“If you join me in the yard, I’m afraid I’ll never stop kissing you. And the hack is waiting.”
“I like the alternative better.”
Her laugh was low and sweet. “Me too, but needs must.”
Swallowing his desire, he dropped an adoring kiss on her temple. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” she whispered before scurrying off into the night.
Benedict waited a moment, two, to be certain she wouldn’t return for one last kiss before turning back to the waiting carriage.
The driver was no happier to see him a second time, but he made no comment when Benedict climbed back in.
Hints of Eliza’s floral essence clung to the worn upholstery. Perhaps her scent was permanently imprinted on his memory. That was a hopeful thought—every moment of the rest of his life tinged with the scent of violets and impossible dreams.
Benedict’s head leaned back, resting along the top of the threadbare cushion. His thoughts were a tangled, snarled, thorny swirl—all save one.
He couldn’t do this—not to Eliza.
Even if it destroyed everything else.
Chapter Twenty
The drawing roomwas still bright through the window when the hack returned. Benedict tossed the man his due. The butler was nowhere to be found when Benedict returned.
“Norton is peeved with you,” Bella called as he entered.
“It’s mutual.”
Bella rolled her eyes from the settee. “We cannot pay enough for you to chase this one off.”
“Noted.” Benedict spilled too much scotch into a glass, then downed it in a single gulp. He refilled his glass before claiming the broken chair across from her. “Now, what the devil were you thinking bringing her there?”
Benedict never felt like more of a fool than when Bella shot him one ofthoselooks—even though he was certain he had the right of it in this instance.
“She loved it. The girl is desperate for a little excitement in her life.”
“She could have been hurt, Bella. All those drunken men…”
“Iam perfectly well, thank you so much for your concern over my safe?—”
“You can handle yourself,” he grumbled into his drink.
“And so can she. She’s no stranger to that club of her father’s.”
“I do not care if she’s a decorated member of His Majesty’s army. I’ll not have her hurt!” Benedict’s outburst surprised them both.
Bella froze, her eyes wide as she parsed his words. He watched the inevitable conclusion settle into her mind. Her expression narrowed with a sentiment he could not name. She looked… young, in a way she hadn’t even as a child.
“No. No, no, no.”
“I cannot.” Benedict wasn’t ashamed of the way his voice cracked. No, he rather thought he would’ve been ashamed if he’d kept a steady cadence while speaking of intentionally causing pain to Eliza Wayland. He rose to refill his glass once again.
“Benedict, I am fond of the girl, truly. But you cannot do this to me—to us.” It wasn’t often that Bella was genuine, and his chest ached at the waver in her voice. But it was nothing compared to the thought of destroying Eliza.
“I can’t, Bell. I— She’s… She makes me feel… safe. I’ve never— No one has ever… I can’t. Not to her. I won’t.”
Bella shot up and strode to his side. “Please don’t, please.”
