“Don’t—” Eliza’s voice seemed to startle her as much as it had him. “Go,” she ordered, harder, sharper.
“What?”
“Leave. You have a victory to crow over.”
“Eliza, no!” he insisted, catching her face in his palms, claiming her gaze.
“I cannot believe I was so foolish again. What is wrong with me?” She jammed her other leg through the stocking, knotting the lacing without a care. Benedict didn’t dare interrupt.
“That is not what this was—is. I swear to you. Nothing about what happened was?—”
“And I suppose your sister just happened to walk in and find me thoroughly ruined by coincidence?” She shot back up before stuffing her legs through the holes in her drawers and yanking them up.
“Yes!” Benedict’s panic swept through him as he reached for her slipper. How was this beautiful moment, Eliza’s breathtaking display of trust and courage, turning to shit so quickly?
“I do not believe you!” She snatched the shoe from his grasp. Furiously, she shoved her foot inside, wrapping the ribbon far too tight along her calf.
“You’re going to cut off your sensation,” Benedict protested as he made to take the silver strip of silk.
“That is none of your concern.”
“It is my concern because I care about youandyour calf, you daft thing. Hate me all you like, but do not injure yourself to spite me.”
“I do not care about you enough to bother spiting you.”
Tears welled up in Benedict’s eyes. “I will care enough for us both,” he vowed. “Now give me the other shoe.”
“You do not know the meaning of the word.” In spite of her protest, Eliza reluctantly allowed him to slip the shoe on her foot and lace it.
A lump threatened to cut off Benedict’s air. “Perhaps you are right. But your touch— It’s the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know. So I promise you, if someone learns of what happened here tonight, it will not be from my lips. Or Bella’s.”
Eliza’s palms pressed together, meeting her lips as she released a shaky breath. “My gloves,” she demanded, thrusting one palm out. Benedict untucked them from his pocket, hating the pang at the thought of their loss. Eliza forced her arm through the kid leather, then yanked them up her arms.
“You will wait here for ten, nay, twenty minutes, while I make my excuses and return home. Then you will ensure you are seen by the entireton. If you care for me as you claim to, you will do this.”
“You cannot,” Bella interjected. “There is?—”
“You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. Don’t suppose me so naive as to think you ignorant of his scheme. You presented me to your brother like a calf to be trussed up for auction.”
Benedict saw the moment Bella’s concern turned to anger. “I did, and I don’t regret it. I was raised to hate you and your family with everything I am. That doesn’t disappear because my brother fancies himself in love with you. But do not be foolhardy. Allow Benedict to escort you inside.”
Eliza’s eyes narrowed, assessing Bella. Whatever she found there, she straightened her shoulders and, to Benedict’s great relief, said, “You may walk me to the house provided we take care not to be seen. Then the two of you will find another way inside.”
Silently, the trio stepped out into the night and traced their way back to the grand house. Their footsteps crunched along the even gravel path. Benedict hovered a few steps back so as not to upset Eliza further with his presence.
He left her at the set of double doors he’d seen her slip out of earlier, watching as she made her way into the hall where there would be enough witnesses that she would remain safe.
Benedict turned back to his sister. “Now, what was so damned important that you had to interrupt the single greatest moment of my life and ensure it turned to shit?”
“How was I to know you were tupping the girl in the orangery?”
“I wasn’t— It wasn’t tawdry.”
“Yes, I’m certain it was the most profound moment ever seen in heaven or earth. Tell me, did you enjoy a citrus snack before or after you feasted on her?—”
“If you finish that sentence, I will be forced to kill you myself.”
“You say that now, but I saw Peregrin Draycott inside tonight.”
