Page 20 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
He was at the front door of the baron’s house now, and shortly after he knocked, the door was opened by a liveried butler, who ushered him inside to wait for Alice in the hallway.
He did not have too long to wait, though; soon, he heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see her walking down the stairs towards him, a shy smile on her face. She was impeccably dressed in a fashionable walking dress, with a parasol dangling from her arm, and he realized as he looked at her that he had never seen anything lovelier.
He felt something stirring inside him and he tried to suppress the sensation. It would not do to get carried away with such thoughts, or to allow himself to imagine the things that they might do if they were alone together. No, they would take a walk now in the park and he would endeavor to make her fall in love with him, and then he would be ready to enact the next part of his plan.
“Miss Dunberry,” he said in greeting. He smiled to himself as he saw her face glowing as she returned his smile. “Shall we go to Hyde Park and take in the sights?”
She nodded happily. “Sarah will come with us,” she said, indicating to where her maid stood behind her.
“Of course,” Benedict said, then offered her his arm. “Let us go.”
***
They had barely even entered the park before their easy conversation returned, and Benedict could not help but think that it was remarkable how quickly he relaxed in Alice’s presence.
“So how far have you progressed with your book?” he asked her, as they walked arm-in-arm along a gravel path which cut through a patch of shady trees.
Alice’s eyes lit up at the question. “Well of course I only bought it yesterday,” she replied, “but I am enjoying it very much already. It is already helping me to understand Plato’s work better, which is why I wanted to read it in the first place.”
Benedict smiled at her enthusiasm. There were not many young ladies who would talk so excitedly about Plato, he supposed. “And what do you think you will read next?” he asked.
Alice paused for a moment. “You know, I should not admit to it, but I do like novels as well as the more improving kind of books.”
“And do you have a particular novel in mind?”
She nodded. “My father has been collecting the novels of Sir Walter Scott and I was planning to ask him to lend me one.”
“Ah, I have enjoyed his novels!” Benedict enthused.
They continued on their walk, chatting about the novels they had read, and by the time they reached the Serpentine, the vast stretch of water in the middle of the park, Benedict felt as if they had covered the complete works of Scott and a good many other writers too.
He reflected that he would probably have felt rather awkward having such a conversation with anyone else; it always seemed rather gauche to him to show much enthusiasm for anything. But with Alice, he felt that he could talk of his passions and his interests without shame or embarrassment. In her company, he truly felt that he could be himself.
He looked at her as she walked along next to him. A tendril of long blonde hair was escaping from her bonnet, and he had to resist the urge to reach up and push it away from her face. How could it be that she seemed so familiar to him? It made no sense.
She was the baron’s daughter, yes, but he had never spent any time with the family. He searched his memory, but he was sure they had never met. She had not even lived with her father and stepmother, as far as he could remember. And yet, something about the way she walked, the way she laughed, was so familiar to him and he felt almost as if she was tugging at his memory, that there was some hidden secret that would be revealed once he remembered who she was.
He forced himself to focus. The whole thing was ludicrous. They had never met before now. The baron’s daughter had lived with her aunt, he recalled. And the easy familiarity he felt with Alice was nothing more than a coincidence, which only served to make the task in hand much easier.
They had been walking in the park for an hour or so, when Sarah, who had been walking along a little distance behind them, moved a little closer and cleared her throat.
“Miss, I think we should be returning home now. It is nearly time for tea, and you know how strongly the baroness feels about meals being taken on time.”
Alice nodded. “Gosh, I had not realized that we had been out for so long. Yes, indeed, thank you Sarah.” She turned to Benedict. “Sarah is right. I must return home.”
Benedict smiled. “Then of course I shall escort you,” he said, taking her arm again. He felt that strange pang in his heart again at the thought of parting from her, but forced himself not to indulge it. He would walk her home and leave her at the door, and make an arrangement to call on her again soon.
But when they arrived, Dorothea was waiting for them in the entrance hall.
“Mr. Fletcher, you must join us for tea!” she declared, almost as soon as they had walked through the door.
Benedict felt a surge of panic coursing through him. He had resolved, since formulating his plan regarding Alice, that in fact it would be safer for him not to spend too much time in amongst Alice’s family, in case someone recognized him.
If either the baron or his wife realized who he really was, then of course they would warn Alice to stay away from him. They would not allow her to spend time with the son of a man who they believed had robbed them, and the whole plan would collapse.
But how could he now refuse this invitation? It would seem terribly rude, and also not in keeping with his plan to make it seem like he was paying court to Alice. Of course he would accept the invitation, to give him the chance to spend more time with her. It would be madness to refuse it. He would have to take the risk.
“My Lady, I would be delighted,” he replied smoothly, allowing himself a sly glance at Alice, and enjoying the smile that came along with his acceptance.
