Page 10 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
Benedict nodded. He decided, on impulse, to tell his friend about the young lady. He could not get her out of his mind. “I met a rather interesting young lady,” he began, casting his eye around the room once again to see if he could see her.
“An interesting young lady, you say?” Cecil said, looking at him with interest. “And what was the young lady’s name?”
“Well,” Benedict said, a little reluctantly. “The truth of the matter is that we were far too busy discussing Shakespeare to exchange such pleasantries, but now I find myself overcome with curiosity as to her true identity.”
“Discussing Shakespeare at a ball? Well I never.” Cecil chuckled.
Benedict was about to correct him and tell him that they had been in the garden, but he thought better of it; he knew that the rules of society meant that there had been many a scandal stemming from much less, and he was not quite prepared to endanger the young lady’s reputation, or his own, for that matter.
“Well, perhaps if you can see her, then I can tell you who she is,” Cecil went on, following Benedict’s gaze as he looked around the room.
Benedict spotted her at last, on the other side of the room, chatting with another young lady who had bright red hair. They were accompanied by a rather forbidding-looking older woman with a steely look on her face, who looked rather familiar to him.
“There, that is her, over there by the refreshment table.”
Cecil looked over. “Oh,” he said softly.
Benedict turned to him in surprise. “What do you mean, oh?”
“I think that you will not be pleased, when you find out who your mysterious young lady is.”
Benedict felt a surge of irritation at his friend’s pontification. “Spit it out, man! Who is she?”
“Her name is Miss Alice Dunberry. She is the daughter of the Baron of Danneville, your sworn enemy.”
Chapter 5
Benedict swallowed before answering, but still felt a lump forming in his throat at the words his friend had just uttered.
“The daughter of the baron?” He could hardly believe his ears. The most interesting young lady he had met in months, nay, years, and she was the daughter of the man against whom he had sworn to claim his revenge. But then a thought occurred to him like a lightning bolt. “So that means that the baron is here, then?”
Cecil shook his head. “The Earl of Riversdale told me that he has been sick for many weeks now, and confined to his bed chamber. He is not attending any social events at the moment. I believe the young lady is being chaperoned by her stepmother this evening.”
Benedict let out a groan. If the baron was not there, then the first part of his plan would be delayed. He felt convinced that he would have to set eyes on the man, to trigger his memories of what had really happened all those years ago, and to begin to work out what form his revenge should take.
But if the man was stuck in his bed, then what was he going to do? His disappointment in that moment was almost overwhelming. He had come so close, and now he could do nothing.
But then another thought popped into his mind. Perhaps his revenge could take a different form.
“Cecil, do you know the lady well enough to perform introductions?” he asked his friend, glancing over to where Miss Dunberry was standing with her companions.
“Indeed, I believe so,” Cecil replied. “I have met her father, several years ago. It would be quite proper for me to introduce you, should you wish to get to know her better.” Cecil looked at Benedict shrewdly. “Unless you have some other plan up your sleeve, Benedict? I am not sure you should involve the lady in these matters…”
Benedict shook his head quickly. “Of course not. I would like to meet her properly, that is all.” He paused for a moment. “The manner of our meeting just now was rather—um, how shall I put this. Rather unique. So perhaps we won’t mention it when we approach them?”
Cecil laughed. “You intrigue me, Benedict, but I shall ask no questions. I can see from the look in your eyes that you do not wish to tell me anything further, so I will speak no more. Come, then. Let us go and meet the young lady and her companions.”
***
Alice tried to concentrate on what Dorothea was saying to her, but her mind kept wandering. She could not stop thinking about the gentleman she had met in the garden. She cursed herself inwardly once again for not asking his name, but it had not felt natural to do so in the course of their conversation.
There was no way she could find out who he was without seeming too obvious, too improper. The men had all the power in these situations, and she was helpless to do anything to get to know him better, or even, it seemed, to find out who he was.
“Alice, are you listening to me?” her stepmother barked.
She blinked and looked at her. “Yes, of course,” she replied, although she had not got the slightest idea what Dorothea had been saying.
“Then you will remember exactly who I was saying we must secure an introduction to, then?” Dorothea said, raising an eyebrow scornfully.
