Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Beth?”
“I’m okay,” she said, but her flat monotone sounded anything but okay.
Unease tightened his belly.
Surely she wasn’t that upset that he’d kissed her? She’d done a pretty good job of kissing him back.
Could she be this upset over him stopping kissing her?
“Beth, we had to stop. Coming up here wasn’t wise. I didn’t plan on the kiss happening, but it did. Now we need to do the right thing. This can’t be allowed to develop more.”
His firmly spoken words held a hint of impatience. How could she not understand? Stopping was the only honourable choice.
She didn’t reply, and her expression stayed hidden.
Part of him wanted to take her face in his hands and make her look at him. A bigger part of him recognised that the forbidding line of her straight back and the tight clench of her hands at her sides made it wiser not to.
Besides, with the neurochemicals roused by the kiss still running wild, even such an innocent touch wasn’t a good idea.
They reached the top of the stairs, and she stopped.
Of course, the stairs.
A bubble of relief expanded in his chest, lightening his concern.
Going back meant doing the stairs again. That was the problem. He should have figured it out sooner.
“You won’t have to do the stairs again. There’ll be a lift on this level.”
“I can do the stairs.” Her eyes stayed shuttered, giving no clues to her thoughts. Probably being tough with her fears.
“Let’s take the lift anyway. It will be faster.”
Her reply was a silent shrug.
It didn’t take much looking to find the elevator, tucked away near the entrance to the other walkway. “Over here.”
He pushed the button to summon the lift.
As she turned toward him, he glimpsed a shimmer of tears in her eyes, but she quickly rubbed them and assumed an unconvincing smile.
“Thank you. I agree going our separate ways is for the best. I’m more than ready to call it a night.”
Exactly what he wanted, to get away from the temptation to kiss her again and never stop.
Exactly what he didn’t want, to walk away from her.
Last time he had, to go on that climbing weekend, he hadn’t seen her for ten long years. He never wanted to experience that level of desolation again. Only his faith and his work had pulled him through.
But ending this disaster of a night made sense. He’d go meet her at the store tomorrow and God willing, they’d start over as if tonight hadn’t happened.
Wiser not to take her hand, no matter how much he wanted to, in case he offered her a lot more than comfort. He had as much willpower as the next man, but his reaction to her was like magnesium, ready to blaze into flame at the slightest heat.
While they were alone together, talking without touching was safer.
“How do you get home, the train?”
She nodded. “Main line north from Kings Cross.”
The elevator arrived and the doors opened. He stepped inside and held the door back for her. “I’ll get a cab for you.”
Predictably, she refused. “I can take the tube.”
But this seemed more than just her independent spirit. She’d gone from enthusiastically kissing him to not being able to get away from him fast enough.
Clearly, more than the stairs bothered her.
Regret heavier than the elevator counterweights pulled his shoulders to a slump. If Beth couldn’t respect his reasons for ending the kiss, she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
He pushed the button for the Ground Floor exit.
Panic crossed Beth’s face. “No. We left their present behind.” She jabbed at another button. “It’s still under that table I nearly demolished.”
So that was it.
The possible confrontation with Imogen had upset Beth, not him. It was hard not to burst into a victory yell and grin until his face ached.
Thank You God!
He wouldn’t be any happier if he solved the Yang-Mills equations or came up with a Grand Unified Theory of everything, the Holy Grail of physics.
Making things right with Beth meant more than anything in this world.
Chapter 12
Shame stung Beth’s eyes as she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Propping herself in the corner of the lift for support, she stood as far from James as possible, her gaze fixed on her feet.
If only she could run away.
The evening felt like a nightmare without an end. This humiliation went way beyond her embarrassment at disrupting the ceremony.
Letting down her resistance and ignoring common sense to kiss James with such abandon was a huge mistake.
Her kiss made no attempt to hide her feelings. She’d wanted to surrender, wanted to hope, wanted to discover if kissing James matched up to her dreams.
She’d wanted to show him how much she cared.
Then he pulled back, shattering her dream, showing it for what it was — delusion. Seemed tonight was just as much about closure for him as she’d thought it was for her.
Now, closure was the last thing she wanted.
But wanting changed nothing.
There didn’t seem any other way to interpret his words. After kissing her the way he did, to say he’d made a mistake?
Only one reason. Though he might be attracted to her, he agreed with what Imogen and his mother and her aunt said. A girl like her didn’t belong in his world. Proof, confirming her deepest fears. She wasn’t good enough for him.
And James was far too much the gentleman to lead her on.
Trying to fit in would cause problems with his family. Get her ostracised and bullied, the way she’d been at school. Damage James’s career. Safer to keep her world the way it was. Limited and loveless but far less hurtful.
She had to stop hoping.
Hoping things were different didn’t change the facts, despite the pounding of her pulses at his nearness and the imprint his lips left on hers. Getting away from him, while some tattered shreds of dignity and self-respect still clung to her, seemed the one solution left.
Otherwise, flinging herself at him and embarrassing herself even more was far too likely. In the close confines of the lift, his big solid presence and his subtle yet indefinably male odour couldn’t be ignored or escaped.
If not for the present, she’d escape his overwhelming effect sooner. But leaving a gift that special and that expensive lying around would be wrong, no matter how badly Imogen had behaved.
Changing herself into the right sort of girl for James was an unattainable goal. Making sure to do the right thing, to avoid giving him or anyone else anyone the excuse to think less of her, was not. Even if her heart cracked so loudly that James must hear it breaking.
Her delight and joy in those kisses mustn’t have touched him. Or if they did, they didn’t mean anything to him.
Not when he’d dismissed them so coolly.
It seemed Imogen had been right after all to tell her James only amused himself with Beth that summer, and wouldn’t keep in touch. Her spiteful laughter when she’d discovered Beth dreamed of a future with James and imagined he really did care for her still stung.
She’d been a fool to come tonight. A fool to let him kiss her and to kiss him back. A fool to let a rose of hope flower in her heart.
A sigh escaped her. She’d expected better of James, but her expectations seemed twice wrong.
His kiss avoided answering her question. Why didn’t he try to contact her, when they’d made her leave Tetherton Hall?
Going without saying goodbye hadn’t been her choice. Imogen accused her of theft, made sure to plant evidence, and got her sacked without notice.
No-one listened to the word of a mere housemaid. Not even her aunt.
They’d left her no alternative but to slink home to her parents’ house in disgrace.
If he’d cared, surely he’d have telephoned or emailed or written to her? Of course, he didn’t have any contact details, but someone as bright as him must know how to use Google.
That proved Imogen told the truth about one thing, if nothing else.
Like a hamster on a wheel, Beth’s mind went round and round, getting her nowhere.
She made the mistake of glancing up into James’s concerned eyes, and quickly looked away. Unfair that he looked so sweetly caring now, after practically saying they had no future.
Her tummy clenched as if it took a punch.
She knew she didn’t fit into his life. She knew she’d ruin his career prospects. She knew his parents would hate him being involved with her. She knew all too well that nothing should have happened between them, either ten years ago or now.
But somehow his implication that he agreed with that, when he had spent the evening trying to convince her otherwise, made it worse. Far worse.
Daring to let herself hope a little and dream a little meant it hurt far more. His cold statement that nothing more could happen between them dumped ice water on her overheated hopes.
Time to stop the pity party.
Getting over it was the only way forward.
“Don’t worry about Immy,” he said, pulling her out of her miserable thoughts. “In front of everyone, she won’t dare say anything unkind to you. She cares too much about what other people think.”
“I’m not worried.”
His raised eyebrow suggested he was well aware that wasn’t quite the truth.
A shrug was enough reply.
If he wanted to believe it was Imogen that bothered her and not his betrayal, let him. Explaining the truth would be far more embarrassing. No shame in a possible confrontation with Imogen being the teensiest bit unnerving.
At last the lift stopped at the right floor, and the doors opened with a ping.
Thank You for that Lord. Just help me get through the next half hour, please. I’ll worry about getting through tomorrow another day.
Her rush to the ceremony room, was as much to get away from James as from anxiety to collect the present. A couple of cleaners ambled around stacking the chairs, now plain without their drapery and ribbons.
The gift wrapped box still lay under the side table that looked far too small and spindly for the floral decoration it supported.
So far, only actually smashing the table in her skid across the floor could make the evening any worse. But she still needed to face Imogen.
And then say ‘Goodbye’ to James again, knowing this time it was goodbye for ever.
With an overly bright smile, she tuned to him and held up the present. “Here it is. Let’s go face the music.”
“And dance?” He raised a sweetly questioning eyebrow, as if nothing had happened.
Her heart gave a sick little quiver. Being held in his arms again as they twirled to music sounded such a gift from God. One last memory before they parted.
But why? If things weren’t going anywhere between them, it just prolonged the agony.
“I doubt we’d want to dance to Imogen’s tune.”
Making a joke of it helped.
“True.” Taking the heavy parcel from her, he smiled. “Let’s go find the reception. Getting in, leaving this, and getting out again out as fast as we can is the best plan.”
After some searching and help from a friendly security guard, they finally found the right place. It took a hike. The Engine Rooms, in one of the bridge supports way over the other side of the river, were nowhere near the room in the North Tower where the wedding ceremony took place.
Even wounded by James’s rejection, the designer in Beth still appreciated the industrial chic architecture of the unusual spaces under the bridge, and understood why Imogen chose it for a steampunk party.
Not her choice, if she ever married. Her dreams involved a quiet country wedding, in a pretty, flower filled, old village church.
No chance of that wedding ever happening.
Now she’d met James again, marrying anyone else became unimaginable.
She was not crying.
Squeezing her eyes shut because they stung a little, that’s all.
They made their way through a network of underground corridors to an arched roofed chamber. The huge wheels and apparatus of the Victorian steam-driven engines that once worked the drawbridge mechanism dominated.
A waiter holding a drinks tray was the only person in sight. But over the slow machinery hum, the purple lit room echoed with a spiky techno version of classical music, clapping, and foot stomping, coming from the far side of open double doors.
Beth grabbed a mineral water from the tray and gulped it down. The prospect of braving the wrath of Imogen and the critical gaze of all those guests, on top of what had happened with James, dried her mouth drier than a Sahara dust storm.
The well trained waiter didn’t even blink at their Halloween costume.
“Nice,” James said, looking around appreciatively. “If you like that sort of thing. But I can’t see anywhere to put this.” He held up the gift box.
“We’ll need to go find the party.” She pointed to the doors.
The waiter took her empty glass with a smile, and offered the tray to James. “Drink, sir.”
James shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you. We just want to leave our gift and go.”
“The gift table is in the Engineer’s Gallery. Through those doors.”
Nodding thanks, James turned to Beth with a smile. “Ready to beard the dragon in her lair?”
She took a deep breath and nodded back.
They walked through the wide doors together, then stopped dead.
The other guests lined the walls clapping to the driving beat of the music, while Imogen and Hugo took the floor with a show-stopping wedding dance.
They’d nearly blundered again, stopping just in time to avoid blocking the path of the cameraman filming it.
The spectacular and oh-so-obviously choreographed performance seemed to be a cross between a waltz and a Highland Fling, involving much circling around each other, foot stomping, raised crossed fists, and swirling of Imogen’s hooped skirt.
It as good as shouted. “Look at me, I’m the BRIDE!”
Or maybe that was uncharitable.
Beth bit her lip. More proof she didn’t measure up to the standards expected for James’s girlfriend. Anyone’s girlfriend.
One good thing about the stunning dance. It kept Imogen far too preoccupied to notice them, and most of the guests’ attention focused on the bride and groom.
Even so, being in the room full of elegantly dressed people when she looked such a mess made her want to shrivel. It confirmed what she already realised way too well.
She wasn’t good enough to fit into James’ world.
Fighting it and trying to change couldn’t alter the inescapable fact.
Chapter 13
The moment the dance ended, James snuck past the congratulatory friends surrounding Imogen and Hugo, and placed the present on the gift table. He doubted if she’d even notice another present, among the mountain of wrapped boxes.
Beth remained rooted near the door, her poised and rigid posture suggesting readiness to run.
No wonder, hearing the inane chatter surrounding them. Surely someone here had more to say than which of the other guests were related to which rich, famous, or titled person?
Or how much of a bonus their nanny demanded before she’d accompany them on their skiing trip to Switzerland this winter.
Or that their children’s school fees next term came to more than his annual salary as a professor, per child.
All focused on impressing others.
Look how wealthy I am. Look how well connected I am. Look what I can afford to spend.
Nothing about giving back or helping others. Nothing about making a difference. These people believed their money and privilege made them important.
If it mean
t snubbing anyone with less, or boasting the way these people did, he had no desire to live in their world.
Getting Beth out of here and somewhere quiet and undisturbed to talk was his biggest priority.
“Ready to go?”
Beth nodded her head, with a smile of relief.
But before they took two steps, Immy blocked their route to the door. The saccharine smile on her lips didn’t fool him a bit. Her eyes spoke a different message.
“I see you got my invitation, James.” Her voice sounded far too sweet. “Though you still didn’t bother making it to my wedding on time.”
When she turned to Beth, eyeing her up and down, he braced himself, ready to intervene. Immy could say what she liked to him, but he wouldn’t allow her to hurt his Beth.
Please Lord, don’t let her say or do anything.
Despite his prayer, Immy had free will. Who knew what she might say?
Beth straightened beside him, lifting her chin.
To his surprise Immy merely raised her eyebrows and laughed. “I think the score is even now.” She walked away.
Beth sagged, eyes closed and a little scrunched up. As if something pained her. Yet Immy had just proven how childish her grudge had been. It wasn’t worth a second thought.
Reaching for her arm, he smiled. “That went better than I expected. Now we can escape.”
She pulled back, brows lowered, lips pursed. As if she wasn’t ready to leave. A minute before, he’d been sure she wanted to bolt out the door.
The music changed to a dance tune with a driving disco beat and breathy vocals. An expression mingling determination with a wistful smile twisted Beth’s face, as she swayed in time to the song. Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed his hands.
“How about that dance you suggested? Just one, then we’ll go.”
“Of course. But be warned, I’m out of practice. To be honest, I never was in practice.”
He got the feeling the dance might have more to do with proving a point to Immy than anything else. No matter. If Beth wanted to dance, they’d dance.
Though he was nearly as uncoordinated on the dance floor as it was possible to be. And he’d best not hold her close, the way he longed to.
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 8
