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It was going to be harder than she had ever imagined.
“Rosaline?” Benedict asked, his voice impossibly soft. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t understand what I’m trying to say, Benedict.”
“Then tell me. Tell me what you’re trying to say. I want to understand, Rosaline. I do. I care about you.”
“Have you ever tried to mix oil and water?”
She turned back to Benedict, who was frowned.
“What? What do you mean? Oil and water don’t mix.”
Rosaline smiled sadly. “Exactly. You’d think that they would, wouldn’t you? They’re both liquids, after all. But no, you can’t mix them. I’m starting to think that you and I are like oil and water.”
“No, Rosaline, no. You can’t compare… compareliquidsto you and me. We’re humans, and there’s no reason why we can’t make our relationship work.”
“It’s not real, Benedict!”
“It could be!” Benedict shot back. “It’s real to me!”
There was a long silence. Spots of color had leapt to his cheeks. Aside from their intimate moments yesterday, Rosaline had never seen him so animated, so emotional.
His breath came hard, his chest heaving, and he clenched his fists by his side.
“Rosaline, don’t do this.” He said, after a pause. “Please. Let’s not end our relationship over some trashy, poorly written piece of gossip in a pamphlet designed to shock and scare theton. Let’s just rise above it.”
Rosaline smiled weakly. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Benedict. This has to end.”
“Rosaline…”
“It’s Miss Wyre, please, Your Grace.”
Benedict drew in a sharp breath, taking a step forward.
“Listen. Just hear me out, please. Something is going on here. Someone is creating trouble for us, and I can find out who it is. Give me some time to find this man, this so-calledgentlemanwho is apparently such firm friends with my grandmother. I’m in the perfect position to expose him. When I do, I’ll make sure the story is set right. I’ll make the pamphlet print a retraction, even if I have to hire every private investigator in the city to get to the bottom of this. Just give me a few days, Rosaline. You’ll see, it’ll all blow over. Will you do it?”
Rosaline stepped forward, reaching up to cup Benedict’s cheek. It was a scandalous display of affection for a public street, earning them a few disapproving stares, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She pushed the pamphlet, now crumpled and tattered, into his hands.
“I’m sorry, Benedict.” She murmured. “I’m so sorry. It’s over. I wish… I wish things could be different. I wish that with all my heart. But wishes aren’t something we can rely on, Benedict. I’m sorry, but this is how it must be.”
She turned and began to walk back the way she’d come, leaving Benedict standing on the street, staring after her with the gossip column still clutched in his hands.
As soon as Rosaline set eyes on Cordelia, she burst into tears.
Cordelia pressed her lips together, dismissing the butler with a wave of her fingers. She ushered Rosaline over to the sofa, not saying a word, and offered her a cup of tea.
Rosaline drank it down, sniffling miserably.
“Tell me what happened.” Cordelia said quietly.
“The gossip column.” Rosaline murmured. “Did you read it? I can tell you what it said.”
“Iread it already. I don’t care to hear it again.”
Rosaline blinked. “You’ve read it? You never said anything to me.”
“Why would I? It’s clearly rubbish. I know you, Rosaline. You’re my friend, and this isn’t you. I crumpled it up and threw it in the fire, which is where I suggest you leave this one. Why, is the Duke giving it credit?”
