upshaw.”
“I cannot dance with him,” I told her, struggling to tear my gaze from Benedict’s easy smile. I succeeded, though with Herculean effort, and set my wide eyes on my new friend. “He once told me how ardently he loves me after an extremely short acquaintance, and if I dance with him now, even though that was years ago, it might give him false expectations.”
“When was that?”
“When I was seventeen.”
Felicity looked unsure. “Surely he does not still carry atendrefor you, not after all that time.”
“I should hope not,” I said with feeling. The man was unsuitable as a whole. He clearly believed himself in love too quickly, and if he was to become a vicar like his father, he would be in a position to fall in love with any number of women in his congregation after we married. I would not be a wife who sat for his sermons week after week and watched him appreciate every other woman. “But I did give him a particularly unkind set down at the time, so he might have turned over his love for hatred. I should protect myself from him at all costs.”
“No one could hate you,” she said easily.
“Except Benedict,” I quipped.
Felicity’s strawberry-blonde hair was styled simply, with wisps of hair escaping and trailing over her neck. She looked over my shoulder where Benedict now stood with the group of men, chatting with the woman in the silver gown, and watched him analytically.
“He does not hate you,” she finally said. I moved to argue, but something in her expression made me pause. “Benedict certainly holds strong feelings where you are concerned, but I would not believe hate to be among them. No one would search for a woman for five months if he hated her. No man would sacrifice so dearly or work so hard, not even for his mother’s benefit. Hunting for you for a few weeks in the name of Lady Edith was perhaps reasonable, but not five months.”
Five months?
My stomach fell to the waxed wooden floor, and I sought Benedict in the crowd once more as the master of ceremonies was announcing the first set. His smile was trained down at the woman in the silver gown, his strong arm bent for her to rest her dainty hand on his elbow, and I felt sick. Sincerity shone in his joyfully creased smile, and whatever he said to the woman was enough to bring a pleased blush to her cheeks.
“Miss Northcott?” a voice said to my side. Mr. Rufford stood there, waiting for me. Felicity, it appeared, had gone back to stand beside James.
I placed my hand on Mr. Rufford’s arm and allowed him to lead me to the center of the room with the other dancers all lining up. Benedict and the silver goddess stood a few couples down from us, and I snapped my attention to Mr. Rufford so I would not be subjected to watching Benedict flirt any longer.
“Have you enjoyed being the headmaster here in Bakewell?”
“It has been an adjustment from Manchester, I will admit.”
“Good heavens, in what way?” He could not mean that he desired to return to such a bumbling city, surely.
He looked about the room briefly as the instruments began to play. “Far too slow here for my liking.”
Well, that I could understand, I supposed.
The dance began in earnest, and we moved along the smooth wood floors and kicked up our feet cheerfully. It was impossible not to wear a grin while dancing so happily, and my partner, though somber, knew the steps and executed them well enough. That dance and the next passed in relative joyfulness, but each time I lifted my head and noticed Benedict smiling down at his partner or saying something amusing to her glittering cheeriness, my stomach grew a little tighter.
Benedict had searched for me. Forfive months, the man had looked for me. When he’d explained his part in finding me, he had certainly attempted to make it sound like far less than it was. What would be the purpose of withholding the extent he went to in his search? What was he hiding? I wanted to question him, but first I wanted to tear the silver goddess’s hand from his arm.
When the set came to a close, I returned to Lady Edith’s side. She no longer stood with the vicar, for which I was grateful.
“You are a talented dancer,” Felicity said kindly.
“Thank you. I do enjoy it dearly. You are certain you won’t join me?” I looked from her to James, and he smiled lovingly down at his wife.
“We only dance when we are alone,” he explained. “Liss is a talented dancer, too.”
I would have to take his word for it. I understood she had anxious fits when she was forced to the center of attention, but as I did not suffer from the same malady, I could not entirely understand.
“Miss Northcott.”
