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Benedict barely spared the girl a glance. “I beg to differ. I have never met this woman in my life. Don’t worry, I shall quickly remedy the mistake.”
Lord Nicholas smiled coldly. “Your dear grandmother assured me that you would wed my Louisa.”
“She was mistaken. I am sorry for any disappointment, Miss Parsons.”
Rosaline glanced over at the girl, Miss Louisa Parsons. She was still staring out of the window, seeming to take no interest in what was going on behind her at all. She wiped her hand across her cheek as though to wipe away a tear.
“You see, the thing is, Your Grace – may I call you Benedict?”
“No.”
Lord Nicholas chuckled. “So prickly. The thing is, Benedict, that you would do well to oblige me now.”
“And why’s that?”
He sighed, inspecting his nails. “How much do you know about your grandmother? I mean, really? Young people never know their parents very well, and their grandparents are always veritable strangers. She married the Duke of Keswick – not that he was the duke then, I don’t think – and led a merry, happy life from thereon in. Do you suppose that she has no secrets?”
Rosaline glanced up at Benedict. His eyes were blazing, and his hand kept tightening around hers. A muscle jumped and throbbed in his jaw.
“Idaresay everyone has secrets. I don’t care to know my grandmother’s. I suppose that if she wanted me to know, she would tell me, don’t you think?”
Lord Nicholas arched an eyebrow.
“Did you know that she agreed to make you marry Louisa in exchange for my silence?”
“Idon’t believe you.”
“It’s true. She was happy to all but sell you into matrimony to keep her own pride. She adores you, you know, and that oversized street rat she keeps around.”
“Icertainly hope you are not talking about my brother, Joshua.” Benedict grated. He let go of Rosaline’s hand, taking a threatening step forward.
Lord Nicholas barely flinched. He smiled wolfishly, his grin giving Rosaline shudders.
“Icould make things very difficult for the esteemed Dowager. Very hard indeed. She was sufficiently afraid of me to barter away her own grandson to keep me quiet. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
Rosaline glanced up at Benedict. His face was working, in tiny, subtle movements that most people would miss. He was angry, for sure, but afraid too.
“You’re lying.”
He grinned. “I’ve wagered rather a lot on a lie, then, don’t you think? Or perhaps we could ask the Dowager?”
“No! No.” Benedict muttered. “If you do know something about my grandmother, it can’t be worth much.”
Lord Nicholas laughed, throwing back his head. “My dear boy, your grandmother could be hanged for what I know about her!”
Benedict blanched. Impulsively, Rosaline reached out and grabbed his hand.
“Have you evidence?” Rosaline asked, a little afraid of how loud her voice sounded in the quiet, horrified room. “Can you prove what you say?”
“Not per se, but I’m a convincing man. There was enough of a scandal around this incident to convince people of the Dowager’s guilt.” He eyed Rosaline, curling his lip. “You can leave. None of this concerns you.”
Rosaline took a step forward, still holding Benedict’s hand.
“I’m going nowhere. This does concern me. You and your daughter are liars, and I’ll help Benedict to prove it.”
“You were the one who leaked the story to that gossip column.” Benedict said suddenly. “Or rather, the story as you believed it to be.”
Lord Nicholas took a seat again. He gave a shrug, picking non-existent lint off his trousers. “Does it matter?”
