Page 35 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

Louisa’s pretty face had crumpled as he talked and she seemed on the verge of tears. Benedict knew her distress was all his fault, one way or another, but what he had said to her was still true. There was no point in comforting lies or half-truths at a time of crisis.

“The servants are all looking at me so oddly today,” she burst out suddenly, stopping and putting her hands to her face. “Oh, I cannot bear it!”

Belatedly, Benedict realized that there did seem to be more whispering maids and footmen about the place generally this morning. Curtains twitched at windows as the left the house and once they reached the rose gardens, several gardeners seemed to to take a greater interest in the flower beds nearby than was strictly necessary.

Benedict sighed, knowing that this was all inevitable, even if very uncomfortable for such a sheltered young woman as Lady Louisa Ascot.

“Your servants are curious and it will pass,” he told Louisa. “I am accustomed to people pointing and staring at me and know what I’m talking about. Let your servants watch us walking together. If we give them the act they’re expecting, they can confirm what they’ve heard and will grow bored soon enough.”

When Benedict offered his arm again, Louisa took it, seeming to accept the wisdom of his advice. Once more, he felt the satisfaction of her hold on him. While he spoke about putting on an act, and was certainly familiar with such mild dissimulation, nothing of this situation felt staged. It never did with Lady Louisa Ascot, and he suspected it never could.

This is real. Louisa is real…

Such thoughts shook him and disturbed the equanimity he felt bound to preserve even at such times as this.

“Your Grace,” his companion began.

“Benedict,” he corrected her with a wry smile. “I think we are far beyond the formalities now.”

“Benedict,” Louisa said hesitantly, looking into his face with those bewitchingly open hazel-green eyes.

The sound of his name on her lips touched Benedict like a warm breeze, soothing and exhilarating all at once. How wonderful it would be to hear his name spoken like that every day for the rest of his life… For a short moment, all was well, until he remembered that it wasn’t, and never could be.

“We must talk about what happens next,” he said heavily.

Louisa nodded, apparently with no more enthusiasm for the subject than he felt himself.

Chapter Fifteen

“We must talk about what happens next.”

“Yes, we must,” agreed Louisa, unable to restrain her deep sigh or summon anything close to a smile.

This peculiar walk under so many eyes in Rosemere’s gardens was so far from every dream she’d ever had around a marriage proposal. Was it even a proposal when it seemed to already be agreed on all fronts?

Still, Louisa could feel the warmth of Benedict’s body through the light summer fabric of his jacket and drew some strange comfort from that despite herself. This was not what she had wanted, but he had not wanted it either, and she was not alone in her predicament.

Was the Duke of Northwick a rake or not? Her thoughts on this question now were ever more confused. The actions of his hands and lips in the drawing room last night ought to be damning evidence of immorality and yet Louisa could not bring herself to condemn him.

While puzzled by her own desire, she had wanted their kisses and caresses just as much as her partner in crime. Nor had Benedict abandoned Louisa to her fate after their discovery, as a rake would surely have done. On the contrary, he had shielded and defended her at every turn. None of it made sense.

A day earlier, Louisa had been a carefree, entirely unattached and unmarried young lady. Now, she was betrothed to a duke, and had apparently virtually jilted a second gentleman of whose existence she was only minimally aware. Was this really her life or some awful dream..?

“It appears that we are betrothed, Benedict,” Louisa said, the word sounding so very strange in her own ear.

The man beside her gave a short laugh.

“It does, doesn’t it? I apologize for any inconvenience it causes you, but there is no other way. I am glad that you see that.”

While not the path he would have chosen, their shared fate did not seem to trouble him as deeply as it troubled Louisa. How could it? This was a man who did not believe in true love. He was marrying her only out of duty and obligation. What happiness could either of them hope for from that?

“Yes, there is no other way,” Louisa agreed dully.

“We ought to look on the bright side, I suppose,” he mused and Louisa frowned, uncomprehending. “When I am a respectable married gentleman, the ton must stop chasing me with nonsense scandals, mothers must stop throwing their eligible daughters in my path in the hope of marriage, and I need not worry about hiding the carriages of late-night visitors…”

“Do you have many late-night visitors?” inquired Louisa with unintentional sharpness, her mind again recalling that awful imagined parade of ladies in Benedict’s strong arms, their lips raised for his kisses.

“Sometimes, yes,” he answered shortly, looking back at her with appraising eyes. “That need not concern you, Louisa. I am sure we can respect one another’s privacy and independence.”