He had hoped that the speed of the ride would provide some clarity or at least a brief reprieve from the images that had been tormenting him since last night. But it was no use. Every time he blinked, he saw her. The kiss haunted him, not just because it had happened, but because of how much he wanted it to happen again.
He clenched the reins tighter, scowling to himself. It was a mistake, he repeated in his mind. A fleeting moment of weakness. He wasn't the type to lose control, especially over a woman. This was ridiculous. He needed to pull himself together.
He needed a distraction. It was not until afternoon till he reached Hartfield Manor and Ambrose exhaled in relief. It waswhere his friend Benedict resided – who it appeared to be the perfect distraction.
Lord Benedict had always been good at lightening Ambrose's mood—an easygoing, carefree soul who never took life too seriously. Exactly what Ambrose needed right now.
As Ambrose approached the grand entrance, a stable boy hurried out to greet him, taking the reins of his horse. "Good day, Your Grace," the boy said, bowing his head respectfully.
Ambrose nodded and dismounted, stretching his tense muscles as he handed over the reins. "Thank you. Is Lord Benedict in?"
The stable boy nodded, "Yes, Your Grace. The doorman shall escort to you him."
Ambrose nodded, and made his way inside the Manor.
A booming voice echoed down the hallway before Ambrose could even fully take in his surroundings. "Ambrose! You old dog, what brings you to my humble abode unannounced?"
Ambrose turned to see his childhood friend, striding toward him with a wide grin on his face. Benedict was a tall man, slightly broader than Ambrose, with sandy-blond hair.
"Benedict," Ambrose said with a small smile, extending his hand. "I thought I'd stop by and see if you were still lazing about."
Benedict barked a laugh, gripping Ambrose's hand firmly. "You know me too well, old friend. I thought you were meant to be hosting a house party."
"My mother is, yes," Ambrose replied, stiffly. He did not want to think about what he had left behind.
"Ah, convey my apologies to her that I could not attend," Benedict laughed. "She sent me a very nice invitation letter."
"If anything, I am grateful that you did not," Ambrose nodded. "For I would much rather speak with you here, rather than surrounded by so many people."
Benedict gave his friend a weary look. "I know you're not particularly fond of large crowds. But this feels out of character, even for you. Seriously, what brings you here? It's been, what, months since we last saw each other?"
Ambrose shrugged, trying to play it off. "I needed to get away from the estate for a while. Some time to clear my head."
"Not having a fun time at the party?"
A kiss is very fun. Dealing with what comes after is not."I suppose not."
"And?"
"As I said," Ambrose reiterated, "I came here to clear my head."
Benedict's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Ambrose's face. "Clear your head? You?"
"Friend, I thought you'd be quite happy to see me," Ambrose decided to shift his strategy if he was going to get his friend to stop badgering him with more question. "But here you are, acting like the local respondent for the newspaper."
That got a chuckle out of him.
"All I am saying that you are not one toclearyour head like this often. You always boast about how nothing gets to you. Something's bothering you."
Ambrose waved it off, already regretting his vague explanation. "It's nothing," he muttered.
"Ah, I see. It's always nothing with you, isn't it?" Benedict smirked, gesturing for Ambrose to follow him. "Well, come on then. Let's get you settled and we can have a drink. You look like you could use one."
Ambrose followed Benedict into the drawing room, and settled on one of the sofas. Benedict poured two glasses of brandy, handing one to Ambrose before collapsing next to him.
"So," Benedict began, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, "what's got you all knotted up? Don't tell me it's the weight of the dukedom. You've handled that since you were practically a boy."
"No," he said, chugging down his drink quickly. The liquid burned the back of his throat, but he did not mind.
