Page 3 of Making of a Scandal
Hugh frowned. “Where’s Nick?”
“He should have been here an hour ago,” David replied. “Don’t know what the devil is going on with him. He’s been acting so queer lately.”
“Here! I’m here!”
They swiveled to find Nick taking the stairs two at a time. He looked a fright as he bounded onto the landing—hair mussed, cravat askew, his bright green eyes rimmed with dark circles.
“You look like hell,” David drawled.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Hugh muttered.
“I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Nick murmured, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he jerked his ruined cravat loose and fumbled at it with unsteady hands. “You know I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“I know,” Aubrey replied, as magnanimous as always. “It’s all right.”
He seemed to want to ask Nick what the matter was, but there was no time. Benedict gave the groom a little push toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll sort him out, and we’ll be there shortly. I have things well in hand.”
The moment the front door echoed through the house with a resounding slam, Benedict turned on Dominick.
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” he growled. “You’re late and you look like you got dressed in the dark.”
His friend merely stood there in silence as Benedict retied his ruined cravat. He inhaled, searching for the telltale odor of spirits coming off Dominick, but detected none. If the man hadn’t been out all night gambling and drinking, then there was only one reason for his current state.
He was still moping over Miss Calliope Barrington.
“Pull yourself together,” Ben said, his voice a low, grating whisper. “Today is about Aubrey and Lucinda and I won’t have you ruining that.”
“You sound like a proper matron,” Dominick remarked, his voice hollow—as if he didn’t have the heart to put his usual irreverence behind the comment. “I thought you hated weddings.”
“I do,” Benedict retorted, adjusting Nick’s lapels and smoothing the front of his coat. “But it’s Aubrey’s wedding so I’m pushing aside my hatred for the next few hours.”
It was true that he’d avoided weddings for years, as every ceremony inevitably reminded him of the one that had ruined his life. Brides with bouquets walking toward waiting grooms called to mind things he’d rather not remember.
Just now, however, he wasn’t thinking of weddings. He was thinking about the problem that was Dominick and Calliope. What was supposed to have been a simple arrangement in exchange for money had turned into something else entirely, and now the fool thought himself in love.
“I hate weddings, too,” Dominick droned, leaning against the wall once Benedict was satisfied that the cravat was neatly tied. “I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Not that I wanted to until … well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Benedict’s hackles sharply rose, and he fought the urge to shake some sense into his friend. “Nick, don’t.”
Dominick scrubbed a hand over his face and grimaced. “I know … I know …”
“We’ve been over this. You developed an infatuation for your keeper, but she put an end to it. I realize it hurts now, but I promise you, it will pass.”
It had better, for Benedict couldn’t stand for the loss of another courtesan.
He’d begun the agency of The Gentleman Courtesans nearly three years ago, along with his five closest friends. They’d started the venture in an act of desperation, never realizing just how lucrative such a business could be. As it turned out, the men of thetonweren’t the only ones who would pay good coin for the services of a courtesan.
In the past year Benedict had added six new courtesans to their ranks in order to meet the demand. Of course, it seemed he was losing men as fast as he could recruit them.
First Edward, then Hugh, then Aubrey.
And now Dominick … fucking Dominick who’d always been a rake of the worst sort. A man as free with his cock as he was with his smiles, he was the last of the courtesans Benedict would have expected to fall prey to softer emotions.
The door swung open and Lucinda appeared, a bouquet of white roses tied with blue ribbon held in one hand. The redness had faded from her face, and her cheeks and lips were a soft pink, her eyes bright and clear.
“I am ready.”
Benedict offered his arm as Dominick straightened and forced a pitiful attempt at a smile. “Lucinda, you are a vision. Aubrey will be enchanted.”
