“Talking of etiquette,” the marquess interrupted, waving a newspaper in her direction, “your latest column is quite fascinating, even for someone like myself!”
“What does it say, dear?” the marchioness asked.
“Oh no, my lady, I’m sure we do not need to hear,” Angelina protested.
“It seems Miss Manners was set a challenge.” A smile quirked the man’s moustache and Angelina seemed to shrink into the chair a little.
Was she really so ashamed of her writing?
The marquess proceeded to read the challenge. As he read on, Benedict’s heart began to grow heavy.
“...I am sure many a man is considering the worth of a wife. I highly anticipate the announcement of your own engagement by the start of the New Year.” The marquess flashed a grin in their direction. “What a shame we did not know of this challenge, Miss Ashdown. We could have helped you get that engagement.”
Benedict stared at Angelina for what felt like a full ten minutes. Colour made her cheeks almost scarlet. She opened her mouth then clamped it shut before darting a devastated look at him.
So she’d been after an engagement. Was this why she’d suddenly decided she loved him?
“I-I can’t believe they printed it. I did not know they would.”
“I suppose you thought your secret would be safe then,” he muttered.
“No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Oh well, Miss Ashdown,” said the marquess, “I don’t suppose many people shall be reading it. Too close to the festive season.”
Benedict’s skin grew hot. “Was this some sort of revenge perhaps?” he said in a low voice.
“No, of course not. Benedict, I love you, I wasn’t—”
He couldn’t stand to hear the words, not with the taint of that mocking letter ringing in his ears. He stood swiftly. “If you’ll excuse me, I realised I forgot to write an urgent letter.” He dropped a quick bow and left the room.
When he glanced back, she didn’t follow. Should he be disappointed or relieved? But when he reached the midway point on the stairs, a door banged and delicate footsteps echoed across the marble. He continued on, his heart hammering in his chest until he reached his bedroom door.
“Benedict,” Angelina called before he could open it. He paused and eyed his fingers wrapped around the doorknob. He could go into his room and hide like a terrified little boy or he could confront her and find out the gruesome details of her plan. Really, he didn’t want to know, but he was no coward.
Slowly, he released the doorknob and turned to face her. Cheeks flushed, she raced to him and gripped his good arm.
“I love you. You must believe me.”
“I’m not sure I can. How long have you known about this challenge?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. Damn her for looking beautiful. Even now with red cheeks and slightly shiny skin, she made him want to draw her close and make her his. How he had longed for the day when he put that ring on her finger in front of the world and take her to bed as his wife. Now only bitterness rose up in his throat when he thought how close he’d come to being tricked.
“I came here because of the challenge.”
“So you intended to find a husband.”
“Yes.” Her lashes lifted and she fixed that all-too-enchanting gaze on him.
“I suppose you thought it would be amusing to gain my affections. Perhaps you would cast me aside shortly after you had proved your point.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, of course not. I thought you hated me, remember? I never considered you might want me in any way.”
“Then...” He pinched the bridge of his nose when realisation struck. “Oliver.”
Angelina grimaced. “Yes. He had suggested marriage a few times before. Thought we would make quite the practical couple. I’d hoped he might consider it again.”
Jealousy raked ragged fingernails down his insides. “Do you love him?”
“No.”
“So you were willing to marry a man you didn’t love because of a ridiculous challenge?”
“I was willing to do it for my job. I have no other livelihood. You cannot understand what it is like to be alone in the world.”
“You’re not alone. What of your brother?”
“My brother has vast gambling debts. He simply cannot support me.”
“I didn’t know,” he said quietly.
“No one does. I think our family has weathered enough scandal already.”
The heat inside him began to disperse but he couldn’t shake the doubt. Perhaps he had some kind of understanding of the lengths to which she might go to protect her livelihood but...
“I imagine when Oliver proposed to Elizabeth, you found my confession to be well-timed.”
She shook her head frantically. “I had little intention of going through with my idea of pursuing Oliver. I quickly realised what a foolish idea it was. Before he proposed. And before you told me—” Her voice cracked.
“I loved you,” he finished solemnly.
“I am sorry, you must believe that.”
He twisted from her, spotting the pain in her eyes before he turned. “I bared my soul to you, Angie. I would have hoped you could be honest with me too.”
“But, Benedict, how could I be? What we had was so tentative. I still wasn’t sure...I mean, you were always such a rake. What if you changed your mind?”
The words ripped at his gut. “You really thought that of me?” he said gruffly. “I thought just as I knew you better, you knew me better.”
“Benedict, please, listen to me,” she begged when he began to move away. “I never thought any of this would be an issue. I didn’t know my editor would publish that nonsense. I was fully prepared to give up my job for you.”
Benedict whirled on her. “And I gave up my ambitions for you, it seems, but for what purpose?” His skin burned with anger, his nostrils flared. What a fool he’d been. For years, he’d longed for her and now she’d played him for the sake’s of some ridiculous challenge from a bitter spinster.
Angelina shrank back as he took a step forward.
“I came here to gain Fairfax’s patronage, to ensure the future of the estate and thus the future of my tenants. To think what I could have achieved without you as a distraction. I seriously regret that I was so distracted with a lie, Angelina.”
“Benedict—”
“Enough,” he snapped. “I spent ten years being distracted by you. I have had enough. I am weary and tired of not feeling good enough for Miss Manners.”
He stepped close until they were almost touching. He lifted a hand, the temptation to touch her one last time making his fingers flex. She tilted her head a little as if intending to press her cheek to his palm but he snatched it away quickly and fisted his hand at his side.
“No longer. No longer will I be plagued by you. I wish you the best for your future, Miss Ashdown, but let me assure you I will not be made a fool of anymore. Good day to you.”
Before she could say anything, he stormed into his room and slammed the door shut.
He’d always known he wasn’t good enough for her. At least now he could finally close the door on them. She knew his truths and he knew hers. They would continue on as before, but he wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of forever loving her. It was a blessing really. Now, all he needed to do was persuade himself that he really didn’t love her.
Chapter Eleven
Miss Manners says...
My dear readers, as most of you know I was challenged by Miss Disappointed to find a husband before New Year’s. As you will also know, I failed. It was put to me that the art of etiquette no longer has a place in modern society. I will have to admit that I agree with this reader—to a point. Etiquette has a place in every part of society. We should all be civil to one another and remember our manners. However, during the course of the festive season I have come to learn that there is a difference between being polite and living under a façade, something which
can do more damage than good.
You see, my dears, I have been doing just that for some time. It might surprise you to know that I was once not at all well-mannered. I spoke loudly, spoke my own mind, danced and flirted with men and generally behaved in a way that, while true to myself, was not seen as acceptable. I saw that behaviour as my downfall and I hoped to save other girls from the same fate.
I see now that whilst my advice was well-intentioned, I should have been encouraging my readers to be themselves. Yes, etiquette has its place but not when it is dictating women’s lives. For too long, I have been crushed under the burden of this character I have created and I am deeply sorry to say that I added to the heavy pressure most young girls already have upon them.
You may wonder what it was about this challenge that made me awaken to this realisation. I suppose I must thank Miss Disappointed because were it not for her, I would not have considered taking the steps I did. During the festive season, I discovered that there was a man who loved me deeply—and I loved him in return. I found out that it was the woman underneath the manners that he adored. And I began to like myself once more.
Unfortunately, I cannot say I like myself all that much now because I hurt that man most deeply by not being honest with him. Fear, as it has done for most of my life, kept me silent on the matter of this challenge and it cast doubt into his heart. I cannot blame him but I will say this; I’m grateful to him for showing me that I can be more than an empty shell of manners and grace. That I should not be ashamed of who I am, because the girl under Miss Manners’ starched petticoats is fun and loving and kind. It might be of little comfort to him to know this, but I fully intend to embrace her once more.
So, my dears, I hope if you have learned anything from me it’s that mistakes happen. Sometimes they will not be forgiven. What you must remember is to be true to yourself and fight for what you believe in, regardless of how society sees you.
Yours most lovingly,
Miss Angelina Ashdown, formerly Miss Manners.
The paper shook a little in his hands. Benedict glanced at his butler, whose expression remained entirely placid. He knew better, though. He’d been a bear to live with since his return from Fairfax and the gossip that had followed him had been enough to tell his servants why.
He hadn’t seen Angelina since that last day together. Having eaten in his room, he caught the early train as planned and buried himself back into getting the plans for his new radiator design ready for when the marquess came to town.
Flicking closed the paper that had been conveniently left open on that page, he picked up his cup of coffee and drew in the rich aroma. His stomach grumbled in protest. The truth was, not even his favourite beverage appealed. Nothing had since he’d lost Angelina.
She loved him. But he’d known that, had he not? He supposed so, but they’d only had a few short days together, aware of their love for one another. It was hardly enough time for him to be secure in the knowledge. After all, he’d loved her for nigh on a decade. How could she love him and not tell him the truth?
He lowered the cup and drew in a breath to quell the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. How could he love her and do what he did? He had to acknowledge his actions were far worse.
And yet she’d somehow forgiven him.
Benedict had ruined her future, driven her onto this path. He was entirely responsible for the creation of Miss Manners and were it not for him, she would not have been so desperate to even consider such a foolish idea to save her job. Yes, he wished she had told him the truth before he had discovered it himself but now she was punishing herself for one silly decision. What would she do if she wasn’t Miss Manners any longer? A woman in the newspaper industry would hardly have many options.
He stood abruptly, almost knocking the chair over in his haste. Glancing once more at the column, he nodded to himself.
“Burnley, have the carriage made ready, please.”
The butler nodded and Benedict caught the slightest hint of a smug smile on his face before he left. Damn the man.
Benedict made his way to his bedroom and ensured he was impeccably groomed while the carriage was made ready. He tugged his waistcoat straight and eyed his reflection. He only hoped Angelina still liked what she saw.
“Your carriage is ready, my lord.”
“Thank you, Burnley. I’m not sure when I shall be back so tell cook not to worry about supper.”
“Of course.”
If all went well, he had every intention of sweeping her off and marrying her without hesitation. He’d take her to Gretna Green if he had to.
The streets of London were relatively clear of snow, thanks to the high traffic. Ruts of slushy snow ensured the carriage took no longer than usual to reach the newspaper office. He ordered the driver to wait and wasted no time in entering the large sandstone building. A young office clerk, with his sleeves rolled up and ink stains on his fingers, greeted him from behind a desk in the entrance hall.
“Is Miss Ashdown...uh...Miss Manners here?”
The man shook his head. “I haven’t seen her for weeks.” The lad peered up at him over his spectacles. “Is this about the letter? I’ve been receiving notes about it all day. I suspect Mr Jeffries will want her back after the buzz it’s caused.”
“So you haven’t seen her?”
He shook his head. “The letter was sent in by post along with her resignation. I know because I was the one who opened it. I’ll probably be sent to chase her down and ask her to come back now,” he said with a sigh. “Wish Mr Jeffries would make up his mind.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
The lad narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not sure I should be telling you that, sir.”
Benedict pushed a hand through his hair. “That man she is talking about in that letter is me. We spent the festive season together and I was the one who loved her for who she was. Now, will you tell me where she is or not? I have little time to waste.”
The man eyed him for several moments before lifting a shoulder in resignation. “She lives on Randolph Avenue, number four.”
“Thank you.”
Before Benedict turned away, the clerk called, “Tell her Mr Jeffries will likely want to see her. Everyone is talking about you two.”
He nodded briefly and strode out of the building. Giving directions to the driver, he climbed into the carriage and tapped his hand impatiently against his thigh. Without the Christmas decorations adorning the streets, the slushy snow did nothing but make the city appear grim. Pedestrians hurried along, huddled under their thick winter coats and hats. Tempers frayed as drivers bellowed at one another in annoyance and sprays of dirty water splattered the sides of vehicles and the occasional furious passer-by.
It took too long to make it to the other side of London, too long to get to Angelina. By the time he was there, a little dampness sat on his brow and he felt as though every effort to appear handsome and well-groomed had been futile.
He straightened his hair, dabbed his brow with a hanky and placed on his hat as he stepped out and eyed the tiny townhouse. Considering how big her brother’s estate was, this house was quite the step down for Angelina. He shook his head to himself. How selfish he’d been. Angelina had fought hard to survive. So many in her position would have failed, maybe resorting to marrying an elderly man for protection or even ending up on the streets. But not Angelina.
Holding a breath in his chest, he pulled the bell and listened to it echo through the house. He peered up at the windows. Was she in there, hiding from him perhaps? He shifted from foot to foot and waited. And waited.
He pulled the bell again and rapped on the door. “Angelina?”
Nothing. Either she wasn’t in or she had no wish to see him. He wouldn’t blame her, but he at least needed to say his piece. He couldn’t let her think he still held a grudge.
“Angelina,” he bellowed, giving the door another rap with his knuckles.
“What the bleeding ‘ec
k is all this racket?”
Benedict peered around to find an elderly woman had popped her head out of the window of the house next to Angelina’s.
“Forgive me, I’m looking for Miss Ashdown.”
“Well, you can bang all you like, mister, but she’s ain’t in. Saw her packing her trunks this morning. Said she was off to the train station.”
“Do you know which one?”
The woman lifted a shoulder. “I hardly felt it was my place to ask. She was in a rush. Shame too, she was a nice quiet neighbour. No doubt she’ll be replaced with some noisy lout.”
Panic gripped him. “She’s moving out?”
“Aye, to her brothers she said the other day. Not sure why. Some fuss with her job or something.”
“Right.” He turned to leave and paused, remembering his manners. “Thank you. Good day to you.”
Angelina’s neighbour said something else but he didn’t catch it. “To Paddington,” he told his driver.
If she was heading to Oxford to her brother’s estate, she’d have to catch the train at Paddington. He only hoped she hadn’t left yet. His heart vibrated wildly in his chest. He could always catch the next train and be there before nightfall. It wasn’t like he would never see her again.
And yet, he needed to get to her as soon as possible. He couldn’t go any longer being apart from her and couldn’t let her believe he would never forgive her. Angelina might have thought she had hidden that girl she once was but the fact was, only the old Angelina could have forgiven him so easily and let him into her heart. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been so open. What a fool he was.
The train station likely only took fifteen minutes by carriage. It felt longer. Carriages and hacks filled the road outside while they waited for the passengers to depart and embark. He had to push his way through a crowd to get into the metal structure that was Paddington. Wide iron beams spanned the curved roof and noise echoed about the space. The hiss of steam filled his ears and the scent of coal soot lingered everywhere.
Benedict paused to purchase a ticket, having spotted a ticket master at the entrance to the platform. He hardly knew what he’d purchased and hardly cared, thrusting it in the man’s face before stepping onto the platform.
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