Page 14 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
Benny could feel her heart pounding violently.Caught. She was well and truly caught.“I’m not certain I understand your meaning.”
“What I mean, niece, is that when he arrives for your tête-à-tête later—and it shall only be a tête-à-tête, if it veers into tryst territory there will be the devil to pay!”
“What is the difference?”
Marguerite blinked in surprise and then shook her head. “Heavens, I had forgotten what it was like to be ignorant of such things… what I mean, Benny, is that you may speak with him. I will even allow a stolen kiss or two so long as they occur in the privacy of this home. But no more than that. And when he comes here tonight, you will broach the topic of a special license and tell him that the damage to your sister and cousin will be too great if you wait longer.”
Benny nodded, embarrassed for half a dozen reasons. “How did you know?”
“Good heavens, girl. I am old not deaf… Now, you should have my maid, Rogers, help you with your hair. You’ll want it to be a bit more enticing than your current fashion. Nothing too obvious. Nancy is very good with proper styles that are best shoved under a bonnet, but you need something… different. Go to my chamber and I will send her to you there. The last thing we need is for the other unmarried young women in this house to realize I’m aiding you in your scandalous behavior.”
Over an hour later, Benny was staring at her reflection in the mirror of her aunt’s dressing table, and couldn’t quite fathom what she was seeing. Rogers, she knew, had a somewhat scandalous past. She’d been a hairdresser and wigmaker for a theater company. Her experience certainly showed. She’d managed to take Benny’s lank locks and transform them into something soft, feminine and quite lovely. She’d taken a pair of scissors to it, as well. Cutting bits of it here and there and coaxing irritating waves that defied containment into actual curls.
“Rogers, you are a miracle worker,” Marguerite said, stepping into the room. “I should set you to work on all the girls before their next outing. Smarten them up a bit. New gowns, as well, I think. We’ll go to Madame Dechesne tomorrow and see to it.”
Rogers murmured her thanks, bobbed a curtsy and then quickly fled the room. Marguerite noted the time on the clock. “Eleven thirty. You should go to the library and wait for your… meeting. Do not forget what I said, Benedicta. Your sister’s and cousin’s chances now rest on your shoulders.”
Well, that wasn’t ominous or distressing in the least, Benny thought, somewhat woefully. “I am sorry, Aunt Marguerite. I truly am.”
Marguerite took both her hands. “Look at me, Benedicta.”
Reluctantly, Benny looked up and met her aunt’s gaze.
“We all make choices sometimes that are unwise. Sometimes it all works out well enough and other times there are… consequences. There were consequences this time. That is all. Right now, our focus has to be on moving forward in the best way to spare any further negative impacts of this… indiscretion. As for all of this,” Marguerite gestured to Benny’s hair. “Men are more inclined to be agreeable to beautiful women. And making the most of your beauty to increase their agreeability is one of the few weapons women have in their arsenal.”
“And I want to convince him that we should be married by special license,” Benny stated. She could hear the skepticism in her own voice.
“If I thought he would not be a good husband for you, I would not force you to do this, regardless of the scandal. But he’s a good man. An honorable gentlemen of good fortune, good family and excellent reputation.”
“But we don’t love one another. We hardly know one another,” Benny protested.
“I hardly knew my husband when we wed. It was a different time then, of course. The notion of marrying for love was all but unheard of. Marriages were arranged and, if one were fortunate, there would be some degree of affection that developed in a marriage… but I grew to love my Albert and he grew to love me,” Marguerite confessed. “So keep your mind—and your heart—open to the possibilities. Now, you should be downstairs in the library waiting for him. After all, if he’s forced to break in and one of the staff calls for the watch, that would be more scandal than this house could recover from.”
* * *
Payne climbed over the balustrade of Lady Marguerite’s terrace and approached one of the large floor to ceiling windows that, during the day, would bathe the room in light. It was unlocked and he could see the dim glow of a lamp from inside. Raising the sash, he slipped inside and glanced around. He found her immediately.
Benny was standing near one of the bookshelves on the far side of the room, her fingers absently tracing the embossed leather on the spines of the books. “You are very punctual,” she said.
“I would hate to be late for an assignation that I suggested,” he replied smoothly. “And there’s a rather important matter that we should discuss.”
“And that is?” She didn’t bother to turn, but kept looking at the book shelf and the tomes before her.
“I do not think we can afford to go about this marriage business in the traditional way. While I hadn’t planned to rush you, after the mood witnessed in the park this morning and the degree of censure directed at your aunt, your sister and your cousin—we should take a more expedient approach… Would you be willing to marry by special license?”
The book she had plucked from the shelf dropped from her fingers and landed with a thud on the carpet. Immediately, Payne closed the distance between them and crouched down to retrieve it. A glance at the spine showed it to be a collection of Byron’s works.
“Are you a devotee of the late poet?”
“Not especially. I was only browsing idly while I waited for you,” she said, accepting the proffered book from him and returning it to the shelf.
“What do you think of my suggestion, Benny?” he pressed her.
“Oh… I… well, I had intended to speak with you about that. Aunt Marguerite had suggested the very same thing. She is worried that the consequences of our indiscretion could prevent Cordelia and Charity from being invited to any events for the remainder of the season—thus ruining their chances of finding husbands.”
“It does not overly tax the mind to imagine that she is correct in her assumptions. Shall I speak to the archbishop then?”
“We have no other choice.” Benny’s agreement was delivered with resolve but no enthusiasm.
