Page 42 of To Defend a Damaged Duke
“I didn’t know,” Benedict hazarded, unsure whether a response was required.
A powder-blue and mud-brown waistcoat corseting the tailor’s dummy snagged Rossingley’s attention.Benedict held his breath.Already, he’d spent longer in the outfitters than his last three previous trips combined.With a wave of his elegant hand, Rossingley dismissed the waistcoat.Benedict breathed out.
“If that isn’t proof those two colours should never be seen together, then I don’t know what is,” the earl declared.
Rossingley studied Benedict as the apprentice scuttled over to remove the offending palette.“A light shade of bilberry would be an excellent choice for you, darling, if only we could find the right one.I’m not saying for a minute that you’re notravishingin slate grey and black.”He treated Benedict to the kind of smile that reduced him to a blushing youth again.“Far from it.But a pop of colour will ensure you are so much morewelcoming.”
Before Benedict could mutter something about disliking the tartness of bilberries or, indeed, appearing welcoming, Rossingley pounced on a bolt of cloth named something or other complicated and tapped on it.
“Yes!This is perfect.It will effortlessly bring out the deep tones in your complexion and provide a most alluring look.”Stretching the cloth out, he sighed.“You are lucky you can get away with it, Ashington.My dear Kit carries these shades off marvellously too.But when one is as fair as me and Tommy, it can be the devil’s work ensuring one’s colour isn’t sapped by one’s waistcoat.The two of us lament it often.But, on you, this Persian indigo, here, paired with that papaya silk, there, will have thetonpositively salivating.”
“Um…yes.”Benedict nodded at the cloth, feeling a need to contribute.Focusing on the task at hand had proved difficult ever since Rossingley’s mention of Tommy.He could have agreed to dress in a monk’s habit trimmed with gold leaf, for all it would have dislodged the delicious memory of yanking the man down into his lap and Tommy’s warm palm curled around—
“Papaya is so summery.It lifts one’s mood even in the depths of winter, don’t you find?”
“Um, yes.Absolutely.”Benedict didn’t care to admit not knowing the colour of papaya.It seemed too much to hope the fruit was an acceptable shade of dark blue.He ran his hand over both bolts of cloth as it seemed the right thing to do.“I have a navy cravat similar to this,” he ventured.
“Persian indigo,” corrected the earl in a voice brooking no disagreement.“And I think we should also have it made up into a tailcoat.”Lips pursued in concentration, he made an unexpected lunge towards Benedict and ran expert hands along the shoulder seams of the duke’s tailcoat, then tracked them down the length of Benedict’s arms, something no man except his valet had done—ever.
“Hmm.Whilst this is exquisitely made, Ashington, I feel we should cinch you a little more tightly around here.”Rossingley tugged at the material covering Benedict’s sturdy biceps.“And perhaps here.”He gave Benedict’s middle a squeeze.
The earl’s hands then trod a scandalous path over his thighs.“We’ll also get you measured for two pairs of silk breeches and tighten them up here.”
Benedict stared at the plain plaster ceiling above his head.
“That is if we really intend to draw attention to you, darling.”The earl smiled again, showing all his pointy teeth.“And who doesn’t love attention?”
*
THE MORNING DRAGGEDon in a similar alarming fashion.By the end of it, Benedict had developed a theory that a rakish man’s dissolute, louche appearance had nothing whatsoever to do with excessive indulgence.It was all down to interminable shopping trips.
When they emerged from the tailors, Benedict noted with surprise it was still the same day.More perturbingly, there was no mention of lunch.
“And now for a carriage ride,” declared Rossingley, cheerily taking him by the arm.“We will be seen, we will be convivial, and you shall be an absolute honeypot with the ladies.And we must insist each and every one of them put you on their dance cards for Lady Wardholme’s soirée this evening.Which we will be attending, by the way.”
“We will?”
“We will.Don’t pull that face, darling.She’s a dreamboat once one looks beyond the wart.”Rossingley clicked the reins.“And, between you and me, plenty of gentlemen have.”
After the horror of the tailor’s, the carriage ride was a welcome respite, even if Rossingley did maintain a constant stream of chatter.Mostly about Mr Angel.
Benedict marvelled at how freely he spoke of him.He spoke, too, a little of how they met.And then, because Rossingley was an inveterate gossip, they moved on to the subject of the disgraced baronet, Lord Gartside, and Tommy’s minor role in bringing his downfall.He spoke of Tommy with great familiarity too.
“You were…were lovers.Weren’t you?”Benedict asked daringly.He wasn’t sure what made him think of it, but as soon as he gave it voice, he knew it to be the truth.
Rossingley threw him an extended, sideways glance, his pale gaze assessing.“Yes.On and off, during periods of time when we both needed something and the other supplied it.Such as when I lost my first true love, Charles.And when Tommy had lost…well, everything a few years before that.”
Thanks to me, thought Benedict glumly.
They clip-clopped along.Sorrydidn’t fix broken lives any more than it fixed shattered china.They should invent another word, a nuanced, complicated one, something like those Prussian languages employed.Something that meantsorry I selfishly left you to be arrested and potentially hung, but I’m a coward and not a day doesn’t pass when my actions don’t haunt me.And, incidentally, I still love you, and is there any way you could find it in your heart to love me back?
“But have you guessed we’re business partners too?”Rossingley’s cultured tones dragged Benedict from his musings.
“Really?But he owns blackleg stands and gaming hells, and—” Benedict lowered his voice.“—brothels.”
“Beautifully decorated brothels,” Rossingley corrected.“So much fun to own, much more fun than cotton mills and draughty Scottish castles.”His lips twitched.“Though I have those too.”
“How on earth did you two meet?”As soon as the words left his mouth, Benedict regretted them.How did anyone meet a molly?
