Page 24 of On a Midsummer Night
He suspected Beth was reliving that moment, for her gaze was intent on his face, gracefully following his lead around the dance floor. Her next words were confirmation.
“It feels as if this has happened before.”
“It does.”
Her velvet brown eyes sparkled. “Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Would she follow him?
The thought ran on a loop through Henry’s mind as he slipped from the busy ballroom and into the garden surrounding the Rochesters’ home. As one of the wealthiest families in Bristol, their home was grand and stately, the window boxes on the front windows filled with immaculately tended blooms in shades of red and yellow, matching the Rochester family crest. But it was their garden, with its sparkling pond, colorful rose arbor, and expertly trimmed hedges, which was the crown jewel of Rochester House.
It was the perfect setting for a budding romance . . . or so Henry had heard bandied about that night.
That was why he’d hesitated by the terrace door, his eyes briefly meeting hers with a question—a challenge—before he’d disappeared into the perfumed night. But would she come?
After a fortnight of witty banter, flirtatious glances, and discreet brushing of hands, Henry was certain he’d never felt this way about another woman. Oh, he knew he was young, but he trusted how he felt. Beth Dalton made him smile; made him laugh; made his hands clench in want when she was close. Her intoxicating scent sent tingles down his spine. And if her shy but direct smiles were any indications, he’d guess Beth was a bit infatuated with him too.
Doubts bombarded him as he paced around the fountain in the center of the garden, his eyes straining in the moonlight for the sight of her. He did not have to search for long, for suddenly she was there, yards away, a bashful smile curling her lips.
His feet approached her without thought, his whole body vibrating with excitement. Should he propose? Declare his intentions to speak with her mother and Oliver, since her father was away at sea?
With her lip tucked between her teeth, Beth walked toward him in turn, wringing her hands nervously. Triumph flared through his blood when they stopped before each other, glimpsing the same desire simmering in her eyes as he felt pooling in his gut.
And yet, he did not touch her. Instead, Henry swept his gaze about the dark gardens again.
“I can’t help but think that Oliver would be apoplectic to find us alone together here.”
Beth’s chuckle broke through the tension. “Do you think so?”
“Of course.” Henry tugged on his earlobe. “You’re his sister. The sister who I felt I knew even before I met you because he spoke of you so frequently. If he knew what I had planned . . .”
Beth pursed her lips. “And what do you have planned, Henry?”
Her tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but her mien was anything but. Henry’s lips tipped up into a smirk in response.
“So imperious. So assured.” He took a step closer until the broad expanse of his chest brushed against the soft peaks of hers. “Lud, but anticipating your next jab, your next move, has slowly been driving me mad.”
Beth blinked, the pink touching her cheekbones visible in the scant light.
“We don’t have long.” Henry glanced up the path she had traversed before scanning about the space. When his eyes returned to hers, impatience crept under his skin. “I dare not expose you to scandal.”
The pale column of her throat bobbed on a swallow. “Then what is it?”
Emboldened, Henry wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her flush with his body. He worked to ignore how his hand encompassed the expanse of her back, how his brain was immediately addled by the scent and feel of her against him. He’d had other women before, but he had never wanted one like this, and he would never do so again. Beth would be the theonlyfor the rest of his life.
Henry tried to wrangle control of his tumultuous thoughts. “I had no pretenses for accepting your brother’s invitation to return with him to Bristol. He warned me that while Bristol was not lively or cosmopolitan like London, it was authentic and real, and he wanted to show it to me.”
Oliver had been right; Bristol was all those things. And somehow, Beth made it more.
“And I’m so glad I accepted, or else I wouldn’t have met you,” he whispered.
She smiled. “Perhaps not. Or perhaps fate would have brought us together at some distant time.”
“Perhaps.” He inhaled bravery. “But I would like to ask you now if I have your permission to call on your mother and brother tomorrow?”
She jerked back, her hand flying to her mouth. “You wish to speak to them?”
