by Joyce Alec
She did not say anything but the smile he had been so desperate to see was now seemingly fixed in place, making him smile in return. The longer they danced, the more relaxed she appeared to be, softening in his arms as they continued to waltz. Benedict, too, found himself relaxing, thinking not of the smugglers or the threats that hung over their heads but rather simply thinking only of Miss Millerton.
Lord Hemsley had been quite correct in his suggestion that there was one particular young lady that Benedict was interested in. Of course, Benedict himself had believed that the reason his thoughts centered on Miss Millerton was solely because of what she had revealed to him, but now he recognized that there was something more going on within his heart. Something that he was not at all certain about.
The music began to slow, coming to the finale, and Benedict found himself entirely unwilling to let Miss Millerton free of his grasp. Instead, he wanted to keep dancing with her, keep holding her as close as he had been. But he could not do such a thing, not when there was company all around him.
You only wish to protect her, he told himself, stepping reluctantly back from the lady and bowing as she curtsied. You wish to protect her because you understand the great pain and distress she has been enduring. That is all.
Unfortunately, Benedict realized, he did not believe such a sentiment. There was more to what he felt than mere protection. Whilst he had every intention of finding a way to pull both himself and Miss Millerton free of this situation, would he thereafter be truly happy to wave her off, to send her back to her father’s house without any idea as to when he might see her again?
“Lord Knightsbridge?”
He blinked rapidly, realizing that Miss Millerton was now waiting for him to escort her from the floor, whilst the rest of the couples were already quickly dispersing. Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, he offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation.
“Forgive me,” he said, glancing down at her. “I was a little distracted by my own thoughts.”
She looked up and caught his eye. “There is no need to apologize,” she said with a small smile. “I know what is on your mind and you have every right to be distracted by your thoughts at present.”
Benedict smiled back at her but inwardly, he knew that she could not truly understand everything that was on his mind. He wished that he could remove such thoughts from himself, that he could return to where he had been only a few minutes before, where he had been thinking only of their situation instead of about Miss Millerton herself. But something had shifted within him as he had danced with her, something that he did not think would easily slot back into place. There was nothing more he could do but allow those considerations to pervade his mind now, so that he might think on Miss Millerton a little longer.
“You danced very well together!” his mother’s enthusiastic voice interrupted his thoughts.
Benedict smiled tightly, turned to Miss Millerton, and inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Millerton.” He glanced around the room, knowing full well that in stepping out for the waltz, he had resigned himself to dancing with the other young ladies present also. The excuse of his shoulder would not hold if he had already been able to dance. “Now, I suppose, I must seek out the next young lady for the next dance.” His brow lifted and his lips quirked as he saw his mother’s delighted smile. “Is that not so, Mother?”
Lady Knightsbridge flushed but Benedict knew all too well that this had been his mother’s precise intention. Clearly, she had thought his injury to be nothing more than an excuse given just how well he had behaved during the rest of the evening.
“I quite understand,” Miss Millerton said, a glimmer of a smile hiding behind her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Knightsbridge.”
He nodded, cleared his throat, and then bowed. “Good evening, Miss Millerton.”
“Good evening, Lord Knightsbridge.”
9
Susanna could not sleep. Today had been a day of astonishing revelations, of great shocks, and of overwhelming relief. She still could not quite believe that Lord Knightsbridge now knew of the notes, knew that she was the one responsible for sending them—and he had not held it against her. She had been quite certain that by this time this evening, she would be at her father’s house once more, thrown from Lord Knightsbridge’s house party and never again allowed in his presence.
But it was not to be so. Lord Knightsbridge was more wonderful in his understanding and kindness than she had ever expected. The way he had turned to her, the way he had spoken gently to her, had made her want to cry with relief. And she found great comfort in knowing that the burden that she had been carrying on her own for so long was now a shared burden, no longer as heavy as it had been before.
Sighing to herself, Susanna picked up the note that she had only just finished writing and felt her heart grow heavy. She had not had the opportunity to tell Lord Knightsbridge what was contained within, but she was certain that once he knew, he would find himself more distressed than he had been at present. Whilst she could have pulled him away again this evening for a few minutes to tell him what was coming, Susanna had not wanted to. He had been enjoying himself this evening, it seemed, even though initially he had been quite determined not to dance.
She smiled softly as she recalled their dance together. The waltz had been quite wonderful, for to dance in his arms as the music had played around them had felt like a magical dream. In those few minutes, she had forgotten about her own struggles and trials. Instead, she had let herself simply be contented in his arms, dancing together without any particular worry. It had been difficult for her to see Lord Knightsbridge dancing with the other young ladies, however. She had not expected it to be so, but there had been a strange twist in her heart as she had watched them step out together. Granted, they had not been dancing the waltz, but they had still been dancing. Why she had found herself battling jealousy, she did not know. There appeared to be no good reason for it, for Lord Knightsbridge was nothing to her other than a close acquaintance and now, of course, a confidante, but that did not mean that they were in any way romantically connected. She did not have any sort of affection for him, surely? Her heart was filled with nothing more than relief, with a gladness that she no longer had to deal with such a struggle alone.
“I cannot care for him,” she told herself sternly, looking down at the note again. “That would be foolish.”
Foolish it would be but that did not mean that those feelings were not already stirred within her. Closing her eyes, Susanna sighed heavily and ran one hand lightly over her forehead. Such thoughts and feelings would bring nothing more than difficulty and pain to her and she would not permit herself to dwell on such things.
The note.
Susanna scowled as she looked down at the note in her hand. She had to make her way below stairs and leave the letter to be found in the morning. She had done so before and would have to do so again, albeit in a rather hurried and fearful fashion. But what else could she do? She could not simply hand the note to Lord Knightsbridge, for even if he now knew all that she was involved in, if there was someone else in the house that was watching her, then they would expect her to deliver the note as she had done before.
Having already changed into her night things so as to satisfy her aunt that she had every intention of retiring, Susanna had no other choice but to pull a thick dressing gown over the top of her night clothes and belt it at the waist. Her soft slippers would keep her feet warm and she prayed that she would not take too long on her journey. Picking up the lit candle, she made her way to the door and slowly unlocked it, the note now pressed down into her pocket. The door swung open easily and without a sound, much to Susanna’s relief. Stealing from her room, she stopped suddenly, before turning around and hurrying back to fetch something.
If I should meet anyone, she told herself, a book now firmly in her other hand, then I shall say that I have been unable to sleep and now must return to the library so that I can change one book for another.
Satisfied with her quick thinking, Susanna made her way from the room for the second time, scurrying toward the staircase with all the nimbleness of a mouse. She made no sound other than the occasional creak or groan that came merely from the house itself, although it did send a shudder all the way down her spine. At the top of the staircase, she hesitated for a moment, taking in a steadying breath and telling herself that she had nothing to be concerned with. If anyone else was about, she had a reason for her walking about the house at night. Otherwise, she had to do what was expected of her, for fear that if she did not, there would be great consequences for not only herself but for Lord Knightsbridge also.
Her feet made no sound as she stepped down the staircase, taking the stairs one at a time so that she would not stumble. The candle flickered but she did not stop, suddenly eager to make her way below as quickly as possible. The front door was not far away and she would soon be back in her room.
A sudden sound had her stopping dead at the bottom of the staircase, one hand squeezing the book tightly for fear that she might drop it. She could not tell what the noise was or where it had come from, but it certainly had made her heart begin to pound with a panic that seemed to seize her whole being. It had been a loud creak, followed by another smaller one. Was someone nearby?
The note.
She had to leave it by the front door just as quickly as she could. To return to her room now would be foolish, no matter how frightened she had suddenly become. With her heart in her throat, she picked up her candle and hurried soundlessly across the floor, pulling the note from her pocket. Within a few moments, she had placed it down on the ground, as though someone had pushed it underneath the bottom of the door. Her task done, she turned around to go back to the staircase, only to hear another noise.
Sweat beaded on her brow as she waited desperately to hear if the sound would come again. It had been a very loud creak, one that had seemed out of place for the house itself. It sounded as though someone was moving around, as though they were walking about the house—although for what purpose, she did not know. Were they coming to seek her? Did someone know that this was what she was doing this evening?
You should go and search.
The very idea hit her like a hammer blow and she instantly shook her head to herself, as though to push her thoughts away. She could not go and search in the dark, not when there could well be danger in the house.
You must.
Thoughts of Lord Knightsbridge came back into her mind in a flurry. He was in as much danger as she, if not more. This was his house, his property, and yet it was being used against him. If she did not help him by simply going in search of where the noise was coming from, then was she not doing him a great disservice?
Her heart pounded as she recalled what the note had said. The brandy was to be removed from the cellar, whatever that meant, and he was to ensure that a ball was thrown for his guests by the end of their stay—which was only a few short days away. That seemed innocuous enough had it not been for the last part of her note. The note stated that Lord Knightsbridge, on the evening of the ball, was to ensure that the cellar door was left unlocked.
Again came the creaking sound and Susanna felt her heart thud furiously against her chest. Without hesitating, she blew out her candle and surrendered herself to the darkness, allowing it to envelop her. In an instant, she felt the safety and the security of the dark holding her tightly, relieved to know that now, she could not easily be seen. Forced to wait for a few minutes until the darkness had become a little clearer to her eyes, Susanna hurried to find somewhere to set down her candle and her book, knowing that she could not simply leave them on the floor to be found come the morning. Finding a small table, she set both down carefully and then turned around in the darkness, feeling the cold wall under her fingertips. Where had the sound come from?
This time when the sound came, Susanna was prepared. There came an echoing sound that she could not quite place, followed by a loud squeak as though something was being opened. Susanna felt her heart quake in her chest, but she ignored it with as much strength as she could muster. Lord Knightsbridge would be asleep in his bed, as would all of the other guests, and she was the only one who might be able to find out what was happening within the house when night had fallen and was holding everyone else tightly in its grasp.
Drawing in a deep breath, Susanna made her way toward where she thought the sound had come from, her feet making no sound on the floor. Her breathing was quick, her whole body tense, but still, she kept going. She could not fail now, not when she had found the courage to even consider searching a little further rather than returning to bed.
With another great breath, Susanna continued to move forward, finding herself close to Lord Knightsbridge’s study. She certainly would not have considered stepping inside without knocking, but it appeared as though someone else had. Even in the gloom, she could see the door was a little ajar, which meant that someone, surely, was within.
Another creak sounded, as though confirming to her that someone was inside the room. She realized that the squeak she had heard before had, most likely, been the door being pulled open so that the person could step inside.
Perhaps it is Lord Knightsbridge, she told herself firmly. And you are about to make a fool of yourself.
Susanna felt a flush of embarrassment creep into her cheeks as she waited outside the door, wondering what she ought to do. Should she knock and step inside?
But what if it is not Lord Knightsbridge? Her eyes turned back to the door. There does not appear to be any light coming from within.
Her heart dropped to the floor and then ricocheted back up into her chest as panic began to take hold. What if it was not Lord Knightsbridge within? What if she walked into the room to find someone else there, someone who was not expecting her? Was she then putting herself into even greater danger? After all, she realized, she was alone, and it could be more than one person within.
Her heart pounded and she began to step back carefully, looking all around her in an attempt to find a place to hide herself away. It would not be wise to burst into the room without anyone else present to come to her aid if it was not Lord Knightsbridge. Instead, she ought to simply wait until the person was finished with their task, whatever it was, and then left the room again. She might be able to see their face.
Grateful that she was wearing her long, dark dressing gown that hid most of her pale nightgown, Susanna clutched the material a little closer to her chest before turning around to look for somewhere suitable. If the person within was one of Lord Knightsbridge’s guests, as she now suspected, then they would have no reason not to return to their bedchamber. That meant that they would have to climb the staircase and there were plenty of places for Susanna to hide without being seen.
Turning on her heel, Susanna hurried back along the way she had come, feeling as though the person within the study was already fully aware of her presence. Thankfully, she soon found an excellent place to hide herself, stepping into the dark shadows that lingered behind the large potted plant that stood on a tall marble column a little away from the staircase itself. Pressing herself against the wall, she slid down carefully until her knees were pressed hard against her chest.
It was most uncomfortable, but Susanna did not utter a sound or move even an inch. Her hands were pressed together, her fingertips at her mouth as she steadied her breathing and kept herself as still and as quiet as possible. From where she sat, she would be able to catch a glimpse of the gentleman or lady as they passed, so long as they made for the staircase.
A sudden sound sent a warning ringing through her ears, her whole body tightening with the sudden tension of what she might now see. Her eyes closed as she heard the sound of a key scraping in a lock, only for there to come nothing more for a few moments. She frowned to herself, opening her eyes as she wondered whether or not the person had decided to go another way within the manor house.
But then, she heard a soft s
ound, so quiet that she had to strain to hear it. It came again and Susanna quickly realized what it was.
Someone was taking slow, careful steps toward the staircase. Susanna’s heart began to pound but she forced herself to keep her eyes open and her breathing as steady as she could manage. For a long time, she could see nothing out of the ordinary, her eyes well adjusted to the gloom by now.
And then, a shadow crept forward toward the stairs.
Susanna’s eyes widened. It was certainly a gentleman, given the outline of his frame, but she could not see his face. He hesitated, turning his head from left to right, and Susanna’s panic began to grow. Had he seen her? Did he know she was here? Hardly daring to breathe, Susanna kept her gaze fixed on the figure, seeing the first strains of light come through the large windows beside the front door.
After a few moments, the man began to walk again, his steps slow and careful. Susanna, with as much courage as she could muster, leaned carefully to one side, so that she might keep him in view. She did not think that he would be able to find her in the darkness, not when he was so intent on returning to wherever he had come from, but still the action took a good deal of courage.
The man turned suddenly, his features becoming a little more clear in the growing light. Susanna caught her breath, one hand pressed to her mouth as she slid back behind the marble column, too afraid to move. She was certain that she recognized the man, that she knew precisely who the gentleman was. But had he seen her? Did he know that she was watching him?
The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness as she waited in the dark. Her heart was still pounding furiously, her hands now clammy as she pressed them together. Any moment now, he would appear over her, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm. He would forcefully demand that she tell him what she was doing.
But nothing came.