Page 10 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
His mother did not reply. She was too busy having a fit of carefully orchestrated hysterics. No doubt they would stop the moment he walked out of her chambers. To that end, he made good his escape.
* * *
Despite her exhaustion the night before, she had not slept a wink. That fateful moment on the Dark Walk, when he’d told her he wanted to kiss her—it had replayed in her mind over and over again. And not a single time, even in retrospect, could she truly regret having said that she wanted to be kissed. Everything, from the moment he’d first grabbed her and pulled her into the bushes, up to the moment they’d been discovered had been rather marvelous. Oh, the way it had come about was certainly not pleasant. Nor had been everything that came after that kiss. But those moments between… those had been lovely.
“Arrogant, beastly man,” Benny murmured under her breath.
“What was that?” Lady Marguerite asked.
“I need a new fan,” Benny lied. “I just remembered that I had broken one of mine and I do not think it can be repaired.”
Marguerite’s lips pursed. “I think that is a task for another day, niece. Lord Davenport will arrive here at noon. He will be seen approaching this house by one and all. He will likely have flowers or some other such nonsense, becausehe,at least, understands the necessity of bowing to social convention.”
Benny swallowed and then immediately lowered her gaze, nodding slightly. She had rather made a mess of things. A mess that her aunt would now be required to clean up. And whatever was required of her, she would do, because otherwise Cordelia and Charity would suffer for it.
“At any rate, after his call, we shall—all of us, including the Baron—promenade in the park. I will brook no argument on the matter,” Marguerite stated.
A chorus of agreements came from the breakfast table.
“Benedicta?”
“Certainly, Aunt. I will do as you say.”
“If that were a foregone conclusion, we would not be in our current situation!” Marguerite snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Benny murmured softly. “I never meant to—I never meant of any it. I only wanted to do something adventuress, something fun. I had no idea that Vauxhall would be… well, what it was.”
Marguerite stared at her for a moment and then simply put her plate back down on the sideboard, breakfast forgotten. She wrapped her arms around Benny in a warm hug. “I should not snap so. What’s done is done. It was a lapse in judgement, and, despite the scandal, it is not the end of the world. Things could be so much worse. The Baron Davenport is a good man. An honorable one. And he is taking all the necessary measures to protect you from the consequences of that lapse… You must remember that. I know you are, of all my nieces, the one who is the most fiercely independent. Try to see him as an ally, dear, and not your enemy.”
Benny nodded. “I will. And I am sorry. I know this complicates everything for you… and for Delia and Charity.”
“It will all be fine. A bit uncomfortable for a few weeks, to be sure,” Marguerite observed wryly. “But scandal, especially this early in the season, tends to have a very short lifespan.”
Benny filled her plate and then seated herself at the table. It was just after eleven. He would arrive within the hour. And the food on the plate before her lost all appeal. The very idea of eating anything made her feel quite ill.
“Tea,” Marguerite said. “Drink your tea, dear. It will help you relax.”
Was she so transparent, Benny wondered? A glance at the other worried faces around the breakfast table revealed that she, in fact, was that transparent. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she picked up her teacup. “It’s fine. Everything is fine. Completely, perfectly fine.”If my life was a comedy on the stage.
5
Payne stepped down from his barouche. He had a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a little leather box in his pocket containing a more suitable betrothal ring than the one he’d placed on Miss Wylde’s finger the night before. Given the amount of scandal their engagement would generate, the ring should be suitably ostentatious. To that end, he’d chosen a floral setting—a gold band with a large center stone set into silver, surrounded by smaller diamonds. It was from the family collection, one that his mother had never favored but that his late grandmother had never been seen without. Several family portraits bore witness to its popularity amongst Davenport brides.
If the ring suited Miss Wylde, they’d have it sized to fit her slim, delicate hand if necessary. He had slipped the ring on his pinky and it had almost fit, which was a good indication that it would not be overly large on her. If it did not suit, they’d choose something together. Though that would likely be disastrous as they could barely speak to one another without arguing.
Climbing the steps to Lady Marguerite’s home, he lifted the brass knocker and let it drop, striking the plate underneath with a metallic thunk. Immediately, the door was opened and the butler ushered him inside.
“If you will wait here, my lord, I will inform the ladies that you have arrived.”
Removing his hat, he placed it on the table and waited. Moments later, the butler returned and ushered him toward the formal drawing room. There, Lady Marguerite, Miss Wylde and two other young ladies were seated at their various activities. One was seated on the bench at the pianoforte, her fingers poised above the keys. The second was embroidering before the window. Lady Marguerite was perusing the morning’s scandal sheets, something he had not yet had the nerve to look at. Beside her, Miss Benedicta Wylde had a pair of utterly charming spectacles perched on the end of her nose and a book open on her lap.
She looked at him, her face etched with surprise. And then he realized that the spectacles were not simply for reading. He’d seen her last night, but she had not truly seen him.
“Good morning, Lady Marguerite. Miss Wylde… I’m afraid I will require an introduction to your companions.”
Marguerite rose. “Lord Payne Asher, Baron Davenport, meet all three of my nieces. Miss Benedicta Wylde, whom you encountered last evening, and her sister Miss Cordelia Wylde and their cousin, Miss Charity Wylde. Her sister, Felicity, recently married Viscount Randford and they are still in the country, but expected to come to town soon. The two of you are acquainted, are you not?”
“Indeed we are, Lady Marguerite,” he turned to acknowledge the other young ladies. “Miss Cordelia and Miss Charity, it is lovely to make your acquaintance. And Miss Benedicta, I am very pleased to see you again.”
