Page 9 of Portrait of a Lady
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Please, sit down,” he said, dropping her hand and loping toward the sideboard. “May I offer you something to drink? Tea, perhaps? Or do you wish for something a bit stronger? I have sherry, and—”
“Sherry would be wonderful,” she blurted without thinking.
Yes, something to fortify her courage would be just the thing. He selected sherry from among the decanters and filled a clean glass. Her hand shook so badly, she feared she might not be able to accept the offered drink. Cradling her shaking right hand with one of his, he stilled it, then placed the sherry into it.
“Make yourself comfortable. You can call me Ben.”
First names already? She supposed it was appropriate given that he might become far closer to her than any man ever had. Swallowing, she tried to smile but found her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“Ben,” she repeated, raising the glass to her lips. “Then you should call me Evelyn.”
“It is nice to meet you, Evelyn,” he said while rounding the desk.
After taking a sip of sherry, she made her way to one of the two armchairs facing him. Sinking onto it, she took another sip, her gaze flitting about the room.
“I can see that you are nervous,” he said. “There is no need to be. This is merely an initial interview; an opportunity for me to determine what your needs are.”
Her face grew even hotter at this mention of her ‘needs’. She could hardly think of such things without becoming embarrassed. How did he expect her tospeakthem aloud?
“Madame Hershaw informs me you carried one of our cards. How did you come by it?”
“A friend,” she managed. “Mrs. Morton.”
“Ah, yes, Samantha. Wonderful woman. I suppose she explained to you how it works?”
“Of course. I have recently come into an inheritance left behind by my father. I have more than enough to...cover the cost, as well as any other...expenses.”
“Good. I do not like to make assumptions, Evelyn, so do forgive me for asking, but have you any experience? When it comes to men, that is.”
This called for more sherry. Taking almost all that was left in her glass, she grimaced, but then carried on. She could talk about this, couldn’t she? If she was going to go through with securing a lover, she must learn to speak of these things without succumbing to paralyzing reticence.
“Nothing of substance,” she replied. “A few chaste kisses that lasted no more than a few seconds.”
That was all there could be when Evelyn could barely look a man in the eye without becoming tongue-tied. She was so pitiful, needing topaysomeone to seduce her, because no other man would based on his own desires.
Ben folded his hands on the desk, giving her a reassuring smile. She saw no amusement in his eyes, which came as a relief. Perhaps he didn’t expect her to possess any experience after all.
“That is quite all right,” he said. “Can you tell me what sort of qualities you would like in a lover? If you could think up your ideal man, what would he be like?”
That question took her aback, making her cheeks go warm and bile rise in the back of her throat. She’d almost rather the floor open up and swallow her than be forced to answer such a question.
She hadn’t thought to be asked something like this, but as she forced herself to calm Evelyn supposed it made sense. If she were to get her money’s worth, he would want to know her requirements.
“Well,” she began, staring down into her sherry. “I should like him to be handsome, of course. Charming...kind...gentle…”
She choked out the last word, nerves making her tremble as she thought of surrendering her maidenhead. It was the reason she’d decided to do this, having reached the age of five-and-twenty without ever being kissed properly. She had no desire to die a virgin.
“Romantic,” she added once she had found her voice again. “I should like him to be romantic as well.”
It occurred to her that she’d just named all the qualifications for a husband, without the benefits of a new last name, protection, shelter, children, and love. But, marriage no longer seemed like an inevitability. It didn’t even feel possible anymore. So, why shouldn’t she enjoy all the peripheral things that came along with it, including the pleasures of the bedchamber?
Slouching in his chair, Benedict folded his arms across his chest, studying her with a pensive expression before speaking.
“I have just the fellow. He meets every one of your requirements and is very good with women like yourself.”
“You mean dowdy, untouched spinsters,” she grumbled.
