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“Grandmother no…”
“Ihave come up with ten,” the Dowager continued relentlessly, “And I intend for you to spend time with each one of them. You will visit these women and spend time with them until you decide which one will suit you as a bride. You will not find more suitable women than this, let me tell you. They’re pretty, each and every one, all well-bred, all rich, and all interested in you.”
“Grandmother,no.” Benedict repeated faintly.
“Oh, yes, Benedict. I’ve spoken with them and their mothers, and they are eager to meet you in person. It is all arranged.”
“Icouldn’t possibly, there’s too much work on the estate for me to do.” Benedict said quickly. He was sure he could find some jobs to keep himself busy for most of the Season.
“Oh, I’ll do that for you.” Joshua said innocently. Benedict kicked him under the table, hard.
The Dowager wasn’t smiling.
“Iam your grandmother, Benedict. You may hold the title and most of our fortunes, but this is my house, and you are my blood. I still have some authority over you. If you have any respect and love for me at all, you will do as I command and meet with these ladies.”
There was a silence. Joshua had stopped smirking and was staring down at his dinner plate. Benedict bit his lip.
His grandmother couldn’t force him to do anything, of course.
But that didn’t mean much when he called upon to show his respect and love for the woman who’d raised him.
“Very well.” Benedict spoke finally. “I’ll do as you wish, Grandmother.”
“Good.” The Dowager nodded. She placed a slip of paper on the table and slid it across to Benedict. “This is the first lady on the list, a Miss Cordelia Atwood. Very suitable. I’ve compiled a list of her likes and dislikes and created some conversation starters for you to look at. You’re to call on her at three o’clock precisely this afternoon.”
Benedict took the slip. He had no intention of reading it. Whoever Miss Atwood was, she was bound to be unbearable.
CHAPTER2
“That’s the last of the tea, Papa, so savor it.” Rosaline said.
Matthew Wyre, Baron of Wyre, stared down at the grayish-looking tea with distaste.
“Is there any sugar?”
“No.”
The Baron sighed impatiently, as if it was his oldest daughter’s sole fault that they had not enough money to buy sugar -which was criminally expensive at the moment- and leaned forward to pick up his teacup.
“Isuppose it shall have to do.”
Rosaline stayed to make sure her father was drinking his tea, and not letting it sit on his coffee-table and go cold as usual, then turned and silently slipped out of his library. There was no point waiting for thanks, she’d learned that long ago.
It was horribly dusty in the library, and the dust made her want to cough. Unfortunately, all but one of the maids had given notice, and they had no money to hire any more. Poor Margaret was already strained to her limit, and it really wasn’t fair to ask her to spend a day cleaning that cavernous library. Her efforts probably wouldn’t even be appreciated.
So, the best course of action for dealing with the dirt in the library was simply to pretend that it was not there.
One couldn’t see cobwebs if one didn’t look up.
It was far easier to pretend that they didn’t notice the dust and cobwebs, or that they reallypreferredthe cheap, fatty cuts of bacon, or that they had Rosaline make tea every day simply because they were a delightfully quirky and intriguing family.
Pretending was better than reality, that was for sure, and Rosaline Wyre was very,verygood at it.
“What’s for dinner, Rosie?” one of the little ones called out as Rosaline passed the nursery.
“Tripe and roasted vegetables. Bread and butter. Cheese, and ham.” Rosaline called over her shoulder.
Achorus of groans came from inside the schoolroom.
