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“Soaking up tonight’s gossip, I should imagine. Now, you can find your Miss Wyre with Miss Atwood. Last I saw them, they were on the balcony together, enjoying the cool night air. Neither lady seemed to enjoy the crowds.”
“Icannot blame them. Thank you, Brummell. I shall formulate my apology at once.”
Brummell slapped him on the shoulder, making Benedict stumble. The two men were exactly the same height. In fact, Brummell was a little heavier and stronger, being a keen boxer in his youth.
“You are quite welcome. I suggest you hurry, by the way. As I said before, your Miss Wyre is quite popular, and her dance card is almost full. If you don’t wish her to quite forget about you, I should make haste.”
CHAPTER17
Benedict paused just before the entrance to the balcony door. Was this… was thisnerves? Was he really nervous to confront a little chit like Miss Wyre? Why on earth should he care what she thought, after all.
Benedict closed his eyes, willing himself to summon up some composure. He knew that he’d acted badly, that was clear, but… but somehow, the idea of confronting Miss Wyre about his bad behavior seemed too difficult.
Come now, Benedict. Hawks don’t falter, do they? Time to be a man and offer an apology.
Benedict took a breath and moved towards the doorway.
Ayoung lady stepped in his way, arms folded, and glared at him.
“The Duke of Keswick, I assume.” She said.
Benedict stared down at her for a minute. She was a very young woman, with fair curls and a resplendent pink dress. She didn’t seem familiar, and he wasn’t sure whether they had ever been introduced.
Then the penny dropped.
“That is correct. Am I addressing Miss Cordelia Atwood?”
Miss Atwood narrowed her eyes. “You are.”
“Hm. You are the young lady who rather kindly set me up to meet my delightful Miss Wyre. I owe you my thanks.”
“Let’s cut the nonsense, Your Grace. Rosaline has told me everything about your… courtship.” She placed just the right emphasis on “courtship” to make it clear that she really did understand what was going on. Benedict set his jaw. He wasn’t sure he liked that. No doubt these two girls were close – as evidenced by the fact Miss Atwood had recruited Rosaline to meet him in her place – but he wasn’t pleased that this stranger knew about their false courtship.
“Isee. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with Miss Wyre.” Benedict moved to step around her, but Miss Atwood neatly stepped with him, staying in his way.
“She told me that you abandoned her in the Park yesterday.”
It was an accusation, plain and simple. Benedict forced a small, cold smile.
“It was a mistake. If you’d let me get by, I would now be apologizing to her.”
Miss Atwood narrowed her eyes, folding her arms tighter. “I’m not sure she wants to talk to you right now.”
“Perhaps we can trust Miss Wyre to make her own decisions, hm?”
She lifted her chin. “Rosaline needs friends to stand up for her. I don’t think you ought to talk to her right now.”
Benedict let his smile show some teeth. He leaned forward until he was more or less on eye level with Miss Atwood.
“Hm. Miss Atwood, let me be clear. You’re going to get out of my way and skip off into the ballroom to enjoy the party and allow me to speak privately to Miss Wyre. If you don’t, I’m going to pick you up and hurl you over that balcony. The rose bushes should break your fall, but I think your dress will be ruined.”
Miss Atwood blanched.
Not waiting for her reply, Benedict straightened up and stepped neatly around her. Miss Atwood rather wisely decided not to follow. When Benedict glanced over his shoulder, she had gone, melted away into the crowd.
Rosaline stood at the balcony wall, staring out into the dark.
“You’re back quickly, Delia.” She said, not turning around. “Did they run out of punch?”
