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“I heard you accompanied Emily to Madame Dubois last week,” Lady Rutbridge parried weakly, refusing to acknowledge defeat.
“Yes,” the Earl sighed dramatically. “Apparently, my father could barely afford another season, and gowns were an expensive commodity. Seeing as Emily will need to be dressed well to secure a suitable match, I considered it my duty as her brother to aid her in that matter.”
As expected of Benedict, he spared no one’s feelings whenever he opened his mouth.
The Marchioness was about to defend herself when they heard the door open, and the sound of Jenny’s voice floated from upstairs.
“Milady, do not forget yer fan!” the maid called out.
“I have no time to waste,” Emily’s softer voice replied. “Are you sure Benedict received my message to come and accompany me tonight?”
Benedict grinned and hollered at her, “I have been waiting for decades here! Are you finally done?”
At the sound of her brother’s voice, Emily smiled in relief. She turned around to face Jenny and asked, “How do I look? Do I look all right? I have never worn something so splendid in my entire life…”
“Milady, ye look like a goddess!” the maid laughed, steering her towards the stairs. “Now, go! Ye’ll be late for the ball, and His Grace is countin’ on you to make an appearance tonight!”
Emily flushed a pretty shade of pink, and with one final smiling nod at her maid, she began to step out of the shadows and down the stairs.
As soon as Benedict saw his sister, his smile froze in his face. He had always known that Emily was pretty—she was his sister, after all, and he was biased on that account—but tonight was the first time that he actuallyfearedthat his sister possessed the charms necessary to heat a man’s blood.
Draped in a gown of soft gold satin with a shimmering gauze overlay, Emily fairly glowed under the light of the chandelier, her luminous complexion almost incandescent. Her thick, red-gold hair was piled into an elegant coiffure with soft tendrils left to frame her delicately rounded face.
Lady Rutbridge and Amy were similarly shocked at her stunning appearance, especially since they could not remember purchasing such an extravagant dress!
“Mama…!” Amy turned to her mother with a complaint already lodged in her throat.
Lady Rutbridge immediately silenced her daughter with a quelling look as she bustled up to the front of their small group with an insincere smile.
“Child, what are you wearing?” she exclaimed, her tone dripping with false concern. “The neckline is so indecently low, and the color is so gaudy it hurts the eyes!”
Emily immediately balked at her stepmother’s words, her old insecurities bubbling close to the surface.
Does…does the dress not suit me? Perhaps I thought wrong…
“Nothing is wrong with the dress,” Benedict snapped, stepping forward and offering Emily his arm. He looked scornfully at his stepmother and half-sister. “Amy’s neckline is the slightest bit lower. It is your eyes that need correcting!”
“H—how dare you!”
“We are running late,” he cut in. “Come, Emily.”
Emily stifled the nervous laughter that bubbled up her throat at the sight of her stepmother gaping like a landed halibut at the foot of the stairs.
“It was hardly necessary, but thank you,” she told her brother, her eyes shining with relief.
“You summoned me here for this particular reason, am I right?” he replied.
“That is correct.” Emily shook her head ruefully. “I was afraid Lady Rutbridge would make me change into that hideous dress she had prepared for me if you were not around.”
Benedict sighed and patted her hand before helping her up to his carriage. “You must learn to stand your ground, my dear. Vile creatures like Lady Rutbridge are all over the place. It is only our father who thinks her a dear, sweet creature.”
Emily smiled at him. As expected, her brother’s sharp tongue was in fine form tonight.
“But that is a rather splendid dress you have there,” he mused. “Will Madame Dubois strip me of my fortune for it?”
Emily laughed and shook her head. “It was not Madame Dubois who made it but Madame Estelle.”
“Madame Estelle?” he echoed in disbelief. “But—but she is the most popular andexpensivemodiste in all of London. Bloody hell, evenIhave heard of her!”
