Ben’s nostrils flared. “I would have—”
“What?” Garrett was standing in front of him now, leaning over him like one of their tutors from school. “You’d have mouthed off to her uncle, the man who got youout of jail? Jumped in the river and chased the boat down, then married her while her fiancé cheered you on?”
“Garrett, don’t be mean,” Abby called, leaning out of the kitchen and scolding him with a whisk.
“I’m rarely mean without purpose, and this has a purpose,” Garrett fired back. “Sitting here moping will not change anything.”
“Then what should he do?” Cass asked from Ben’s side, her eyes narrowed.
“He needs to get his head out of his ass and do the right thing.”
Ben’s response was a growl. “And what’s the right thing?”
“Go get her!” Garrett howled.
Utter silence blanketed the room for several long moments. Eventually, Abby peered out of the kitchen and breathed a sigh. “Oh good, you’re not dead. I worried Ben’s head had exploded and killed you all in the process.”
Cass laid her hand over Ben’s, and he was surprised to find he was trembling. “What are you going to do? Whatever it is, we’ll support you.”
He exhaled haltingly, the panic in his chest ebbing enough to allow air to pass. “Do you think I should go to England?”
“I do,” Cass replied.
“Fuck, yes,” Garrett muttered.
“Yes,” Abby squealed, thrusting her whisk into the air like a sword and sending a clump of batter flying. “Go rescue your princess!”
Ben deflated again, his temporary excitement replaced by sorrow. “She left days ago. She’s probably already married by now, and—”
“Not true,” Garrett interjected. “They haven’t read the banns yet, that takes weeks, and even if he got a special license, they would still need several days to make arrangements.”
Cass, Abby, and Ben stared at him. Finally, Abby spoke. “I understand nothing you just said.”
Ben picked his jaw off the ground. “How do you know all this?”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Iread, you uncultured swine. Common knowledge amongst the romantic set. Now, how quickly can you be packed?”
Ben shook his head and put his hands up in a defensive pose. “I can’t do this. What if she doesn’t want me—”
Garrett grabbed both his arms and hauled him up to his feet, then shoved him towards the door. He called over his shoulder, “Abby, get to the pier and buy him a ticket.” He released Ben’s arm long enough to extract Ben’s billfold and toss it to her. “Cass, can you pack a bag for him?”
Ben sputtered his protests. “I need to cable her—shit, I don’t even know where she lives, I can’t just—”
“Shut up,” Garrett replied, not slowing his pace. “Just go. Surprise her. Women love romantic gestures, the grander the better.” He froze, sniffed audibly, and groaned his disgust. “But first, we need to make you presentable.”
Chapter 34
Roseworeaballgown like a second skin. The exquisite Doucet frock of crushed lilac silk and velvet trimming, a gift from Timothy, molded to her curves like an extension of her body. Anyone looking at her would assume her hair was always styled in intricate curls piled on her head, that the diamonds hanging from her ears and neck were commonplace accessories. A casual observer would never believe that a mere fortnight ago, she only wore secondhand fabrics, hands dirty and calloused, her chestnut hair in an economical braid down her back. Her transformation was a Cinderella story for the ages.
If only Cinderella didn’t desperately wish to go back to scrubbing floors.
Hundreds of England’s finest had crowded Ashburn Hall, Timothy’s ancestral estate that abutted her family’s crumbling residence at Boar’s Hill. When the dowager marchioness issued the last-minute invitations to everyone of consequence, the rumor mill burst with rampant with speculation. Was the evasive Marquess of Trembly finally settling down? When guests discovered Rose, the former diamond of theton, standing by his side in the latest fashion, the gossips verged on apoplexy.
Was the paste jewel of the ton becoming a diamond once more?
After greeting the guests with a strained smile and empty platitudes, Rose retreated to the gallery where she could observe the proceedings from above. Those who snubbed her mere months before gazed up at her and beamed, lifting silent toasts as though they were her subjects and she a benevolent monarch.
Wasn’t this precisely what she wanted, to be back at the top of society? To have the gossips eating their words, regretting turning their backs on her?
