Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“So, we have around thirty guests for the engagement party so far,” pronounced Aunt Beatrice at breakfast, “and at least another ten still to reply. Including ourselves too, I expect we will have around fifty in total. I really must confirm numbers with Mrs. Wilcox as soon as I can, for the food.”
She looked to Louisa and Seraphine expectantly. Damien was reading a newspaper, the children had already returned to the nursery, and Benedict had not come in to breakfast yet, his absence both relief and disappointment to Louisa.
“I did not expect so many people,” Louisa remarked to her aunt, a little dismayed at the thought of having to publicly perform the role of bride-to-be before so many people in less than a fortnight’s time.
“As you’re only having a small wedding, I dare say lots of your local friends want to come to the party to wish you both well,” pointed out Seraphine. “You and Aunt Beatrice are very well liked in the neighborhood.”
Louisa smiled wanly, knowing that Seraphine was right. Her friends would want to wish her well, and she must smile and thank them for it.
“Who is still to reply?” she asked her aunt, trying to be helpful, if she could not be happy. “I could call in some of them when I go out walking with Seraphine and the children later.”
“Let me see,” replied her aunt, consulting the pencil-marked list she had brought to the breakfast table.
“Some are too far away for a walk, and Colonel and Mrs. Yeovil won’t be back from the seaside until next week.
That leaves Sir Arthur and Lady Manners, Miss Pennington, and, of course, Lady Huxley and Lord Ashbourne. ”
Lady Esher pronounced these last names rather reluctantly, having only included them because excluding them would be such a statement in such a wide guest list for such an important local event.
“Benedict will not be happy if those two do attend,” Damien noted unexpectedly, lowering his newspaper and looking to Lady Esher. “I hope they think better of it.”
Louisa supposed that Benedict must have told Damien about Lord Ashbourne’s odd past intentions towards her.
Loving his wife as he did, the Duke of Wexford imagined jealousies and ill-feeling where likely none existed.
Louisa’s betrothed had dealt smartly enough with Lady Huxley during that breakfast call but she had never heard Benedict speak of Lord Ashbourne since that day.
She herself had forgotten his existence until now.
“As do I,” Lady Esher replied to Damien, her expression somewhat cryptic to her niece’s eyes.
“Well, we will not call on them,” Louisa put in, thinking of how awkward she would find their presence, knowing now as she did of Lord Ashbourne’s strange past hopes. “Maybe they are busy, or have forgotten.”
“Maybe,” agreed Lady Esher affably. “Do call on Sir Arthur and Lady Manners when you’re out. They love children and will doubtless be happy to see you…Ah, Your Grace. We were just talking about the engagement party. There is fresh coffee in that pot there.”
Nodding his thanks, Benedict took the empty chair beside Louisa and the waft of cologne from his warm skin sent a bolt of searing longing straight to her belly.
She had anticipated and feared this next meeting since the moment she ran from him in the library last night, the magnetic pull between them then feeling so strong that she feared she could not break from it.
“Good morning, Lady Louisa,” the Duke of Northwick said rather formally, but with a friendly smile that gave her no real clue as to his deeper feelings.
“Good morning,” Louisa returned, hoping that no one would notice or speculate on her blushes.
Although Benedict swiftly moved on to making light conversation with Lady Esher and everyone else at the table, Louisa felt impossibly conscious of his presence beside her.
There was no way that she could keep the heat from rising in her face and it was all she could do not to squirm in her chair with the tingling disturbance running through her as soon as he sat down.
Did Benedict regret their encounter in the library? Or resent Louisa for running away? Just as importantly, had he read her book?
That last thought had disturbed her rest last night in equal measure to the others.
Louisa had lain awake for hours, hot and bothered, with the sensation of Benedict’s hands and lips still somehow on her skin, and his words still sounding within her, like a string vibrating to the pitch of a tuning fork..
I shall give you such pleasure as you have never dreamed… you will scream my name before I am done…
In the immediate aftermath of their embrace, Louisa had lain curled up on her bed, bewildered and almost whimpering with unbidden frustration. How did he bring her to this state? Why did she let him do it?
Louisa was under no illusions about her own role in their latest acts of impropriety. She had wanted and returned every kiss Benedict gave her last night and burned with pulsing fire when he lifted her in his arms. Stopping him when she did had taken every fibre of effort in her heart.
I want you, Louisa, and you want me. What is to stop us?
Louisa’s treacherous body had agreed with Benedict’s assertion, wanting only more of the delightful kisses and caresses he bestowed.
Yet how could she engage in such disrespectful acts under Aunt Beatrice’s roof?
How humiliating it would be to be discovered in real indecency, betrothed or not!
How frightening also to be so dazed with passion that she scarcely knew what she was doing…
She should never have gone downstairs to the library. She should never have challenged Benedict over her book. She certainly should not have pressed herself into his arms and welcomed his kisses.
Surreptitiously, Louisa glanced at Benedict as he took the letter that had been waiting for him on the tray and slipped it into his pocket without reading it, presumably recognizing the hand and not judging it urgent.
“Are you sure there is no one you wish to invite to the engagement party from London, Your Grace?” Lady Esher asked him. “There is still time to issue more invitations if it is done today or tomorrow.”
Benedict shook his head immediately, looking briefly to Louisa and seeming to smile at finding her eyes already upon him.
“No, a small wedding is best,” he replied. “It is what we both want and I have no family to consider. The only friends I would invite are already here. Let us keep things simple.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Benedict,” murmured Damien from behind his newspaper again.
“Fanny is determined that she will be a bridesmaid and Ezra will not want to be left out either. I hope that will be compatible with your thoughts on a small wedding?” Seraphine put in.
“Of course they must be part of the wedding,” Louisa replied immediately, reflecting that the children were the only people who might entirely enjoy the day.
“Ah, I have already told Fanny that she and her twelve dolls may all be bridesmaids,” admitted Benedict. “She seemed very determined indeed, and had a surprising number of thoughts on outfitting…”
Lady Esher laughed at this but then the door opened and Seraphine’s voice sounded, before any conversation could begin on bridesmaid dresses for the miniature bridesmaids.
“Yes, Gertie?”
“Your Grace, Lady Esher, the children wish to do some drawing this morning. I remembered that Your Ladyship mentioned an art room. Ought I to take them there or keep them in the nursery? We do have some crayons and scrap paper upstairs.”
“Oh, our old art room!” Seraphine exclaimed with pleasure. “Do you remember, Louisa? We used to draw and paint in there for hours. My favorite subjects were always fantastic animals, unicorns, griffins and so on. You were always drawing some adventure with Sir Benedict…”
Here, Seraphine stopped and covered her mouth with a laugh, seeing the heightened color and alarm on Louisa’s face.
Likely she imagined Louisa only a little embarrassed at the mention of her old obsession with a character who bore the same name as her future husband.
Louisa’s nervousness ran far deeper than that, however.
Why had Seraphine had to mention her old drawings now, when Louisa was already trying so hard not to imagine her beloved book in the real Benedict’s hands, her every youthful hope and dream in its pages open to his careless and cynical perusal?
He was not an unkind man who would mock her childish fantasies but privately, how silly he must think her.
“Everything is still in there, I believe,” Lady Esher spoke up.
“Even your old sketch books are probably on the shelf. Yes, Gertie, do take the children in there. Some art will occupy them until Seraphine and Louisa are ready to go out walking. It’s just next to the conservatory and the light is excellent in there at this hour. ”
“Let’s join Fanny and Ezra and look through our old sketch books,” Seraphine enthused, clapping her hands. “You have finished your breakfast, haven’t you, Louisa? We can leave the gentlemen with Aunt Beatrice.”
Louisa hesitated, not really wanting to revisit memories that must surely now be only painful. At the same time, this was an opportunity to politely leave the room and stop herself from compulsively glancing at Benedict and wondering what he was thinking.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Louisa agreed at last, standing up and dropping her napkin onto her plate. “I haven’t been in there for an age.”
As she left the room arm-in-arm with Seraphine, Louisa could not help one look back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting the blue and green gaze of the Duke of Northwick which had evidently been following her.
Although she turned quickly away, that single moment of non-physical contact sent a shock of thrilling unease through her body all over again.
“That’s not a dog!” laughed Fanny at her younger brother’s efforts with a brown crayon.
“It is a dog!” Ezra insisted crossly. “Mama, it’s a dog!”