Chapter Ten
Do not allow your passions to control your decisions. Passion soon dies, attraction fades, but a pragmatic union to an obedient wife will stand the test of time...
‘C an you point out the North Star?’ Bennett asked with a hint of challenge. He watched her scan the night sky until she found the one that burned the brightest and pointed at it triumphantly.
‘There it is! Just to the left.’
‘If you move your eyes slightly above that, do you see the constellation that resembles the letter W turned upside down?’ She nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the heavens. ‘That is Cassiopeia. In the winter we get the best view of this constellation as it is directly above us.’ As a boy, he had enjoyed staring at the sky through the telescope Uncle George had bought for him. How long had it been since he had done something like that, just for the pleasure of it? At least ten years. That was a sobering thought.
‘Do the skies change with the seasons?’
‘Indeed they do.’ She grinned then and he felt a ridiculous sense of pride at having told her something that pleased her. ‘If you look back at Cassiopeia and then move your gaze slightly to your left, there is a larger constellation called Andromeda. She was Cassiopeia’s beautiful daughter. Many of the constellations were named after the characters from Ancient Greek mythology. The brightest star is her head.’ Bennett traced the shape of the constellation with his hand in the air. He was probably boring the poor girl but couldn’t seem to stop. ‘Her arms are outstretched.’
She frowned delightfully. ‘If those are her legs below, she is not in a very ladylike position.’
‘The poor girl had been chained to a rock and was about to be eaten by a monster. I doubt she cared overmuch about correct posture.’
A little bubble of laughter escaped and she might have just given him the moon. ‘Didn’t Perseus save her?’
‘He did.’ Bennett began to trace the shape of the other constellation in the sky to help her to find it. ‘There he is. He is flying towards her with his sword outstretched.’
‘I can’t see it.’
Without thinking, he moved closer and took her hand. The effect it had on him was instantaneous. Just one touch and all at once it wasn’t enough. He wanted to pull her into his arms and trace the sensitive skin on the undersides of her wrists, place a kiss directly where her pulse beat, but such a thing was simply not done and, if it was, not with a companion. So instead he helped her to trace the constellation in the sky and then swiftly dropped her hand in case he acted on his urges.
‘I think it is lovely that those old legends are used to such great effect. Are there others?’
She was staring intently up at the stars, a position that exposed the pale column of her neck. Bennett found his eyes drawn to it, wondering what the skin there would taste like. All at once, he was not quite as frozen as he had been. Part of him immediately began to warm at the thought.
In an effort to distract himself, Bennett spent several minutes pointing out every constellation he knew and, to his complete delight, she apparently knew every myth that had earned them their names and was able to find the ridiculous in all of them. Far from making him feel as if he were lecturing her on something dull, she appeared genuinely engaged in the topic. In silent agreement, they both began to stroll slowly back through the shadowy garden towards the house as he continued to point out the things that he hoped she still found interesting.
‘You are very well read, Miss Mansfield.’
‘I used to work at a circulating library and made good use of the stock.’ The smile on her face faltered as soon as she said this, then returned, a little forced, as she gazed purposefully back up at the sky. ‘If it was not the middle of winter and the ground was not so cold, I would be lying on the grass now to look at it all properly.’
‘Like you did in my hallway? I fail to understand why you would need to do that when you can see just as well simply by moving your head back.’
She rolled her eyes and sighed in mock exasperation. ‘Yes—but you only ever get to see a fraction that way. Your perspective is distorted. You miss things because the picture is disjointed.’ She stared deeply into his eyes and Bennett found that he was unable to look away. ‘Only when you can see the whole thing in its entirety do you fully appreciate it. Your wonderful ceiling mural is an excellent case in point. It is beautiful when you turn in a circle to look at it, but it is quite breathtaking when viewed from the floor.’
Breath-taking. Two words that perfectly summed up Miss Mansfield in such close quarters. She was breath-taking. Had he ever thought that about a woman before? Pretty, certainly. Even beautiful, occasionally, but to see a face that made your words catch in your throat and your heart race at the mere sight of it? That had never happened to him. Bennett found himself staring at her lips as she spoke and wondering how they tasted too. What would that trim womanly body feel like pressed close to his? Even better, what would her bare skin feel like next to his? Would it be so terrible if he succumbed, just this once, to temptation so that he could find out?
She was staring at him with such intensity, her lips ever so slightly parted, and he was sorely tempted to just give in and kiss her. When the tip of her tongue nervously traced the top of those lush lips he almost did...until the sounds of the ballroom began to drift towards him, reminding him that they were not really alone and he panicked.
‘Well, I shan’t be lying on any floors soon.’ The words came out as an admonishment because her presence unsettled him. Bennett instantly regretted his harsh tone. Unfortunately, his brain and vocal cords did not appear to be aligned because more of the same nonsense came from them. ‘I have a perfectly good perspective of the world without having to sprawl on the floor like a commoner.’ Now he had offended her. Her feline eyes narrowed and her lovely mouth flattened. He tried to save the situation, but his wayward mouth had gained too much momentum. ‘And it has not escaped my notice, Miss Mansfield, that despite my previous admonishment you were once again out in the dark. Alone.’
Even with her father lurking within a stone’s throw, and despite the fact that he was also a member of the aristocracy, Amelia had been enjoying the Duke’s company.
Had.
When he wasn’t being the Duke, Bennett Montague was actually a very knowledgeable man with a dry, clever sense of humour. His grasp of the universe was quite impressive and he managed to explain it all without sounding patronising or haughty or pompous.
For once.
And that had been the problem. At some point while they were strolling back through the garden, the cosy intimacy and easy conversation had made her forget that he was a pompous duke and Amelia had enjoyed being with the man. Seeing him as a pompous duke, it did not matter that his silvery blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight or that his quiet, deep chuckle made her insides melt like butter. Seeing him as a man, Amelia was keenly aware of those things. Repeatedly, she’d found herself staring at his profile as he gazed at the sky. The mist in the air had tousled his hair so that it fell over his forehead, and each time they’d paused to look at another constellation she had been sorely tempted to brush it away from his eyes. And then the air around them hung heavy with the weight of promise and she had the distinct feeling that he was going to kiss her. At that moment, to her complete surprise, she would not have minded in the slightest.
However, the closer they’d got to the house, the more duke-like he’d become. Now the Duke of Aveley was back with a vengeance. His posture was as stiff as a plank and his arms were clasped imperiously behind his back. It had been the most sudden, and unwelcome, transformation. Almost calculated. It was obvious that he had no intention of even pretending to be amiable when he was anywhere near his peers and would be mortified if anybody saw them together, even though there were already several people taking the air on the terrace a few feet away, so their presence out here could be easily explained. Yet he had called her a commoner—maybe not directly, but the implication was clear—and the spell he had cast around her was broken.
Thank heavens.
The very last man she would ever want to kiss would be a man with a title. Just like her father, Bennett Montague could change from reasonable man to self-righteous aristocrat with a click of his fingers. Underneath all of that amiability he was just as mercenary and she would do well to remember that.
‘I hardly think that walking in a garden in Mayfair counts as a clandestine outing. And, even if it did, I am employed by your aunt. My free time is mine to do with as I choose.’ Gathering her blanket tightly around her, Amelia turned and marched around the side of the house towards the French windows she had left open. She heard him start after her.
‘Wait. I am sorry. My tone was unnecessarily harsh and I apologise. It’s just that...’
Amelia whipped her head around angrily and cut him off. ‘Save your apologies; I have no need of them. We both know that your aristocratic stodginess returned the very moment you realised that you might be seen talking to someone as lowly as me!’
‘Stodgy!’ That word, out of all that she had used, clearly offended him the most and he thrust out his square jaw in protest. Well, Amelia had a jawbone too and could not stop herself from using it.
‘Yes. Stodgy. You have no need to fear for your aristocratic reputation, Your Grace; I would rather not be seen with you either. Commoners can be quite particular about who we talk to.’ Her feet tore up the ground and the elusive French windows came into sight. Unfortunately, her short legs were no match for his much longer strides.
‘I did not mean that either, Miss Mansfield.’ He was in front of her now and intent on blocking her path. He ran his hand through his thick hair in agitation and then stood a little awkwardly. It was apparent that he did not know what to do with his arms until he clasped them firmly behind his back again. ‘I just...’
‘It does not matter.’ Amelia was in no mood for hollow explanations or meaningless apologies. She was well aware of her place in society—and of his. Experience had taught her a great deal about the titled male’s mind; any doubts she had about the mind of this man in front of her had been amply filled with the drivel in his silly book. She had been foolish to allow her head to be turned, even for a few minutes, by a man who lived according to such a strict and ancient code of conduct.
But she had promised Lady Worsted that she would be on her best behaviour whilst she was a guest in his house; no matter how galling she found it, her position in the household meant that she had to keep the peace and swallow her pride. ‘You are a duke. I am a servant. You have been very charitable to have honoured me with your conversation this evening and I thank you for it. However, the vast chasm between our stations makes it impossible for you to continue in that vein in the company of others. I understand that. Let us not make more of it than it is, Your Grace.’
‘Stop interrupting me!’
The next thing that she knew, he’d hauled her against him and covered her mouth with his.