There was a momentary silence as Benedict stood over the scoundrel lying near his feet. He and Anastasia barely even gasped or breathed as the faint strains of music from the ballroom reached them as well, growing louder and louder by the second, even though they were outside.
Anastasia looked down at the baron. Then, she looked back up at Benedict. Her face was pale, and her lips parted in shock. Meanwhile, Benedict stood, his chest heaving and a sheen of sweat on his brow. His knuckles throbbed from the punch, but he still could not make himself regret what he had done.
“Are you hurt, Anastasia? Did he hurt you? Touch you?” he asked, walking toward her.
He saw what happened, but he could not pretend that he knew exactly what she felt on her end. He still wanted to hear it from her own lips.
“N-no,” she stammered, as she tried to compose herself. The color was returning to her face. “H-he did not. You managed to stop him. You punched him! Why are you here?”
Anastasia seemed unable to settle on one topic. She looked confused and distraught, her eyes wide as she contemplated him.
“First off,” he said, “I broke my rules. But what matters is that I made sure he will not touch you again. He is not dead, Anastasia.”
“Second of all?” she asked, her mouth quivering, as if she were trying not to smile.
Anastasia had a way of making him feel better just by her mere presence, but he had not forgotten why they were there in thefirst place. She had fled the safety of the ballroom so that she could keep on evading him.
“Why did you leave Frostmore? Yes, I know you were meant to support your sister at her wedding. But after that? You did not want to return. You sent for your clothes!”
His anger bloomed, even as he tried to control it. He did not want to frighten her, but the weight in his chest was becoming too much to bear. She evaded him in Frostmore. Then she left, not wanting to return before he had a chance to explain.
“If this is about the will, you do not have to worry yourself. You do not need me to inherit your money and keep your title,” she said, as she straightened herself.
Warning bells rang in his head. She looked as defiant as ever, and her words confused him. He never even thought about his inheritance when she left. He thought only of getting her back. The money was not as important to her as she was.
“The will? What in all that is holy are you talking about? The will is the last thing I am thinking of right now. What do you mean, I do not need you?” he asked.
Chapter 26
Anastasia was startled by the confusion and indignation on Benedict’s face. Didn’t he come here to ensure he would still inherit? Her furious confusion was contagious.
“The Duke of Stonevale said you sent him a request for marriageable ladies weeks ago. I thought it best to leave, knowing I was just a diversion. I do not want to prevent you from finding the woman of your dreams. Without me there, it would be easier for you to correct the mistake you made, to commit to a life you truly want.”
“Oh. And what did you think that life would be like?” he asked.
“I have gotten to know you. I have seen what you are like,” she said, her voice low. “You want someone who can provide you with the good reputation you deserve from a wife.”
He reached out to her and squeezed her hand.
“You are more important than any of that,” he reassured her, but she pulled her hand away from him.
“You do not understand,” she insisted. “My aunt had the will forged. She had the solicitor say that I need to marry for you to inherit. It is not true. She wanted only to force us together. But let it be clear to you that you were meant to inherit Frostmore anyway, without any conditions. I will not drag you down. You are free. You never needed me to marry. You never needed me. I do not have to marry, and that means I am free, too.”
Benedict stared at her. The revelation felt like a physical blow, one worse than the one he had delivered to Oxford. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He shook his head and pinched his nose, as if trying to understand what was being said.He ran his hand through his hair, disrupting the carefully coiffed strands.
“The will… was forged? All of this—the suitors, the time we wasted—was based on a lie?”
“You see, you do not have to question whether your uncle considered you worthy of his title. You had everything all along, and you deserve it. There is nobody else that I can think of who would take on the title with so much sense of responsibility,” she continued, blinking fast.
Anastasia meant every word she was telling him. He was a man who could provide Frostmore with the discipline and structure it needed to thrive. She realized that even though she hated the thought of marrying for the sake of doing so, she might have just gone through with it if it meant Benedict would get what he deserved.
“I am not here for that, Anastasia,” Benedict said, his voice hoarse.
“How can I be certain of that?” she asked, her voice cracking on the final word. She turned on her heel away from him before she ended up doing something stupid in front of him, like crying.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Benedict growled.
This time, he would not let her run away from him again. He had given her space because he thought that was what he needed. But he saw something in her. He saw the anguish in her eyes. No, Anastasia did not really want to say goodbye. She wanted him to get only what she thought he wanted.
