AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Here we are, Miss Wyre.” Joshua said with a smile. “I do hope we’ll see you soon.”
CHAPTER19
Benedict paced up and down in his room. Up and down, up and down. He’d had much preferred to pace in the dining room or in the hallways, but there would be questions asked if he acted so strangely.
His grandmother was home by now, he could hear her talking downstairs. Joshua had returned home hours ago from taking Rosaline home, but by then Benedict had already retired, keen to avoid any probing questions.
He’d also had a very urgent…problemto deal with, after Rosaline left. That problem was the reason why he’d asked Joshua to escort her home instead.
He’d finished and cleaned up soon enough, his mind freshly clear. That left him in the perfect position to wonder what onearthhe was doing.
He should never have donethatwith Rosaline. She wasn’t a real fiancé, she was just… just…
What exactly was she, then? For somebody whose sole purpose was to keep Benedict safe from greedy-eyed mamas and po-faced girls, he certainly spent a lot of time thinking about her.
And seeing her, and talking to her, and talking to othersabouther.
Benedict paused in front of his mirror, a full-length affair that he used to check his clothes before he went out. He saw a pale man in the mirror, disheveled, heavy-eyed, chewing his lip. Anxious.
What on earth is wrong with me?
Benedict was a clever man, and his sharp brain produced the answer without much wavering at all.
He had feelings for Rosaline. Why else would he have worked so hard to spend time with her? He’d put her pleasure above his own and couldn’t stop replaying the incident in his mind.
Head spinning, Benedict sat down heavily. It must be close to midnight now, and he felt simultaneously exhausted and wide awake.
He had to address these feelings. Benedict prided himself on not being one of those men who believed one could push one’s feelings down until they choked you. One’s heart and brain would do what they liked, you had better just try to keep up.
He flopped backwards onto his bed, not caring about crumpling his good evening clothes.
Iwill have to meet her and come clean. I will have to arrange it soon, tomorrow if possible. After what we did together, I really ought to marry here.
Benedict paused, waiting for the usual flood or panic and horror at the thought of marriage. It did not come.
Why not? What was so different about Rosaline Wyre?
Benedict groaned, covering his face with his hands. Either way, he could do nothing tonight. He would meet her tomorrow and try and come clean. He would tell her the truth of what he felt.
Perhaps she did not feel the same. Benedict knew that women felt the same urges and desires that men did but were expressly forbidden from satisfying them outside of marriage.
Even inside marriage, sometimes.
Perhaps Rosaline was simply exploring her own feelings, all with a man she knew would never wish to actually marry her. After all, she was a woman who relished her freedom.
Benedict sighed, rolling onto his side. He was asleep before he knew it and did not dream.
It was a grey, heavy morning, with the promise of rain in the air.
Benedict swallowed his panic, keeping a close eye on the sky as he walked.
He hadn’t dreamt of his parents last night. Even though he knew that Rosaline could not have had anything to do with that, he felt as though she had protected him from the nightmares.
He hurried along the main street, craning his neck and looking out for Rosaline. She was supposed to meet him at the entrance to the Park, and he prayed that she hadn’t brought her maid with her.
As an adult, Benedict knew that the storm hadn’t killed his parents. They’d run off the road due to the poor old coachman’s sudden heart attack. It was understandable that their bodies would have been broken and twisted by the fall, but their death would have been swift.
The man, the Duke of Keswick, knew all this, but the little boy, Benedict, could not understand it. And so, the nightmares continued.
