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“She is too expensive.”
Benedict raised an eyebrow. Judging by the state of the Wyres’ house, and the eagerness with which Miss Wyre herself had agreed to court him for money, he guessed that the Wyre family could not afford so much as a glove made by Madame Contrefacon.
“Not for me.” Benedict said pointedly, climbing out of the carriage himself. “Now, let’s go in, shall we?”
Benedict had never enjoyed shopping for clothes. It was a necessary evil, and he disliked the plush faux luxury these places employed. It was all a means of wheedling more money out of the pockets of their customers.
However, when he glanced at his guest, Benedict did a double take.
Rosaline’s eyes were wide and round. She was staring around her as if she’d never been in place like this. She seemed to be enthralled, looking at the fabrics and colors with fascination.
Madame Contrefacon herself approached them. Her French accent was as false as her backstory, but she was clever with it. She was whip-thin, hard-faced behind her layers of powder and her false front, and her eyes were sharp and missed nothing. She must have sized up Benedict the instant he stepped into her shop, and instantly knew who he was and how likely he was to spend a lot of money.
She barely glanced twice at Rosaline, and not at Margaret at all.
“Your Grace, what a pleasure.” She said smoothly. “And Miss…?”
“Wyre.” Rosaline said, tilting up her chin in a gesture of defiance. Judging by the expression on Madame’s face when she registered the nameWyre, her defensiveness was warranted.
“Apleasure.” Madame said, with a tone that indicated it was anything but. “How may I help you today?”
She had turned slightly, a minute gesture that turned her away from Rosaline and towards Benedict. She had made it very clear that she wished only to talk to him.
“Your Grace,” Madame continued, her false French accent becoming more prominent, “I do not serve Miss Wyre, I am afraid.”
In the corner of his eye, Benedict could see Rosaline wilting. There were a few other customers in the shops, all well-dressed, high-born ladies with a nose for gossip and an eye for scandal, and they were all quite clearly straining to hear their conversation without actually seeming to listen in. Rosaline reached out as if to tug at his sleeve, a childish way of drawing his attention. She would want to leave, he knew. She’d want to slink out of here and never return.
Rosaline was about to learn that was not the way the Duke of Ice did things.
Oh, how he hated that ridiculous nickname.
“And why is that, Madame?” Benedict asked, keeping his gaze fixed firmly and unblinkingly on the modiste.”
To her credit, she didn’t waver.
“Baroness Wyre has outstanding payments owing.” Madame replied smoothly. “Some twelve pounds, eight shillings, and halfpence.”
“Goodness. You do keep immaculate accounts, Madame. I suppose every sequin in the building is accounted for and priced.”
It was meant to be a slight, and a slight spark of color appeared in Madame’s cheeks.
“Nevertheless, Your Grace, this person will not be served here.”
“This person?” Benedict stated. The two words rolled into the room like unexploded cannonballs, heavy and impossible to ignore. “This. Person. Are you referring to Miss Wyre, Madame?”
“Iam.”
“Icannot help but notice that Miss Wyre owes you no money at all. It the Baroness with whom you should take up your account.”
“Ihave quite given up on my money, Your Grace. As I say, we cannot…”
“Let me be clear.” Benedict interrupted. “All of Miss Wyre’s clothes will be paid for under my account. However, I am beginning to think that your modiste is not suitable for the quality and quantity of merchandise we intended to purchase.”
Madame reddened, eyes widening. She no doubt knew what sort of fortune Benedict had behind him. He could probably buy every roll of fabric, every button, every gown in the shop without missing a beat.
“Well, in that case…”
“In that case,Madame, I require an immediate, heartfelt apology to Miss Wyre. If at any point she feels as though she is not being treated as the most valued of customers at your dubious establishment, we shall leave for another facility, and not spend so much as a penny here. If, at the end of our transaction, if Miss Wyre is happy with your service and her items, then I shall pay Baroness Wyre’s bill.”
