“Oh.” Lady Bethany smiled at him with delight, her radiance so bright he could scarcely breathe. “I think an outing to the castle ruins would be a marvelous way to spend the day.”
Pleased with the knowledge that he’d lifted her spirits, he smiled to himself as they kept on walking.
Careful, a faint voice warned, reminding him that regardless of how much she’d started mattering to him, she wasn’t and never would be his.
Carriages kept on arriving throughout the day, bringing additional guests to Langdon. Hiding her discomfort over Robert's absence beneath a forced smile, Bethany greeted each person with the help of her parents, acutely aware of the fact that she was meeting some of these people for the very first time. Robert really should have been there to make introductions, a sentiment that was voiced not only by her mother for what had to be the millionth time, but by Mr. Townsbridge's family as well. And every time a newly arrived guest inquired about Robert's whereabouts and she explained the circumstances, she was met with wide-eyed dismay.
“I shall have to have a word with him when he gets here,” Robert's mother, the Marchioness of Darlington, said when she and her husband arrived. “This is completely unacceptable and so very unlike him. You poor dear. Of all the things to put you through.”
Bethany appreciated the sympathy even though she'd already accepted the situation for what it was. She no longer felt any anger or disappointment, only numbness and a strange detachment from reality.
“Not to worry,” Lady Darlington said as she took Bethany's hands between her own as if to impart solidarity. “We are ready to help in any way we can.”
“Thank you.”
The marchioness smiled at her warmly, then slid her gaze toward Bethany's mother. “Shall we see to it that an informal tea is served on the terrace so proper introductions can be made?”
Bethany’s mother nodded, excused herself to Bethany and walked away with the marchioness.
“A lady's ability to manage a household is something to be admired,” the marquess mumbled.
“They're rather like generals, overseeing an army of servants,” Bethany's father said.
The marquess nodded his agreement, and the two men fell into conversation while gradually moving away from the door.
A new carriage arrived and Bethany glanced in her father's direction only to find that his back was now turned toward her as he listened to what the marquess was saying.
With a sigh, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and raised her chin in defiance.
“Care for some company?” Mr. Townsbridge's smooth voice inquired. The hair at the nape of her neck responded. Her skin tingled with heightened awareness on account of his closeness. A delicious kind of warmth caressed her skin, and her stomach began to flutter.
“Yes please,” she said, even though she knew she shouldn’t be encouraging him to spend time with her. He was merely being polite, and she ought to have had the sense to decline. “I don't know who this is,” she told him in reference to the young man presently alighting from the carriage. “If you can help, I'd appreciate it.”
Mr. Townsbridge stepped forward and as he did so, his shoulder brushed against hers. The superfine wool of his jacket scraped over her skin, and a frisson raced down the length of her arm. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and clasped her hands together, willing the feeling to pass.
“That is Mr. Hewitt,” Mr. Townsbridge murmured close to her ear. His breath caressed the edge of her jaw, coaxing every cell in her body to respond. “He is another close friend of Robert’s.”
Unable to speak for fear of sounding too breathy, Bethany nodded and took a step forward, away from Mr. Townsbridge’s virile masculinity. It would, she hoped, appear to him as though she was simply going to greet Mr. Hewitt, when in fact she was trying to escape the longing he stirred in her heart and her soul.
The newly arrived guest doffed his hat in greeting. “Lady Bethany, I presume?’
She inclined her head. “Welcome to Langdon House, Mr. Hewitt.”
“Thank you, my lady. I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who has captured Langdon’s heart.” Mr. Hewitt’s gaze shifted to Mr. Townsbridge. “Charles. Good to see you again.” The men shook hands, and when Hewitt asked about Robert, Mr. Townsbridge casually explained the situation to him. Mr. Hewitt’s eyebrows rose. “I see.” A grin appeared on his angular face. “If it wasn’t for the fact that the invitation listed him as the groom, I’d have thought the two of you were the ones getting married.”
“Really?” Bethany squeaked.
Mr. Hewitt’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, you are standing here on the front step greeting the guests together.” His expression grew pensive, but rather than say anything further, he shook his head as if trying to dislodge his thoughts. “Clearly you are well acquainted already, which is just as it should be. I’ve always been of the opinion that making sure one’s wife gets along well with one’s friends is vitally important to one’s continued happiness.”
“You speak as though you have plans of matrimony yourself,” Mr. Townsbridge murmured.
Mr. Hewitt laughed. “Not yet, my friend, but who knows? Perhaps I shall meet an enticing lady here. If I recall, your sisters are—”
“Hewitt…” Mr. Townsbridge’s voice held a note of warning.
Mr. Hewitt laughed. “You’re just as easily provoked as always. Ah, I have missed you.”
“And I have missed you,” Mr. Townsbridge said. His frown seconds earlier had given way to a smile. “Why don’t you go and get settled into your room. The butler will show you the way. And then you can come back down for tea on the terrace.”
Mr. Hewitt inclined his head toward Bethany and went to follow the butler who’d been waiting for him nearby.
Bethany turned to watch Mr. Hewitt walk away. “I gather he’s a bit of a rake?”
Mr. Townsbridge crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “He likes to pretend he is, but in truth he’s an absolute gentleman.”
“So then he was joking when he mentioned a potential interest in one of your sisters?”
“Yes.” He dropped his gaze in her direction. “What you witnessed just now was our way of sparring with each other. It wasn’t much different to the other comment he made about you and I being the couple that everyone’s come here to celebrate. I hope you did not take offense to that for I know it was meant in good sport.”
“You may rest assured that I was not the least bit offended. On the contrary, I found it amusing.” Her voice was thankfully level and calm, belying the riotous state of her nerves.
“Amusing?”
“Certainly. I mean, I am obviously marrying Robert, and yet he’s not here but you are and well…here we are, greeting guests together, just as Mr. Hewitt said. It could give the wrong impression.”
His eyes sharpened even as they narrowed. A darkness seemed to settle in the depth of his gaze, causing Bethany to suck in a breath. “And you find that amusing?”
“Well, I…” She shook her head, suddenly unnerved by the way he was leaning toward her, dominating the space around her. Her body trembled in response, unsettled and yet strangely enraptured. His head tilted in question, and for some unknown reason, she dropped her gaze to his lips and unwittingly wondered how they might feel and taste beneath her own.
You’ll never know.
Her heart ricocheted wildly in protest as that thought took hold, forcing her to be completely honest. “If I can’t, what chance do I possibly have of getting through this?”
His nostrils flared on a sharp inhalation, and she realized too late how much she’d revealed. “I didn’t mean…” She stopped herself in the middle of the lie and closed her eyes instead, blocking him out as she struggled to rise above the humiliation of what he now knew.
“Bethany.” His voice was whisper soft, the sound of her name akin to a prayer.
She stood perfectly still, too scared to move for fear of d
oing something reckless, like claiming the kiss she now imagined sharing with him. The mere thought of it stirred her imagination and quickened her breaths. “You should go.” It was the only way for her to save herself from submitting to every desire he’d instilled in her since the moment they’d met.
There was a brief pause during which she could feel the air shifting between them. The heat of his body faded as he stepped back, and then she heard the click of his retreating footsteps upon the marble floor. When she opened her eyes again he was gone, and even though the house was now filled with people, she’d never felt more alone.
Chapter 4
Charles’s mind was in turmoil. He wanted his friend’s fiancée, dammit. He wanted Bethany with an overwhelming fierceness he’d never experienced before in his life, and from what he’d gathered from her comment a short while ago, she wanted him too. Which was just about the worst observation he’d ever made. Because resisting her when he’d believed her heart was set on Robert was one thing, but now, when he knew their attraction was mutual, being near her would be like playing with fire.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and considered his options. None was viable since each involved hurting Robert, perhaps even bringing shame down on all of their heads. So then the only thing to do was fight it. With this in mind, he gritted his teeth and went to enjoy the tea on the terrace while carefully keeping his distance from Lady Bethany. But ignoring her completely was impossible. Especially when he spied her laughing over something together with his brothers and sisters. A smile tugged at his lips as he realized how comfortable she seemed to be with them, and it struck him then that with Robert she never truly relaxed. It was as if he kept her on edge, stopping her from revealing her true self.
He’d seen that true self the first day he’d met her in the park, and he saw it now – a freedom of spirit that warmed his heart and caused him to yearn.
“She’s very special,” his mother said as she came to stand beside him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see she was watching him closely and with more interest than he liked. “Robert has chosen well for himself, I’ll give him that.” He took a sip of his tea and turned to look at his mother. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure he’d manage it, considering some of the ladies he’s shown an interest in in the past.”
His mother snorted. “You may feign aloofness as much as you like, Charles, but I am not blind. So whatever it is that’s between you two, I suggest you take care of it soon. Before the wedding.”
He knew what she meant – that he had to either cut all ties or make a drastic decision, but the way she said it, the double entendre he found in her words, thickened his blood as it rushed through his veins. Desire gripped him and arousal took hold. He could think of a thousand different ways to take care of it, none of which were the least bit proper.
Aware he was standing too close to the edge of a dangerous abyss, he clenched his jaw and set down his teacup. “There is nothing,” he told his mother with the sort of coolness that deserved a prize. “And there never will be.”
The next day was perfect for going to see the castle ruins. Bethany set off on foot with her parents and some of the other guests, which included all of the Townsbridges, the Darlingtons, and Mr. Hewitt. A carriage filled with picnic supplies had gone on ahead with a couple of footmen to set things up. Swatting away a fly, Bethany plucked a long blade of grass from the field they were crossing and used it to make a whistling sound.
Athena rushed to her side. “I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. Can you please show me how?”
Grinning in response to the girl’s exuberance, Bethany selected another blade of grass and handed it to her. “You have to hold it like this,” she instructed as they continued walking. “And then you hold it up to your mouth, purse your lips and blow.” She demonstrated how it was done and then waited for Athena to give it a try.
No sound emerged, except that of her puffing out air. She scrunched her nose. “Am I holding this right?”
Bethany drew to a halt and checked the blade’s position between the girl’s hands. She made a slight adjustment and told her to try again. Still no whistling could be heard. “Move your mouth a little and give it another go,” Bethany encouraged.
Athena did as she suggested, and suddenly, a faint whistling sound emerged. Athena’s eyes widened and she blew harder, adding strength to the sound. “I did it.” She laughed and spontaneously flung her arms around Bethany in a hug. “Thank you so much for teaching me this.”
Bethany’s heart swelled as she smiled down at the girl. “Keep practicing now without my assistance. Before you know it you’ll be ready to start your own grass-blade quartet.”
Athena grinned and they recommenced walking. “My brothers can all hoot with their hands and whistle with their fingers. Unlike Sarah who’s much too proper to engage in such activities, I’ve always envied them their abilities.”
“I can teach you how to do those things as well as skip stones,” Bethany told her, liking the idea of putting the young girl on equal footing with her older brothers.
“Charles is really good at that. He once made a stone bounce six times across the surface of the water.”
Smiling, Bethany leaned a bit closer to Athena and told her conspiratorially, “My record is eight.”
Athena gasped. “Truly?” When Bethany nodded, a peal of laughter escaped the girl and then she turned her head slightly and shouted in Mr. Townsbridge’s direction, “Bethany says her stone skipping skills are superior to yours.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Townsbridge asked while a hot flush rose to Bethany’s cheeks.
She coughed. “That’s not what I said.”
“It was certainly implied,” Athena insisted. “You cannot deny it.”
Indeed she could not, but she hadn’t expected the girl to make the fact quite so public.
“Perhaps I should challenge you to a contest, my lady?”
Bethany flinched, startled by Mr. Townsbridge’s closeness, for she had not heard him approach. Her pulse quickened and the warmth in her cheeks crept lower, settling deep in her belly. “Only if you’re willing to lose,” she quipped in the hope of keeping the conversation light and her mind away from the way she ached for his touch.
“I fear I’ve already done so,” he whispered, causing riotous thoughts and emotions to clash with each other in a futile effort to be understood. And then, as if his statement and his nearness weren’t bad enough, his fingers brushed hers, so fleetingly it barely happened at all, but enough to rob Bethany of air.
“How do you mean?” Athena asked in the same boisterous way she’d asked Bethany to show her how to whistle with a blade of grass.
Mr. Townsbridge gave a shrug. “Nothing, Imp.” He took a step sideways as if to avoid a hole in the road, distancing himself from Bethany. “Will you be our referee?”
Athena clapped her hands together with delight. “Oh yes. I would love to.”
With a warm smile directed at his sister, Mr. Townsbridge turned away and went to join his brothers, who were walking a bit further behind. Bethany’s fingers still remembered his touch, the tips of them tingling as if to inform her that they wanted more. This was madness. She was losing her mind and would likely end up in Bedlam before her wedding day if this continued.
Her only recourse was to focus on the pleasure of the excursion. The ruin was wonderfully romantic with colorful wildflowers dotting the ground and vines climbing over the walls. “This would make a perfect sanctuary – the perfect place to escape to,” she told Mr. Townsbridge after lunch when he asked her what she thought of the place.
Balancing along a low wall, she wobbled when a stone gave way beneath her weight, and she was instantly steadied by the touch of his hand. A jolt tore through her, and she gasped in response. “Careful,” he warned as he slowly released her. “I would not want you to fall.”
Heart racing, she slowly nodded while desperately trying to silence the voice that t
old her she already had. Holding her gaze, Mr. Townsbridge backed away before quickly turning and going to join his parents, who were still enjoying their meal.
With a sigh, Bethany prayed for Robert’s speedy arrival. At least if he was here to remind her of all the reasons she could not let herself want another man, never mind his friend, she might stand a chance.
But as the days wore on and she found herself spending more time with Mr. Townsbridge, regret manifested itself inside her, gripping her until she feared she would suffocate from it. She was trapped. Trapped in an unhappy engagement with a man whose interest in her was on par with her own interest in dust mites. At least if he’d cared somehow, proved to her that she mattered to him more than merely accomplishing a goal, she would have had cause to hope for an acceptable future at his side.
Instead, she only became more aware of her mounting feelings for Mr. Townsbridge. Flopping onto her bed one late afternoon with every intention of taking a nap, she considered the man she’d come to like so much better than his friend. He made her want things she’d never wanted before – his hands on every inch of her body, his lips against hers. But it was more than that, more than the physical attraction inevitably drawing them together. It was the fact that he made her laugh, challenged her at every game they’d played these past few days, showed genuine concern over her future happiness – particularly with regard to her dreams.
“Give him time,” he’d told her yesterday when he’d happened upon her with her sketchpad in the garden. She’d been drawing Langdon House and jotting down notes about the various design elements. “He’ll come around eventually, you’ll see. A year from now I wager he’ll be championing your ideas for the next architectural project.”
She’d forced a smile in response even though she’d doubted every word. Robert had been adamant. He would not support her as anything other than a perfect model wife. But Mr. Townsbridge would, and this alone was enough to make her wish she had met him first. Add to that the respect and fondness with which he treated his family, the warmth in his eyes when he looked her way, and the fact that he made her feel as though she could be the best version of herself with him by her side. She flung her hand over her eyes with a groan. Why, oh why, oh why, did he have to be Robert’s friend?
The Townsbridge's Series Page 10
