The kiss was quick. Nothing to cause scandal, surely. But he knew she was surprised by it. Hopefully not horrified. Mayhap gratified, for there was that brief moment when he was sure she returned the kiss.
Now he wished he had allowed his lips to linger. The temptation was so great, he nearly kissed her again. Propriety prevailed, though, and he stepped back and then bowed. “Goodnight, my lady.” He turned and made his way back to the alley, disappearing behind the fence.
Closing the door as quietly as she could manage, Angelica stood with her back to it, her breath held in disbelief. The tips of her fingers moved to the edge of her lips, lightly brushing over the sensitive skin as she remembered how his lips had felt when pressed there. Firm and gentle, eager but not lustful.
Warmth spread through her entire body, and she found she couldn’t suppress a smile.
Muffin’s quiet ‘woof’ had her giving a start. “Shh,” she said.
Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she made her way up the back stairs and to her bedchamber, Muffin following close behind.
She was nearly to her door when her brother’s voice came from down the hall. “And just where have you been?”
Chapter 10
Contemplating a Construct
Meanwhile...
Ben stood at the back gate of Worthington House for almost an entire minute after Lady Angelica shut the door. The place on his cheek where her lips had touched was warm despite the plummeting temperature of the air that surrounded him. His lips were positively humming.
Had she truly kissed him? Or had he just imagined it?
He knew he had kissed her. Seeing the mistletoe had been the same as hearing an invitation.
Kiss me.
But the look of surprise on her face suggested she really didn’t know it was hanging above her.
Ben walked the few steps down the alley to his gate as if in a daze, his way lit by the moon. “This is all your doing,” he murmured, and then gave his head a shake. What was he saying? The moon was merely a celestial body that happened to have made an appearance at a rather fortuitous moment. He had barely noticed he had his guest sitting atop his bent knee until the scent of her drifted past his nose.
He took in a deep breath, the cold air chilling his nostrils and smelling of coal smoke. Such a disappointment when he was imagining lemon and florals scents.
As he made his way in his garden, he realized this was only the second time he had ever passed through the gate. He regarded the green-painted iron fencing that lined the alley, rather impressed the former owner had seen to having it installed over a simple wood or stone fence.
He glanced down at the remains of a garden at its base, one that continued around the perimeter of the garden. Dusted with white flakes, the dormant garden had him wondering what blooms there might be come spring.
Then he turned to gaze up at his observatory. From this vantage, the round brick structure appeared especially tall—almost like the turret of a castle. With a dome instead of crenellations, though, it reminded him of a Roman phallic symbol. Once a coat of stucco covered the brick next spring, it would be worse.
He could just imagine what the neighbors might be calling it.
Sir Benjamin’s Last Erection.
The Cock of Bradford Hall.
Fuller’s Tool.
Wadsworth’s White Staff.
Benjamin groaned. Perhaps he could have the gardener plant round bushes around the base to lessen the effect of its profile.
He blinked. Bushes would only make it worse.
Sir Benjamin’s Cock and Balls.
Another groan escaped his throat before he dared a glance at the moon and then at the observatory. Bathed in the ethereal glow that peeked out between gray, snow-laden clouds, the observatory wasn’t as bad as he first imagined. In the dark, though, without more than starlight, it was probably a rather frightening sight.
Then his thoughts returned to his caller.
Lady Angelica hadn’t been the least bit afraid to enter the garden, find the door, and climb the steps to accuse him of being a Peeping Tom.
He could almost imagine her in her haste, her long blonde hair floating around her gorgeous face. Those ridiculous little slippers with their furry balls peeking out from beneath her hem with every determined step. Her white night rail and dressing gown flaring out around her, revealing the silhouette of her shapely body and long legs. All those qualities combined to make her appear as an angel in the dark.
My angel, come to scold me and then serve me tea.
A grin lit his face just then at remembering her ire. And then he nearly laughed. What would her father think if he discovered what she’d done on this night?
She can scold me whenever she wishes, as long as she serves me tea and keeps me warm while we stargaze.
Ben gave his head a shake.
Whatever in the world was wrong with him? One evening—nay, an hour or so—spent in the company of the young lady, and then an innocent kiss, and he was imagining a heavenly body. And not one he could admire through his telescope.
Well, he could, he supposed, if he actually aimed it at her bedchamber window.
He gave his head another shake, realizing there was another moniker his neighbors could associate with him.
The Peeping Tom of Mayfair.
Allowing a sigh that had a white cloud surrounding his chilled face, Ben retrieved the red lantern from next to the observatory’s door and made his way into Bradford Hall.
He had a letter he wished to read again.
Chapter 11
A Biscuit Saves the Night
Meanwhile, back at Worthington House
“Just where have you been?” George repeated as he moved to join Angelica from the other end of the hall. Only one torch lit the hall near the top of the main stairs.
His twin sister held up the napkin. “The kitchens. I went down to get a biscuit and a cake,” she replied, unwrapping the linen to show him. She hoped her slippers didn’t appear wet, or that the hem of her dressing gown wasn’t soiled from her traipsing through the neighbor’s garden earlier that evening.
“For over half-an-hour?” he countered. He was still dressed, although he had removed his top coat, waistcoat and cravat.
Angelica allowed a shrug. “I made a cup of tea.” She broke the biscuit in half and offered both it and the cake to him.
He shook his head and then his eyes narrowed. “You have snowflakes in your hair.”
Realizing she couldn’t deny the obvious, Angelica gave a shrug. “That’s because it’s snowing,” she replied happily. “I stood outside the back door a moment. The moon is lovely tonight. It makes the snowflakes look like glitter.”
George blinked. “You’ll catch your death.”
Assured he didn’t suspect she had been doing anything scandalous—not that she had, if anyone had asked her—Angelica moved to open her bedchamber door. “I rather doubt it.” After a pause, she asked, “What have you been doing this evening?”
He inhaled slowly before finally saying, “Correspondence. And I came up with what I think will be a suitable invitation to the dinner party. I also have a list of those I think should attend. Can you write them up on the morrow?”
“Of course. I’ll see to it right after breakfast,” she replied, anxious to get into her room so she could discover if Mr. Fuller was still outside.
“I’ve been thinking about that building next door, and you’re quite right. It’s hideous,” George stated.
Angelica blinked. “Oh, but it’s not,” she argued. At his look of disbelief, she added, “I was regarding it as I stood outside just now, and I think I rather like having an observatory right next door. I’m quite sure important work is being done in there.”
His brows furrowing in confusion, George regarded her a moment before he asked, “Where is my sister, and what have you done with her?”
Angelica gave him a quelling glance. “Eat a biscuit and go to bed,” she countered, once agai
n offering him the broken biscuit.
George took the biscuit and eyed it with suspicion. “How many have you had?”
He didn’t see the punch until it impacted his shoulder. “Ouch!” he breathed through gritted teeth. “Angel!”
“See you at breakfast,” she said sweetly, just before she ducked into her bedchamber and closed the door, careful to be sure Muffin stayed on the other side of it.
George stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and mumbled his annoyance the entire way back to his bedchamber, Muffin on his heels.
Did I truly kiss him?
Angelica turned down the bedchamber’s only lit lamp and made her way in the dark to the corner of the room.
She contemplated her last moment with Ben Fuller as she stood peering through a small opening in the drapes that covered the south window. Munching on the half-biscuit, she spied on her evening’s host.
He stood rooted in the center of what was left of the garden, apparently regarding the tall, barrel-shaped building as snow fell in large, fluffy flakes. Probably just realized it looks like a phallic symbol, she thought with a twinkle.
She had expected he would have already disappeared into his observatory, or perhaps into Bradford Hall, given how clouds now covered most of the sky and snowflakes drifted from above.
The light from the moon bathed him in a milky white glow, though, clouds suspiciously parted in exactly the right spot for it to perform its magic. She could see that he was staring up, first at the observatory and then back to the moon.
She remembered the moment she had been perched on his knee, and he had leaned forward to stare through the telescope lens. Remembered the scent surrounding him. Citrus and amber. Remembered his dark hair, and how close his head had been to the side of her body. How one of his hands had rested on the side of her waist, much like it would do if they had been dancing a waltz.
If she hadn’t been holding her cup of tea, it would have been so easy to simply wrap her arms around his shoulders and neck, settle her head into the small of his shoulder, and close her eyes. Fall asleep in his warm arms. Kiss him when she awoke.
Frissons of delight skittered through her torso, sending warmth to her entire body.
Despite the inappropriate thoughts, she wasn’t about to scold herself. She might be inclined to scold him again, though, the memory of his expression vivid in her mind’s eye.
She allowed a grin and widened the opening of the drapes, the subject of her recollection no longer where he had been a moment ago.
Her eyelids heavy, Angelica was barely awake when she realized Ben Fuller had disappeared from his garden. Relieved he had finally taken shelter, she climbed onto her bed and promptly fell asleep.
Meanwhile, next door at Bradford Hall
Ben took a seat at the desk in his study and unfolded the two letters he had received nearly a week ago. To say it had been a surprise to hear from Milton, Earl of Torrington, would have been an understatement, except that he had opened and read one from his brother, Benedict, Earl of Wadsworth, just the moment before, and was therefore prepared for the older earl’s letter.
Remembering how he had reacted then had him rather embarrassed now. He had cursed, yelled, thrown a pen across the room, kicked his desk, and decided he wouldn’t have anything to do with his brother for the rest of his life.
Now... now he understood.
He reread the letters and gave his head a shake, deciding perhaps his brother wasn’t a gap stopper.
Dear Ben,
I hope this letter finds you settled in your new home and happy with life in London. I know you will be once the telescope is installed and you’re spending your nights stargazing again.
I hope your days might be spent in pursuit of what I have been unable to achieve.
I know this will come as no surprise to you, but I have given up hope of ever siring an heir. The issue has proven to be a point of contention with Sylvia, and I have lost her and her good graces, perhaps for the rest of our lives.
Therefore, my dear brother, it falls on you to carry on the Wadsworth title once I am in the grave.
Knowing you are unfamiliar with London and the Season and all that is expected of an aristocrat, I made sure the house I purchased on your behalf is next door to one in which a young lady of impeccable credentials lives with her twin brother. Their parents, the Earl and Countess of Torrington, are of an age when they no longer wish to pursue the entertainments of London but are satisfied with a life in the country. They do want their daughter married, however. And they would like her to remain close in proximity to her brother, at least until he has secured a wife.
I have been in contact with Lord Torrington on the matter, and he assures me he will write to you.
Do not groan, brother. Do not curse me (although I am quite sure I will hear it all the way here in Suffolk when you do read this), for I am doing you a favor.
Marriage to Lady Angelica will provide you with a dowry on which you two—and your children—can live more than comfortably for the rest of your lives. My daughters’ dowries, which I expect to have to begin doling out in a few years, will not allow me to support you, and you deserve to live a life beyond your modest dome and modest income.
Having been introduced to the young lady, I can assure you she is a beautiful creature. Your children will be handsome, and they will suffer the attentions of two sets of doting grandparents.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the matter, but please do not put pen to paper until after you have had a chance to meet the young lady. You may decide she is a better companion than your beloved Venus.
Your brother,
Benedict
The letter from Milton, Earl of Grandby, was far more succinct.
Dear Sir Benjamin,
Congratulations on your recent knighthood. I should think your discovery of a new comet will eventually make you a Fellow in the Royal Society.
I understand from your brother that you or your issue will be expected to take on the Wadsworth earldom upon his death.
May I suggest you do so with my daughter, Angelica, at your side? I do not make this offer lightly, for she is my pride and joy. Given my age at the time she was born, I never thought to see her married. In fact, I have spent the past three years denying permission to those who wished to court her.
I denied them not because they were lacking in lineage or fortune, but because they would not have been a good fit for a girl raised with a twin brother. Nor for a young woman who is both curious and educated. She requires a husband who is the same.
I believe that gentleman may be you. Even if you eschew your duties as an earl, Lady Angelica will make an excellent countess.
I look forward to your favorable reply,
Torrington
Post scriptum
I neglected to mention my daughter comes with a dowry. Should you wish to build another observatory or buy a larger telescope, be assured you will be able to do so. Angelica will no doubt wish to join you in your pursuit of your next discovery.
Ben settled back in his chair. No longer of a mind to curse, he could still feel a sting of annoyance at what had been arranged without his knowledge. Without his permission.
Had Lady Angelica been apprised? Is that why she had paid him a call this evening? Wearing only her nightclothes, no less?
Her verbal lashing of him suggested otherwise.
Once more, a grin raised the corners of his lips. He decided he would do nothing more than wait and discover what he could of his future wife.
Future wife?
He rolled his eyes and wondered how she would react when she learned what had been arranged on her behalf.
Would she put voice to a curse? Throw a vase? Stomp her feet and clench her hands into fists?
Perhaps.
But he rather hoped not.
Chapter 12
A Knight Considers an Invitation
The following morning
Peters regarded his master wi
th a critical eye and stepped forward to adjust Ben’s cravat. “That should do it, sir.”
Ben nodded, not yet comfortable having Peters as his valet and butler. With such an empty household, though—just him and nine servants—it didn’t seem necessary to employ a separate valet when Peters insisted he could fill the role. “I know I’m up a bit earlier than I expected, but could you see to a morning meal?”
“Breakfast is ready, sir, and your correspondence is on the table,” Peters replied.
“Ah, very good.” He paused a moment. “May I inquire as to how it is you knew I had a caller last night?”
The butler seemed to think on the matter before he said, “I was about to deliver your tea when I saw her ladyship enter the observatory. She seemed... most determined.”
Ben cleared his throat. “A misunderstanding, is all. Tell me, do you know much about the family? Apart from the obvious, I mean.”
Angling his head to one side, Peters seemed about to respond and then angled his head to the other side. “Her father is the Earl of Torrington, her mother is the sister of the Marquess of Devonfield, her brother has accepted a writ of acceleration and will attend Parliament come spring, and she has been out some three years.”
Furrowing his brows, Ben wondered at that last bit. Twenty years old, and not married? Three seasons and no offers?
Apparently, she hadn’t been able turn down any offers since her father had done it for her by denying permission for anyone to court her.
Despite her father’s intervention, was she waiting for someone in particular?
The thought of ‘me’ had him rolling his eyes. She hadn’t even known he existed until she was scolding him.
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