Page 60 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

Now it was the little clergyman’s turn to laugh.

“You think you need lectures on morality and sin, Your Grace? If you are even thinking of such things, most likely you do not. The worst sinners often go about under the conviction that vices are virtues. You know right from wrong, I believe, as does Lady Louisa.”

“Louisa is a good woman,” remarked Benedict, glancing towards her and feeling another pang of desire as he took in her wholesomely pretty, golden-haired features and curvaceous form. “I hope I can give her something of the life she deserves, no matter how our marriage began.”

“I understand that it began from you doing the right thing. What better start could there be? Many marriages begin from naivety, from ambition, from covetousness, from fear of being alone, from family obligation and so on. Are any of those things better?”

“Not in my book,” Benedict returned, realizing that he was having a meaningful conversation with a clergyman for perhaps the first time in his life. “I am not what Lady Louisa wanted, however. You must know that.”

“Are you not?” questioned the rector mildly. “It seems to me that you and Lady Louisa judge yourselves by impossible standards, Your Grace. You may soon both find that you are not only what Lady Louisa wants but exactly what she needs.”

“Your faith in me is touching,” jested Benedict, wondering what on earth Louisa could have said about him to Mr. Terrence. “I hope it is not misplaced.”

“We men of the church ought to have faith, although in God rather than man,” chuckled Mr. Terrance. “Lady Louisa’s faith in you is what matters for your marriage, Your Grace. It is there and yours for the keeping, if you are wise.”

She had faith in him? What did that mean? Again, he looked to his wife-to-be, still reading quietly to her dozing aunt, and so very beautiful under the summer sunlight. If Louisa really could put her trust in him, regardless of everything, then Benedict would do everything in his power to deserve it

“Then let us hope that faith is as good as love,” he replied with a smile.

“Faith is love,” answered the clergyman as though this was obvious. “Now, rather than wasting your time with me, why don’t you invite Lady Louisa to take a walk? I notice that you have barely spoken to one another all day. Lady Esher is sleeping now, I believe, and does not require her niece’s presence.”

“Ah, I cannot do that,” Benedict responded, his mind instantly flooded with indecent images that he could never entirely dispel, but nor could he allow himself to indulge.

“Walk by the lake, in general view, where you cannot be tempted,” suggested the rector merrily, as though reading the other man’s thoughts. “Oh, I have spoken to many bridegrooms on the eve of their weddings, Your Grace. You could not shock me if you tried.”

“For the sake of the present company, I shall not attempt to rise to that challenge, Mr. Terrence,” the Duke of Northwick returned with a grin. “Sometimes in life, I have shocked even myself.”

Regardless, the rector had made a good suggestion. Standing, Benedict brushed himself down and walked across to where Louisa sat with her poetry book, the pages still open but her voice fallen silent as she peered at her aunt’s closed eyes.

“I believe Lady Esher is sleeping,” Benedict said in a low voice. “Shall we walk by the lake, over there?”

“Oh, I…Yes,” Louisa replied, slightly pink and flustered as she closed her book and took the hand that Benedict had extended to help her rise.

That simple contact and the warmth of her fingers in his created a powerful charge, its effect shooting into Benedict’s gut, his blood and his groin. The color of Louisa’s cheeks and the shyness of her eyes told him that she felt some similar reaction, especially when they both turned their heads at a rustling sound and observed Seraphine and Damien finally slipping away into the trees.

“We will stay here, in sight of the party,” Benedict reassured her, still speaking under his breath, “however much I wish that you were already mine and we too could seek the privacy of the forest.”

Louisa’s green-hazel eyes looked back at his with such bewildered but intense longing that it took all his energy to maintain his resolution and offer his arm in a civilized manner. She wanted him, she trusted him and they would so very soon be officially united. Benedict felt half-maddened by the natural urge to carry Louisa away and ravish her in some hidden glade.

“When you speak like that, Benedict, I…I do not know what to say,” she confessed, her blush deepening and her hand tightening on his arm. “When you are my husband, how should I respond?”

With your lips…

Benedict held back this first instinctive reply and the impulse to take her into his arms and better illustrate his meaning with kisses.

“I doubt there is anything you could ever say or do that would not be right, Louisa,” he told her instead and then changed the subject. “How was your conversation with the rector? He was not as I expected and I understand why you like him.”

“Mr. Terrence is a good sort of man, isn't he?” replied Louisa with a somewhat easier smile. “He spoke to me mainly about the nature of happiness. It was all rather philosophical. How about you?”

“Oh, we spoke of Rosemere and its ladies, then faith and duty, I suppose. I believe we were both more appreciating your aunt’s plum wine.”

Louisa laughed and the sound mingled with the birdsong and the chatter of the children, a short distance along the shore. It was a most wonderful sound and Benedict did not want it to stop.

“You look happy,” she observed, studying his face.

Happy? With a jolt, Benedict realized that Louisa was right. He was happy – but how could it be so? The two of them were being forced into marriage by circumstances beyond their control. At the same time, the security of Rosemere was menaced by a jealous and dangerous man. Both Benedict’s life and Louisa’s were being turned upside down, and yet he was happy…

Despite everything, the greatest fear on Benedict’s mind these past few hours was not the nuptial altar, nor Lord Ashbourne. It was the prospect of losing self-control in his physical ardor for Louisa. She too was a picture of apparent contentedness this afternoon, strolling beside him, with the sun in her golden hair and several loosened curls blowing in the wind.