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He would save them himself.
“Mama, Papa!” He screamed. “I’m coming. I’m going to get the door open.”
He wasn’t sure how much time he had wasted, lying insensible on the roadside. Help might be coming, but then again it might not.
“Mama! Papa! Can you hear me?”
The door was jammed, and the boy was too small and weak to open it.
There was no answer from inside the carriage. Giving up on the handle, the boy climbed onto the side of the carriage, which pointed up towards the grey, stormy side. He leaned forward to peer in through the window. Perhaps they were unconscious, or simply didn’t realize that he was here to help them. He squinted into the darkness, seeing two still shapes within.
He leaned closer, trying to decipher the scene within…
“Benedict, we’re here. Wake up!”
Benedict jerked awake, and almost screamed aloud to find himself inside a carriage.
He got ahold of himself in time, taking deep breaths through his nose and fighting the urge to throw open the carriage door and leap into the night.
The Dowager sat on the seat opposite, watching him.
“Iwouldn’t normally let you sleep on the way to a ball,” she observed, “It does make one look so rumpled, but you looked ever so tired. Did you not sleep well last night?”
Benedict smiled weakly. “No, I didn’t.”
“Nightmares?”
He nodded wordlessly. His grandmother’s expression softened, and he asked no more questions. Benedict was grateful. He glanced out of the window to see the brightly lit windows of Mr. and Mrs. Brummell’s home.
“So, why don’t we use this time to explain what, exactly, happened yesterday?” the Dowager asked, an edge to her voice. “Because let me tell you, Benedict, I was not happy to see you return home after Hyde ParkwithoutMiss Wyre. And no, I do not believe that you escorted her home. You would not have had time.”
“It was storming.” Benedict said tightly. “I had to return home at once.”
“So you let her go by herself? Good gracious, Benedict, I am not pleased to hear that. It isn’t gentlemanlike.”
“She can take care of herself, Grandmother.”
“That,” the Dowager said forcefully, “Isnotthe point. Did she return home safely? What did her parents say?”
“Her parents don’t give a damn about her, so long as she courts a duke.”
The Dowager pressed her lips together. “Well, all the more reason to take care of her.Didshe get home?”
“Yes. She sent me a note.”
“And why is she not with us tonight?”
Benedict glanced out of the window, watching the dark scenery pass by. Rosaline’s curt note had informed him that since her friend, Miss Cordelia Atwood, was going to the Brummell ball, she would travel with her.
There was no reason why she should not. Now that Society knew that they were “courting”, Rosaline could quite properly arrive with friends and family rather than him, so long as they were seen together and seen to be in love.
Of course, her parents ought to be taking her, but of course that wasn’t going to happen. Benedict found himself missing her chatter and excited smiles, and he hated himself for that.
The carriage joined the dozens of others approaching the Brummell’s home, and they all waited patiently for their turn to stop outside of the front door and climb down to greet their hosts.
When it was Benedict and the Dowager’s turn, most of the guests were already inside, and Benedict cursed his own lateness. If he’d arrived early, he would have been able to keep an eye on the guests and spot Rosaline as soon as she arrived. Whether she was already here or not, he would struggle to track her down in the crowds.
Mr. and Mrs. Brummell waited to greet them in the hallway. They were a tall, handsome, and elegant pair. Mr. Brummell was dark-haired and extremely handsome and was an excessively wealthy man. Mrs. Brummell – previously Miss White – was a spirited, red-haired young woman without a penny to her name who had set Society aflame during her first and only Season. They were considered the most fashionable couple in London, and even Benedict felt inclined to treat Mr. Brummell with a little extra respect.
