Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Alone in the drawing room long after Lady Esher had gone up to bed, Benedict leaned on the mantelpiece and toyed with his brandy glass, swirling around the same measure poured for him by the butler when they came in here after dinner.
“Hopelessly idealistic, impossibly stubborn, ridiculously vulnerable…” he murmured to himself.
Benedict was not thinking of the redoubtable mistress of Rosemere, of course, but of her niece.
How lovely Lady Louisa had been at the dinner table tonight in her white silk gown with a yellow sash.
It made him think again of seeing her illuminated by golden sunlight that afternoon, more like a summer goddess than a human woman.
“…distracting, oddly knowledgeable and too confident of her opinions for her own good…”
To Benedict’s disappointment, Lady Louisa had taken the children straight up to the nursery after dinner and had not returned. He had actually rather been looking forward to picking up their little debate again over a glass of brandy.
Her ideas might be naive and absurd but Lady Louisa’s wits were sharp and her spirit indomitable. Even after a long day and her fall at the seamstress, the young woman had lost nothing of her vivacity and brightness. Benedict was relieved to be sure that the accident had only been minor.
Lady Esher would have been devastated if Lady Louisa had been seriously hurt, as he suspected, would everyone else of Lady Louisa’s acquaintance, from the children to Seraphine and Damien, the Rosemere rector’s family and every neighbor in this district, high or low-born.
As would Benedict himself..?
“Damn it all!” he exclaimed and finally tossed back his brandy in a single gulp after nursing it for more than an hour.
Aside from the inconvenience, and the barrier of his own peculiar principles, this was another reason that Benedict did not normally pursue, or spend any more time than strictly necessary with, unmarried young ladies.
If they did know the power of their own charms, like most of the young ladies in London, they were irritating.
If they did not, like Lady Louisa, they were dangerous.
Benedict did not wish to seduce anyone who lacked his own familiarity with straying from society’s path.
Indeed, he was often open to being seduced from that path himself at the right woman’s behest.
Benedict preferred the company of more experienced, and ideally older women, who knew what they wanted and how to get it, with a minimum of inconvenience to either side, and more than a minimum of mutual pleasure.
In another fortnight or so, he would be back in that familiar world, free of children and social responsibilities and far away from beautiful golden-headed romantics who preached of love and simple country life.
Would an evening in the bed chamber of the amoral and sensual Contessa Luciana Sforza exorcise his longing to kiss Lady Louisa Ascot.. ?
The thought left him cold, not normally an effect that the sloe-eyed Contessa had on any man lucky enough to attract her attention. Presently, Benedict wanted only to gaze on hazel-green eyes, breath in the scent of woodland violets and press his lips to those of…
What is wrong with me?!
Benedict turned his head as the drawing room door creaked open, expecting to see Lady Esher returned for something, or a servant coming to check whether he had gone to bed yet, and ready to snuff the candles.
Instead, a figure with a mass of honey-colored curls stepped into the room and then halted, startled, before the door. She still wore her white silk evening gown although she had unfastened her hair. It glowed most becomingly in the flickering candlelight.
“Oh, Your Grace, I had no idea you were still down here,” Lady Louisa blurted out. “I hope I am not disturbing you. I have only come downstairs for Fanny’s doll. She left one of them in here, I believe, and will not go back to sleep until I fetch it.”
“A doll,” Benedict repeated, realizing that he was staring and tearing his eyes away as the beating of his heart grew notably stronger in his chest. “Does she remember where she put it?”
“Over by the window, I think. Fanny was playing on that window seat. I shall look. Please don’t let me put you to any trouble.”
As she replied, Lady Louisa gestured vaguely towards that spot, not meeting Benedict’s eyes.
This was perhaps just as well given his present difficulty in controlling his gaze, drawn inexorably by the rosiness of her smooth cheeks in the candlelight and the gentle rounding of her figure in that white dress.
Perhaps Lady Louisa had already loosened the gown’s neckline. The swell of her breasts seemed more obvious, even when Benedict was trying to focus elsewhere, and far more alluring. It was best that the doll was found quickly and such temptations removed.
“Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” he said shortly. “The sooner the doll is found, the sooner we can go to bed.”
Benedict almost bit his tongue the minute that phrase was out of his mouth.
With certain other attractive women, any double meaning might have been deliberate, an obvious stepping stone towards the bedroom.
With Lady Louisa, when even daydreams of this nature were unwise, his slip was entirely inadvertent and stirred his blood most disturbingly.
At least she herself seemed not to have noticed anything, assuming that her small sigh was for the missing doll.
From different directions, they both walked over to the place indicated and looked about, discovering no doll on the window seat itself, nor on the tables and chairs nearby.
Then, at seemingly the same moment, Benedict and Lady Louisa spotted the pale fabric and gleaming buttons that showed the toy’s resting place on the floor beside the window seat.
Almost colliding, their hands came to rest on the toy at the same time, Benedict’s larger hand over Lady Louisa’s smaller, softer hand.
In the confusion, they rose again together too, their fingers still connected around the doll as though neither of them wished to relinquish it, or relinquish each other.
It was only a slight contact but the power of the sensation it aroused took Benedict’s breath away. Instantly and almost irresistibly, he wanted Lady Louisa in his arms, in his bed, beneath his body…
“I’m so sorry…please…you must…” Lady Louisa said, startled and stumbling over her words, as she jerked back away from him, her cheeks flushing beautifully in the candlelight.
“Forgive me…I…”
Forgiveness for what? Pulse throbbing, Benedict could not have said. For touching her hand? For gazing into her eyes? For longing to embrace her fully..?
Confused by the situation, Lady Louisa backed away now and caught the back of her leg on a low table. For the second time that day, she tripped but this time Benedict was close enough to step forward and catch her in his arms, her gasp of surprise setting his blood on fire.
The doll had dropped to the ground, Lady Louisa’s hands were both on his torso, while one of his own arms was around her waist and his other hand behind her shoulder.
It was already far more than simply steadying a lady from a fall and Benedict knew that he should not be holding Lady Louisa in such an intimate way. Still, it felt so right to finally feel the warmth and weight of her body against his.
At this proximity too, he could finally answer his question about Louisa’s eyes. They were deep green, flecked with bronze and circled with gold - the eyes of a woodland nymph. Presently, those beautiful eyes gazed mutely at Benedict with mingled bewilderment and expectation.
In this moment, he could neither deny nor resist what he wanted.
More than that, aware of her quickened breathing and sweetly sensual expression, Benedict felt sure that the woman in his arms wanted the same thing, whether she knew it yet or not.
The soft, pink lips of Louisa’s mouth parted under his gaze, although no words were spoken.
Surely, it could not be so very wrong to follow instinct, when it was the most natural thing in the world..?
Louisa felt as though she was under the influence of some powerful drug. She had only come downstairs to fetch Fanny’s doll. Yet somehow she had ended up in the strong arms of the Duke of Northwick, his handsome face gazing down upon hers with burning intensity.
He ought not to hold her so close, even after saving her from a fall, but Louisa did not want him to let go. Nor could she speak, having no words for the butterflies fluttering in her stomach or the throbbing of the blood in her veins. Her breath was coming in gasps.
How very handsome he was, with his blue and green eyes and his well-shaped features. Louisa felt she could look upon that face forever.
What is he doing? What is happening to me?
When the Duke of Northwick lowered his face and pressed his lips to Louisa’s it was simultaneously shocking and inevitable. She felt as though she had been waiting forever for the touch of his warm mouth on hers, although she might never have known it.
The thrill of the kiss ran through her body like lightning and Louisa gasped.
A small sound of surprised pleasure then came unbidden from her throat as his tongue gently sought hers.
She could smell the cologne on his warm skin, some subtle blend of cedar and sandalwood, and her hand was somehow tangling in his hair of its own volition.
“Yes,” he breathed heavily, pausing briefly to caress her face. “Yes…Hold me, Louisa…Kiss me like that again…”
Louisa did so, needing no real urging, but still impossibly excited by his words. At first uncertain, but then animated by the strange desire that was taking her over, she touched her parted lips to the duke’s once more, brushing them with her tongue as he had done to her a moment ago.
“God yes,” he murmured with feeling before deepening that kiss in a way that rendered Louisa helpless with confused excitement.