Why did he always find himself at a dance…alone. Miranda was here, in an elegant green gown emphasizing all of the right places, but she was once again surrounded by men vying for her attention, or being twirled in the arms of one bloke after another on the dance floor. Despite what she said about the local townsfolk spurning her, she hadn't had a moment alone. And Benjamin knew, because he had been watching her most of the night. Rejection was clearly not a problem from the male quarter of Gloucester, supporting the theory he had shared with her that first day together.

Repeating the words "she's too good for you" in his head countless times this evening did not lessen the jealousy that reared up every time some gentleman made her laugh, or put his arms on hers while dancing. Sighing, Benjamin decided to take a break in the small corner sitting area he had discovered not long ago. With the screen separating the space, he wouldn't have to continue watching her while suffering inside. Except, of course, for the times he heard her infectious giggle across the room.

It wasn't long after taking a seat near the entrance of the alcove, he heard someone approaching. Rather than seeing a face, however, he saw the rear side of a gown as the lady backed her way into the corner. Everything happened quickly and before he knew it, the woman backed herself right into Benjamin's chair, lost her balance, and landed sitting right on his lap.

"Miranda, what on earth are you doing?" he asked, as his arms automatically tightening around her when she landed. He couldn't help but register the fact that she felt wonderful sitting against him.

Stealing a quick glace around to ensure they were alone, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a light kiss on his lips. "Here you are," she exclaimed. Then whispering, she asked, "Why are you hiding?"

Ever since they had first "practiced" kissing, Miranda had insisted on an endless amount of training sessions and consequently, was overly familiar with touching…and a little more. Not that Benjamin minded, but he didn't enjoy that it was under the guise of friendship. Of course, there was also the issue of protecting her reputation, but he seemed to be more concerned with that her.

"Miranda, please, anyone could come back here and see us, especially your entourage," he finished a little bitterly.

"Why do you think I was backing in? I made sure no one was looking," she smiled mischievously at him, remaining on his lap.

"Aren't you supposed to be dancing?" he prodded. It wasn't that he wanted her to go, and certainly not back to the throng of men, but she still had her arms around his neck. Every time his eyes wandered down he was hit with a revealing view of her cleavage and that toppled with the proximity was making it difficult to keep his body from responding.

"Oh, please don't remind me, the whole ordeal has been so tedious," she sighed. With twinkling eyes, she continued, "Actually, though, there was this one rather illusive man, whom I've desperately wanted to talk with all night. In fact, he's on my dance card for the next three dances."

Envy coursed through Benjamin until he realized she was speaking of him. "I see you've taken the liberty to sign my name. Three dances, no less. I must say, that's quite scandalous Miss Bailey. What will the townspeople think? Anything more than two dances and they'll be expecting to hear an engagement announcement," he taunted.

"Let them talk. Come, dance with me," and with that, she stood tugging him to his feet.

As the carriage jostled over the rough road, Benjamin's entire left side collided with Miranda's right. One wouldn't ordinarily think that arms and legs constantly bumping into each other in the tight confines of a carriage would be intimate, but it felt extraordinarily so to him. His senses were heightened by the interaction, but Miranda appeared unphased as she talked animatedly with Francesca and his father who sat on the opposite bench.

"How old is Lady Constance's castle?" she asked Sir Stuart.

"It dates back to the sixteenth century," he answered. "The original lord who built it was very wealthy, as well as peculiar. It seems he lived in constant fear of being overtaken, so besides being a grand estate, it's filled with countless secret passageways. I believe you'll quite enjoy it. Benjamin used to spend lots of time exploring different wings. I'm sure he can give you a thorough tour. In fact, he probably knows the place better than anyone living, since my sister uses only a few rooms."

Ever since being invited to Adwick Castle, Benjamin's aunt's home, Miranda had been a bundle of excitement. With an unadventurous father, she had little experience with travel, though she had confided to Benjamin, she desperately longed for it. He tried to tell her of all the exotic and non-exotic locations he had been to, and she had eagerly asked hundreds of questions, trying to glean every last bit of information. For this trip, he told her of the castle's history and the sites she would have to visit on the estate and in the town.

Now that they were so close, Benjamin could see her impatience at the long carriage ride and he hid a smile. Darkness began to overtake the landscape and he suggested she try to get some rest, as Francesca and Sir Stuart had long since fallen asleep.

Complying, she leaned her head on his shoulder and asked, "Do you mind being my pillow?"

Using her cloak to hide his inappropriateness, lest his parents wake, he wrapped his arm around her back pulling her even closer. "Of course not," he answered, sighing inside. Having her rest against him felt right, but with that thought, he once again mentally berated himself.

Yawning, she said tiredly, "I don't think I'll sleep, not with the bouncing and excitement." Hearing her breathing shortly after, however, Benjamin could discern that despite her words, she was fast asleep. Stroking her arm, he fervently hoped he would be able to find some relief in unconsciousness too.