Suitors and Sabotage(43)
“Foolishness. A flight of fantasy that is part ridiculous, part delusion, and entirely impossible.”
“All the best dreams are.”
“Oh, Ben, is there no seriousness to you?”
“Absolutely. I seriously dislike green beans.”
Imogene chuckled and shook her head, finding more amusement in the comment than Ben thought warranted. She finally calmed, blinked, and then spoke in a rush. “I dream of having a school one day—an art academy for drawing and painting. I know I am young, inexperienced, and without funds, but dreams are, by their very nature, unattainable. Yes, there, you may laugh now.”
Ben looked up from his sketch with no inclination to comply. “That is a most exemplary dream, Imogene.”
It was … without a doubt. But where did Ernest fit within this dream? Was his brother waiting in the wings for nothing?
chapter 11
In which Ben is inundated with sentiment and doubt
With a deep sigh, Imogene stared at Ben as if trying to read his expression, as if trying to find the barb in his words. They stared at each other for quite some time, until Imogene’s mouth curled up ever so slightly. Then her eyes widened, she blinked again, and she leaned back.
“Please ignore my ramblings. I don’t know why I spoke. Only Emily is aware of this idiocy.” A sudden flush colored her cheeks with crimson, and she looked vastly uncomfortable. “I spoke out of turn. A bad habit of mine.”
With a laugh, edged with resignation, Ben shook his head. “I would never accuse you of speaking out of turn.”
“Be that as it may, I would prefer it not to be bandied about.”
“No bandying, I swear.”
“Not even Ernest.”
Ben’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then he nodded. “As you wish.”
Looking relieved, Imogene smiled her appreciation. “And you? Do you have some terrible secret that should never be exposed?”
About to argue over her definition of a terrible secret, Ben swallowed his retort and followed, instead, down the frivolous path she had taken. “Besides my dislike of green beans? Ah yes, I must confess to a decided lack of appreciation for the latest statue my parents sent from Italy. Carved by a great artist, or so I am told—but the boy is naked, with odd little wings sprouting from his back and a quiver full of arrows. Now really, what is that about?”
A giggle drew their attention to the door leading into the manor. “Cupid. That sounds like Cupid, Mr. Ben.”
“Ah, I think you might be right, Hardly Harriet.” Ben smiled at the young girl and then turned to greet Emily.
“Are you ready?” Emily asked, staying at the door while Harriet skipped over to the table.
“I believe so.” Ben collected his sketches and dropped them into his string-tie folder, pushing them to the center of the table, out of the way. They were not ready for the scrutiny of a twelve-year-old. He glanced at Imogene; she watched him with a half smile and a rather enigmatic expression.
“Scout out our location for tomorrow’s lesson,” she said, lifting her cheeks. Ben could have been mistaken, but it seemed as if her tone had a forlorn quality to it, though he did not know why.
“Yes, indeed. I am sure there will be plenty of choices.”
Emily had promised Ben a lengthy tour of the manor, top to bottom. He was quite looking forward to it. Turning toward Emily, he paused to admire her generous smile and pretty curls. Indeed, there was much to appreciate at Shackleford Park; he would have to thank his brother for the introduction some time. He was beginning to realize that young ladies and an architectural apprentice were not as mutually exclusive as he had once believed.
As he was just about to step across the threshold, Ben looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the charming tableau of two heads together as Imogene started Harriet’s lesson. However, Imogene was not looking at her next student, she was looking at her last.
She was staring at Ben.
Their eyes met and held. The rest of the room, the rest of the world, fell away, and there was nothing and no one to consider—just the two of them staring at each other for an eternity or two. Was it forever or a moment? And then Imogene frowned, breaking the spell.
Ben turned away. Listening to the pounding of his heart, he tried to breathe again and swallowed against the pain in his gut. He gestured Emily ahead because he could find no words to speak. He was a raw bundle of sentiment and doubt.
“Do you want to start in the attics or the cellars?” Emily asked in a perfectly normal tone, as if the world were the same as it had always been.
“Let us start in the cellars,” Ben said in much the same tone, even adding a smile and a wave for her to take the lead.
No one could know. No one could see the horror that crawled underneath his skin, the shout that was building in his chest. Why had this happened?
Ben felt sick as he skipped down the stairs after Emily. He placed her arm in the crook of his elbow, and they started down the hallway. As Emily pointed to this and that, he used a smile and a chuckle to hide his dreadful discovery.
Locked in Imogene’s gaze, Ben had wanted nothing more than to rush across the room, take her into his arms, kiss her until their knees gave way and they tumbled into a pile, and … He could take his thoughts no further in that direction—should take them no further.
Ben had always appreciated young ladies, been drawn to them, and greatly enjoyed their company. But never had he felt such a mixture of euphoria, excitement, and awe. Never before had he wanted to stay in any one person’s company … forever.