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Lady Everett fidgeted in her seat. “But Miss Wyre’s family…”
“Will not be escorting her into Society.” Benedict finished. “This is what I love about you, Lady Everett – your concern for others.”
The faux compliment was delivered blandly and innocently, and it got the required reaction. Lady Everett flushed red and cleared her throat.
“Well, that is certainly something. I have learned a lot today, Your Grace.”
Now for the final stroke. As they were rising to leave, Lady Harriet finally reacting to her mother’s frantic, meaningful glares, Benedict leant forward, holding out a hand to detain them.
“Of course, Lady Everett, I’m sure it goes without saying that I don’t wish this to be spoken of. I know how you despise gossip, of course, but I wish to wait to introduce Miss Wyre as my prospective fiancé. I’m sure you understand.”
“But of course, Your Grace. I am the soul of discretion,” Lady Everett said generously, patting his arm. “Now, I’m sure we will see you – and Miss Wyre – at the next ball.”
“Quite right, Lady Everett. Good day to you both.”
Benedict watched the two ladies hurry out of the door, and only then did he allow himself to smile.
He’d just ensured that the news that the Duke of Keswick was courting Miss Rosaline Wyre, of the disgraced Wyre family would spread. No one else would speak of anything else until the next ball, with desperate mammas and ambitious ladies hoping against hope that it was not true. When he appeared with Rosaline, their fears would be confirmed, their curiosities set to rest.
The Duke of Ice would no longer be a single man. Miss Wyre, once a disgraced and unimportant nobody, would be interesting. It was a marvelous plan, and Benedict was pleased with himself for coming up with it. Asking a famous gossip to keep a juicy piece of gossip to herself was a sure-fire way of making sure that one’s news would spread even more quickly.
Thank goodness I don’t have any real secrets to hide,Benedict thought.Let’s hope Rosaline doesn’t, either.
When the carriage pulled up outside Madame’s shop and the ladies came out, Benedict thanked his lucky stars he’d decided to bring the bigger carriage. He’d known in theory that he was buying Rosaline a whole new wardrobe, but the reality of the sheeramountof clothes was something else.
Boxes and boxes andboxeswere carried out of the shop, lashed onto the top of the carriage, beside the driver, and even inside the carriage itself until Benedict wasn’t sure if they would even fit.
Rosaline stood by, her expression carefully blank. Benedict approached her, and she said nothing to begin with.
Act more like a devoted lover, you foolish girl,Benedict thought. Still, perhaps this was his own fault. He’d specified the beginning of their “courtship”, and Rosaline didn’t know about the conversation he’d had with Lady Everett. She didn’t know that it had already begun.
Benedict cleared his throat, offering his arm, and Rosaline had the good sense to take it.
“Did you get everything you need?” he asked casually. He’d lost count of the bags and boxes taken out of the shop. Was there any merchandise left inside?
“Yes, and far more.” Rosaline said, eyes following a large, pink hatbox pass by. “I don’t need all of this. Madame will present you with a bill to check before any of this is taken home.”
Benedict pressed his lips together. “That’s not how this is done. Modistes don’t present bills to clients like us.”
“Clients like you.” Rosaline corrected. “Please, I’d like you to see how much all of this will cost. For my own piece of mind, please.”
Benedict sighed. “Very well.”
The last of the boxes was finally secured to the carriage, Madame came sidling out, a piece of paper clutched in her hand.
Benedict set his jaw. Fine. If Madame wanted to act like a mistrustful salesperson, she would be treated like one. He held out his hand for the bill, and she gave it.
He scanned the extensive list of items. The number written at the bottom would have made a lesser man faint. If by “lesser man” one meant “poorer man”. Buying an entire wardrobe for a lady from a place like Madame’s facility was never going to be cheap.
Even so, Benedict didn’t bat an eyelid. Not only was the number something he could easily afford a hundred times over, but he was also aware that Rosaline was watching his face, waiting for some reaction. Shock, perhaps, anger, or a demand for as explanation as tohowthis obscene number had been reached.
He noticed that Madame had added Baroness Wyre’s bill at the bottom, without bothering to ask. Oh well. She had been comprehensive in her duties towards Rosaline – everything a young lady could possibly need was here.
He handed the bill back with a nod. “Very well. Apply to my accountant tomorrow and the bill will be settled at once.”
Madame brightened. “Very good, Your Grace. May I say that Miss Wyre has been a pleasure to serve.”
Oddly enough, Benedict felt as though Madame really meant that, and it was more than just an empty compliment. He was reminded of how much Harriet had liked Rosaline.
