Benedict ran one hand over his chin as he meandered slowly along the path by the river. He was pleased that Miss Smith had agreed to meet with him again, but every time he suggested taking tea or the like, she had always refused. It had been almost three weeks since their first meeting but thus far, he still could not recall her name and, given that he was not able to point her out to any of his friends, did not think that he ever would! Perhaps she would have to continue being called Miss Smith for the rest of her days.
But how can I grow closer to her if I do not know her true title?
“Whatever can you be thinking about, Rushington?”
Benedict blinked, then came to a stop, seeing Lord Burnley grinning at him, standing only a short distance away.
“Good afternoon, Burnley.”
“Good afternoon. Might I ask where you are going? You have been walking very slowly and appear deep in thought – though mayhap the thoughts are not as pleasant as you might wish them to be?”
Coming to walk alongside Benedict, he waited with a lifted eyebrow for an answer, though Benedict was not overly inclined to give it.
“I have a specific situation in mind, that is all.”
“And what is this situation?”
Benedict shook his head.
“It is a mystery which I must find a way through.” Wincing inwardly at the light that immediately filled his friend’s eyes, he berated himself silently for saying the very thing that was likely to incite his friend’s interest. “Do not ask me the details, for I will not give them to you.”
“No? And why ever not?” Lord Burnley’s expression instantly lifted into one of surprise, followed by his brows dropping low. “These last two weeks, I have found you increasingly absent, I must admit. I thought your desire to return to London after your sister’s wedding was for laughter and ridiculous nonsense, which we had only just returned to, only for you to then begin to distance yourself again.” There came a slight narrowing of his eyes. “What is it that keeps you away? It is not the matter with that young lady and your confusion over her and Miss Davenport, is it?”
“No, indeed not!” Benedict huffed out a laugh, seeing Lord Burnley nod his relief. “I confess that I have not given that a single thought these last few weeks. After our discussion on the matter, I came to the conclusion that you were right, and I did not need to pursue the issue any longer – and I have not done so. I have not let myself think on it.”
“Then what have you been thinking about?” Lord Burnley asked, pointedly. “There must be something significant to this mystery that has pulled you away from my company which, if I might say myself, is very often sought out by a good many others! Especially if you will not speak of it to me!”
Chuckling, Benedict rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing arrogance.
“It is of significance, yes,” he admitted, quietly, his smile beginning to drift away. “I find myself quite caught up with it.”
“Tell me.”
Benedict sighed heavily, seeing his friend’s frown, and wondering whether or not he ought to say anything. It was not as if Miss Smith had forbidden him from speaking of her to anyone else, but all the same, there was something about what he had with her, the bond of mystery and interest, which he wanted to keep all to himself. His gaze lifted back along the path, only to catch sight of none other than the young lady in question. She was, as he had expected, standing with Miss Glover, their maids a little way behind them both. His heart leaped up suddenly, evidently thrilled to be in her company again, although he kept his features quite fixed so Lord Burnley would not notice.
“Ah, there is Miss Glover.” The nonchalance with which he spoke was heavily affected but thankfully, Lord Burnley did not seem to notice. “Are you acquainted with the lady?”
“I am.” Lord Burnley threw him a look then returned it to Miss Glover. “I do not think I have ever come across a young lady who speaks as much as she!”
“I admit to finding her a pleasure to talk with,” Benedict replied, earning him a look of surprise from his friend. “Although I am not yet acquainted with the young lady beside her.”
Lord Burnley gave her only a passing glance, then shrugged.
“I do not know her either,” he said, before continuing on his way, leaving Benedict to wonder what he was to do.
He could not simply walk past Miss Smith but at the same time, did not want to expose his lie to Lord Burnley. He had only just stated that he was not acquainted with her, and could not now go to her side only for her to state to Lord Burnley that yes, they were already known to each other.
“You have not told me why you are walking here,” Benedict said hastily, wondering if he might distract Lord Burnley from his walk. “Did you think only to stop and wait for me?”
Lord Burnley chuckled and stopped, looking back at Benedict.
“No, I am to meet with Lord Henderson… and his sister. Apparently, the lady is a beauty and I confess, I am rather intrigued when it comes to beauty.”
Benedict grinned.
“Very well. I think I shall speak with Miss Glover and her companion for a few moments so that they do not think us both rude for walking past them!”
Lord Burnley narrowed his eyes immediately, telling Benedict that there was an immediate suspicion over such an action. Choosing to remain as unperturbed as he could, Benedict said nothing more, keeping his stance relaxed and his smile pinned to his face. After some moments, Lord Burnley shrugged and turned away, and Benedict let out a silent breath of relief. He watched Lord Burnley for a few more seconds, making certain that his friend did not turn around and come marching back immediately, before finally, making his way back towards Miss Smith and Miss Glover.
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Rushington. I thought you were to walk past us!” Miss Smith smiled though her green eyes held a myriad of questions, each swirling gently. “Was that a friend of yours?”
“Yes, that was Lord Burnley.” Benedict glanced to his left, a twist of concern filling him as if he expected Lord Burnley to jump out at any moment. “He is gone to meet with another gentleman.”
“And you did not think to introduce us?” There was a note of gentle teasing in Miss Glover’s voice, though she put one hand to her hip. “We might have been glad of another acquaintance.”
“I thought it best not to do so. After all, I would not want to use my friend to recall Miss Smith’s true title!”
It was a thin excuse and Benedict looked to Miss Smith, a little concerned that she felt the same way as her friend, only to see her smiling gently, clearly pleased with his response.
“How very considerate and honest of you, Lord Rushington.”
“I am glad that you think so.”
When Benedict put out his arm, Miss Smith took it at once, sending a smile to Miss Glover who quickly nodded in clear understanding. A small trail of heat ran up his spine at the look the two ladies shared. They were both all too aware that he desired to walk and converse with Miss Smith and she seemed more than contented with the situation, such as it was… so why then did he suddenly feel so ill at ease?
Frowning, he resisted the urge to rub one hand over his forehead. The last time he had spoken with Miss Smith, he had stated his intention to be as open and as honest with her as he could. Part of such a statement had come with the hope that should he say such a thing – and do as he had stated – she might then be willing to allow him a little more into her sphere. The other part of his intention had been to simply be clear as to what had occurred with Miss Davenport. It was not something that he could fully explain, but the more time he spent with Miss Smith, the more he wanted to be truthful with her about what he had endured, and the foolishness of his own actions also. There was very little doubt in his mind that she was already aware of something, given the rumors and whispers that had been flying about London in his absence, and that awareness was what drove him.
“The day is lovely, I think.” Miss Smith’s head turned towards him, a small sigh escaping from her lips. “Do you not think so, Lord Rushington?”
“I do.” The tension in his frame began to slowly fade as he walked alongside her, all too aware that the desire within himself to be honest with her was growing all the more. “When last we spoke, there was in that discussion an acknowledgment of some whispers about me which you neither acknowledged nor denied knowing.”
Miss Smith’s lips quirked.
“And I shall continue to do the same, I am afraid.”
“And that is entirely your prerogative,” he agreed, smiling at her. “But I wish to inform you of what took place.” The smile began to dim as he recalled the night when he had betrothed himself to Miss Davenport, only to find his heart torn asunder but a short while later. How strange it was to realize that there was not so much as a bruise still lingering there! “I want to make myself plain, Miss Smith, so nothing is hidden from you.”
“You seem to care about my consideration of you, Lord Rushington.”
“Indeed, I do.” He did not hesitate as he responded, a fresh fervency in his voice which he did not even attempt to hide. “Which is why I must tell you that I have been a very foolish fellow.” This was met with a small exclamation of surprise as Miss Smith turned her head to look directly at him, her eyes a little more rounded than before. “I was,” Benedict said again, very firmly indeed. “I am a gentleman who has always been inclined towards a little frivolity, and certainly some foolishness over the London Season, but never before have I permitted myself to behave in a way such as this!” Shaking his head to himself, he continued before she had a chance to interject. “I met a young lady and thought her the most wonderful creature in all the world. After only the briefest of acquaintances, I decided that I must be in love with her and continued to pursue her as best I could.”
“I see.”
Miss Smith’s voice was very faint, and Benedict glanced at her, aware of the lines which now formed across her forehead.
“I was not in love with her.” The words came easily enough, and Benedict caught himself nodding, beginning to realize the truth now. “I believed that I was, but even my own sister warned me to be cautious. She reminded me that I had not had even the opportunity to have a prolonged conversation with the lady in question, and had not spent a great deal of time in her company, but I did not believe that to be of any concern.”
Miss Smith coughed quietly, then pressed his arm gently.
“And might I ask why you could not spend longer in her company? If you believed yourself to be in love, then–”
“Because she was already being courted by another.” Catching the quick intake of breath, Benedict winced visibly. “And thus, the story of my foolishness continues.”
“I see.”
Miss Smith was blinking rapidly, her gaze away from him now.
“Another gentleman had asked to court her and had been accepted,” Benedict continued, speaking quickly so he might finish the story as soon as possible. “And yet, I was singularly determined to make her my bride.”
At this, Miss Smith stopped walking, her hand loosening from his arm as she turned to look at him.
“You proposed? Whilst she was being courted by another gentleman?”
The tone of her voice left him in no doubt what it was that she thought of such behavior, and Benedict was quick to correct her.
“No, she was no longer being courted by Lord Thomlinson when I proposed, Miss Smith, though I will admit to being more than a little obvious when it came to expressing my desires. Miss Davenport knew what I wished for, understood my longings, and told me, much to my gratification, that she felt the same way. The only reason she had accepted Lord Thomlinson was her father’s urging, but she had no true feelings for him. Thus, she begged me to wait until she could find a way to make sure that the connection between herself and Lord Thomlinson came to a close in a proper manner – and thus, I waited. My sister was quite correct, however. By this point, I had not spent a great deal of time in her company, nor had I enjoyed more than one or two very brief conversations with her, but I was still more than convinced that I was in love with the lady. Looking back upon that, hearing myself say such things, I confess to being very foolish indeed. I proposed to a young lady whose character I did not know, but whose face was the only thing I had truly considered. Convincing myself that her character would match her outward beauty, when she told me matters were at an end between herself and Lord Thomlinson, I practically leaped at her. I proposed at almost the very same moment, and while you will think me a buffoon for doing so – and I will admit I was, also – she accepted me.”
“So, you were betrothed.” She began to move, and Benedict fell into step beside Miss Smith, walking with her again, now that her initial shock was at an end. “But no longer, I presume.”
“No, indeed not!” Benedict managed to chuckle, though the sound faded quickly. “Now that I think about it, now that I understand the truth for what it is, I see that the very reason Lord Thomlinson ended his courtship is the very same as the reason that broke our betrothal asunder.”
“Oh?”
Her eyes found his again, searching them gently.
“She told me that Lord Thomlinson disapproved of the company she kept. I do not know what such company was, however, but if it was the same company which I saw her in, then I can understand his displeasure.” When Miss Smith’s eyebrows rose, Benedict sighed heavily and explained himself. “Once we were betrothed, I was overwhelmed with delight. I am sure you can imagine, therefore, the depths of despair I found myself flung into when I watched her step into the arms of another gentleman. She did not know that I was watching her, of course, which made matters all the worse.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” Miss Smith’s hand made its way back to his arm, a gentle sympathy in her tone. “That must have been profoundly difficult.”
“It was – but strangely, I am glad of it. It is because of what I witnessed that the betrothal between myself and Miss Davenport came to an end. I do not tell you this for you to think ill of her, Miss Smith, but rather so that you might think ill of me.”
Miss Smith stopped once more though her hand did not pull away as she looked up into his face, her eyes a little rounded.
“I do not understand. You want me to think poorly of you?”
“I do not want it, but I expect it,” Benedict answered, quietly. “I will confess to you that I find that my desire for your company grows ever stronger, but I wish, at the same time, to be entirely honest about the mistakes and foolishness in which I have involved myself. Knowing that you would have heard rumors and the like, I think it is only fair to be truthful with you. I thought myself in love with Miss Davenport, and she proved me to be a fool, but I have learned from what I suffered. I have recognized my haste and my overeager heart, and I am determined not to behave in such a manner again.”
Miss Smith remained quiet for some minutes. They walked together, her hand on his arm, their steps slow, and both minds, no doubt, considering what had been said. Benedict clamped his lips shut, refusing to permit himself to say one word more, even though the silence from Miss Smith was difficult to endure. He wondered what it was that she was thinking of him, what it was that she was considering. There was the chance that she might choose to step back from him, to end their connection over his past foolishness and, if that was what she was to do, then Benedict would have no choice but to accept it – even if he did not wish for it. Ice flooded his heart and he shivered violently, only for Miss Smith to look up at him.
“Miss Davenport, is she…?”
“She is betrothed and preparing for her wedding day.” Understanding what it was that she had been thinking to ask him, Benedict managed a smile. “I do not have even a single modicum of feeling remaining when it comes to Miss Davenport, I assure you. It is as though, in being freed from her, I have realized the ridiculousness of my actions – though I did not feel this way immediately, I confess it! I was angry – furious, in fact – and broken-hearted.” Allowing himself a shrug, he glanced at her again. “Now, however, I confess to being a little relieved to have been saved from what, to my mind, would have been an utterly disastrous connection.”
“Thank you for explaining all to me.” Miss Smith took a deep breath and lifted her chin, but gazed straight ahead, not looking at him. “You are very good to be so truthful.”
“It is because I want to be,” he answered, truthfully. “I do not want there to be confusion or whispers of rumors between us. I wish to be honest.”
“And so you have been.” The strength in Miss Smith’s voice faded to almost a whisper as she finally turned her head to look at him again. “And mayhap I will join you in that.” With another breath, she squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, her face a little paler now, even with the sunshine and the warmth of the afternoon. “My name, Lord Rushington. I think I shall share it with you.”
Benedict came to an immediate stop, twisting sharply towards her.
“You have no need to, Miss Smith, not unless you truly wish to. I am contented to call you Miss Smith, rather than your true title, until I recall your name.”
Her smile lifted briefly, though her eyes did not flash with light.
“You shall never recall it, Lord Rushington, for I did not give it to you. Not once.”
A cold shiver ran down his frame.
“Why not?”
“Because I enjoyed teasing you.”
It was an answer that took some of his confusion away. He did not find any anger growing because of her statement, but instead found his smile lifting just a little
“I see.”
“Miss Smith?”
The quiet voice of Miss Glover broke through their conversation, and stole the moment away, leaving Benedict with a sharp pain stabbing through his chest. Miss Smith had been on the cusp of revealing her name, a name which he now understood he had never heard before.
“We should return to the carriage. We do not have very long.”
Miss Smith nodded then looked back to Benedict.
“Forgive me, Lord Rushington.” Her eyes glinted gently. “It appears as though my truth shall have to wait a little while longer.”