She shook her head again. As if he could scandalise her further.
Chapter Four
Miss Manners says...
Gloves should be worn at all times except when at the dinner table. It is not appropriate to have skin to skin contact with the opposite sex unless they are your family or husband. If you have gained a husband, well done. I imagine you do not need to be reading my column anymore. My dear readers, gloves were made for a purpose, ensure that you remember that.
By the time Angelina had joined their party, most were heading out of the door. The order of the day was ice-skating. Not Benedict’s favourite sport but he welcomed the opportunity to escape the castle for a while. The evening had passed slowly and he’d barely had a chance to talk to Angelina. Nor had he been able to speak with Fairfax about his business venture. He was beginning to suspect this was going to be an utter waste of time.
Not so much if he managed to get under Angelina’s skin, however. His idea of concentrating wholly on business had flown out the window when he’d found her in the Great Hall. Bloody hell, just the sight of her, all alone and vulnerable in the middle of that huge room had fired his blood. Not that he’d take advantage but he couldn’t help imagine all the things they could do on that marble floor.
For whatever reason, she truly believed she was this Miss Manners character. It was all a damned act, he was convinced of it and, business or not, he really, really wanted to find the woman beneath it all. Beautiful, vivacious and outrageous Angie had to be in there somewhere.
However, there was no sign of her now. Wrapped in a long fur-lined coat in a pale blue colour with matching gloves and hat, she was far from the wild young thing he’d known. Yes, she still managed to look stunningly attractive but the way the long coat was cut hid what he knew to be a spectacular figure and the colour did her no justice. She should be back in red or bold purple. Something that made her stand out against the snow. Angelina had never been designed to be a wallflower.
He waited for her as the rest of the party made their way out of the front door. The women, with the exception of the marchioness, mostly ignored her. Benedict wasn’t a fool. He knew why. Memories were long and she’d always be known as the girl who’d been ruined and rejected. The tight bunching of his gut reminded him who was responsible.
Yes, damn it, he knew. Didn’t need his conscience reminding him every two minutes.
“Good morning, Benedict. I didn’t see you at breakfast.”
No, and he well knew it. She had eaten earlier than he, much to his annoyance. Probably in a bid to avoid everyone but there was no snubbing the skating outing. She dangled a pair of skates from one hand and offered him that serene smile that he was beginning to hate. So false, so...unAngie-like. He wanted to see one of those wide grins she used to give Robert that made him feel like tearing apart a whole ballroom because the grin wasn’t directed at him.
What a fool he’d been.
Perhaps today, he’d make her smile. Maybe once she was on the ice she’d beam at him like she did when she was dancing. He managed to offer her a smile in return. Maybe today would not be a complete bore.
“It is quite cold out today and very slippery. If you need to hang onto me, I won’t mind one bit.” He extended an arm but she simply raised a brow and ignored him before striding out the door.
A laugh burst from him when she nearly skidded down the steps but somehow managed to right himself. She glared at him while he clamped his lips together. He stepped out a little more gingerly than she had while she watched him avidly, no doubt hoping he would take a tumble and land on his arse.
Angelina strode ahead and he moved to keep pace with her. A good couple of inches had fallen overnight and snow crunched underfoot. Pristine whiteness covered the land, broken only by the occasional human or animal footprint. Evidence of foxes and some brave birds cracked the smooth layer.
Apparently Angelina hadn’t taken note of the various footprints as she began to make her way down the slope toward the oak trees. Benedict caught the end of her scarf and tugged lightly, forcing her to stop and whirl.
“What is it?”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. She really did loathe him. He couldn’t fathom why he was trying to convince her to feel anything but hatred for him. After all, he could hardly win her over in the short time they had left together.
“The lake is this way.” He pointed to the right, past the trees.
She gave a small humph sound and went to snatch the end of the scarf back from him. Benedict tightened his grip on the wool. He couldn’t help himself.
Her eyes widened again. “Benedict,” she said in warning.
“That’s better.” Even said in annoyance, he loved the sound of his name on her lips.
“Let go of my scarf please.”
He gave another tiny tug and the depth of the snow meant she spilled forward. Releasing the scarf, he gripped her arms and held her upright—but close. So very close. Her lashes rose slowly, hesitantly. He felt her breath flutter over his neck.
If he shifted just a little, he’d have her flat against him. They might be wearing thick coats and gloves but that wouldn’t prevent him from being aware of every inch of her body. The frigidness of the air melted away when her gaze met his. Heat surged through him and his pulse pounded through his skull. Do it, do it, do it, it said.
He did not need to stop and ask what that voice meant. He knew well enough. Kiss her, the slight rustle of wind through trees whispered. Do it, the voice told him. It didn’t seem to matter to any of these ghostly voices that he hadn’t seen her in years or that she hated him or that he had harmed her in the worst way possible. Actually, none of these things mattered to him either.
Benedict stared into her eyes and lowered his mouth. Her lashes fluttered down again as she eyed his lips. Her own mouth parted. The warmth inside him flared hotter than melted steel. He closed the gap.
“Benedict!” She stiffened and tugged against his grip. “Whatever are you doing?”
The moment shattered like breaking ice. He gulped and dropped her arms as if scalded by her. Damn those voices, damn his idiocy. Of course she did not want to be kissed. Those signs had been purely his imagination. What on earth would make him think she wanted anything from him?
“Just...” His lips were dry from wanting. He tried again. “Just keeping you warm.”
The excuse was meant to come out charming, maybe even rakish. Most women would have giggled and given him a playful tap on the arm. But not Angelina. She gave him a withering stare and every ounce of heat inside vanished. Yes, Angelina Ashdown hated him, there was no denying that. She’d loathed him then, always avoiding him and never talking to him and she loathed him now. And trying to kiss or flirt with her was never going to change that.
He’d be better off forgetting her and the effect she had on him and securing Fairfax’s backing. Then he could bury himself in work and perhaps a few beautiful widows too. He had several who would happily take him in on any evening.
Benedict took a step back and motioned down the slope. “Shall we?”
She gave him a fleeting look. One that he had to be reading wrong because he could have sworn he’d seen disappointment in it. He shook his head to himself and continued on, keeping one step behind her. Unfortunately, being able to watch her trudge determinedly through the snow did nothing to reassure him that he could return home and forget her. The truth was, he had never forgotten her. No matter how many meaningless flings he’d had with women, no matter how many beds he’d slept in, he couldn’t forget her.
Couldn’t forget what he’d done to her. He supposed a meaningless existence was the price he’d have to pay for his sins. Soon enough, the pressure to marry would fall upon him and he’d have to wed some appropriate but dull woman. Perhaps children would be nice but he didn’t think he would ever stop picturing what it would have been like to have little golden-haired, amber-eyed girls. Really, he pitied whoever had to marry him as none could liv
e up to her.
Benedict forced his gaze to the nearby blackberry bushes and watched a robin flit from branch to branch. The creature knocked down a little shower of snow before flying off. He half-envied him. As soon as he’d realised Angelina was a guest here, he should have flown from here. Business or not, the last thing he needed was to refresh every moment of agony as he’d watched her dance with other men, then flirt with them, then become engaged to his closest friend. The pain of them being together had clouded every judgement of his. Fool that he was, he could not see either his friend or Angelina happy.
Richard might have moved on and been blissfully wed but he couldn’t say the same for Angelina. If he’d stopped to think of the consequences of his foolish actions, he might have realised Angelina would be forever ruined and cast from the social circles they shared. He’d lose her in the worst way possible. Far worse than her marrying his friend and being happy for the rest of her days because now he had to live with the guilt of knowing he’d created this uptight version of her, this woman who had lost everything she’d known and was now living the only way she knew how.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, as if she knew what he was thinking but as far as he knew, she had no idea he’d been responsible for Richard calling off their engagement. To her, he was merely his rakish friend, who could never even bring himself to say a word to her. To her, he was the opposite of everything she now believed in. Miss Manners would never fall for a rake but if she knew the truth, she would likely refuse to even be in the same room as him.
Flashes of colour broke up the monotonous white. The lake came into view, spread out over a large distance in an irregular shape. Several figures skimmed across the icy surface while a few others moved more gingerly. When they neared, he saw that the marquess and marchioness, along with a few of the older members of the party were settled on chairs and wrapped in blankets clasping cups of what was most likely mulled wine or warm sherry.
“Oh, Mr Sutherland is here.”
Sharp claws of jealousy raked down his insides at her bright tone. He peered at the man who was a few years older than them but not yet old enough to sit on the side-lines. He appeared to be deep in conversation with one of the Carlton daughters. Benedict had not spent much time with Oliver Sutherland, although they tended to attend the same events. Sutherland had a bit of a reputation for being a bore and was forever talking about frogs and lizards or something. His interest in such ugly creatures always baffled Benedict.
“Yes, he arrived late last night apparently. Something to do with a broken carriage wheel.”
“Oh dear,” said Angelina as though she were sympathising with the man herself. Her gaze didn’t leave him as they approached their hosts.
Benedict did not like her tone one bit.
The marquess lifted his cup in greeting. “About time you joined us.”
“Forgive my lateness,” Benedict said, settling on the chair next to him. “I had a letter or two to write.”
“This is the festive season. Surely you’re not attending to business now?”
He saw Angelina glance his way as she engaged the marchioness in conversation. The slight rise of one brow told him she could hardly believe he was attending to business either. It wasn’t surprising. His reputation as a rake had unfortunately slipped over into his professional life. Was he on a fool’s errand, fishing for Fairfax’s support?
“Just a few things I needed to see to. I have several investments that are taking up a lot of my time at present.”
“Chasing after new money, eh?”
Benedict shook his head. “Not chasing, my lord. I never chase.”
“Unless it’s a beautiful woman!”
The marquess chuckled and Benedict feigned his own laugh but he couldn’t help but be aware of Angelina’s glance over and that slight hint of disappointment yet again. He really did hate to disappoint her. If only he could prove himself better...
No, that wasn’t his intention this Christmas. He turned his full attention on the marquess.
“I don’t have to chase them either,” he drawled. There—let her fully disapprove of him. Her hatred for him would at least force his attention to where it belonged. “You must admit, my lord, that industry and invention is the future of this country. That is what I pursue.”
“Invention? I didn’t take you for an inventor. What have you come up with then?”
No one did. No one realised he had any thoughts other than that of bedding as many women as possible. When he’d been younger, that had been true. All until... well, Angelina. After that, his ritual of taking women to bed with him on a regular basis had all been for one thing and one thing only—to forget her.
“I cannot say too much but it addresses some of the issues with heating grand homes like yours. I hope we get the chance to discuss it more fully at some point.”
Fairfax applauded one of the men as they whizzed past.
“Very intriguing,” Lord Fairfax commented. “Now, are you going to show us what has all those ladies going weak at the knees? I’m assuming you’re a fine skater.”
Benedict would far rather be sitting, speaking with him at present but it looked as though he would not get the chance until at least tonight when they retreated for brandies.
He chuckled. “I have never had any complaints.”
A snort issued from Angelina’s direction. Colour grazed her cheeks but she ducked her head and made a show of tying the laces of her skates.
“It seems Miss Ashdown does not believe your boast, Lord Calderton,” the marchioness said with a sly smile.
“Oh no,” Angelina protested. “That’s not what—”
“You shall have to prove her otherwise. Why do you not skate together?”
Angelina shook her head. “I’m a poor skater. I shall only slow Lord Calderton down.”
“Well, even more reason for Lord Calderton to help you. I am sure you can teach her a thing or two, can you not?” The marchioness directed her gaze at Benedict and he knew he had no choice.
But what he didn’t know was whether to be grateful or annoyed. Benedict finished tying his skates and stood, offering his hand to Angelina. She slid her fingers into his palm and he took a moment to admire her blue kid gloves against his own black ones. There was something thrilling about seeing those slender fingers positioned so perfectly against his. Part of him longed to draw off those gloves and kiss her fingertips before pressing them...well, pressing them against his already aching cock to be frank.
When he glanced into her eyes, he saw confusion, maybe a little fear. He might have given himself away but he doubted she had any idea quite how lurid his imaginings were. If she knew, she’d likely run for the hills.
“Shall we?”
“Of course,” she said tightly.
Together, they moved awkwardly through the snow to the lake edge. He stepped gingerly onto the ice and allowed himself a moment to get used to the natural slip of the skates. Ridges were already scarred into the surface, created no doubt by local children sneaking onto the land. Angelina followed suit and let loose a gasp when she nearly tumbled. He gripped her hand tight and helped steady her.
“Easy,” he warned.
“I’m not a horse,” she snapped. “I won’t bolt.”
“Won’t you?” He let his lips curl in amusement.
He saw her throat work above her scarf. She was nervous. But of the ice or him?
“I will not let you hurt yourself.”
“I suppose you think I should trust you?”
She’d be right not to. But he had changed. He longed to show her that. “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.
Her throat moved again and she relaxed a little. Benedict drew her along until she found the rhythm. “You used to skate a lot.”
“I haven’t had much time for skating as of late.”
“Miss Manners keeping you busy?”
He eased her around until they were side-by-side. To onlookers, they could be lovers. D
amn, how he wished they were. But onlookers wouldn’t see the tension in her body or the way her gaze kept skipping over to Sutherland.
Did she like him? He could hardly believe Angelina would be interested in a stuffy man obsessed with frogs—at least not the Angelina he’d known. She never passed up the opportunity to skate or dance or have fun. Looking at amphibians was certainly not her idea of fun. But perhaps she really had changed and he was wrong.
Benedict supposed he might be able to find out.
“My work keeps me busy, yes.”
“You have done well for yourself.”
“You’ve read my column?”
“Well...no...”
“No, I do not suppose manners are of particular interest to you.”
“Come now, I am not so boorish am I?”
“Not when you don’t wish to be, no.” She gave a slanted smile.
Blasted woman was referring to his seductions. He had not a hope in hell of persuading her he was different.
Benedict drew her around the curve of the lake, away from the others and out of sight. The trees at the edge of the lake provided ample cover. Angelina snatched her hand from his. “What are you doing?”
She wavered and found her balance as he skated backward toward the bank.
With what he knew to be a wicked grin, he dipped down and grabbed a handful of snow before wadding it into a ball.
“Don’t you dare, Benedict.”
There it was again—his name. He’d have to keep making threats if it began to break down those stiff barriers of hers. He drew back his arm, grin still in place. Angelina lifted her arms. “I mean it.”
He tossed the ball harmlessly away and she shot a daggered look at him. “You are a tease.”
“Am I really?”
He bent to grab another handful of snow. He didn’t really intend to throw any at her, not when she was unsteady on her feet, but he rather liked the way a tiny smile was beginning to quirk on her lips. As he rose, a flash of something zipped towards him and he staggered from the hit.
“Devil take it.”
Snow slipped down underneath his scarf and he shuddered. He turned his attention to Angelina. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 60
