“You do seem rather taken by her,” Lady Langham noted, studying Benedict as if she did not believe it. “A far cry from the last time I saw you.”

“That was weeks ago now, and as I said, a lot has changed.”

“Such as?”

Benedict held his smile, even if it was becoming harder and harder to do. “I got to know your daughter, is what.” He kissed the back of Selina’s hand. “Surely, as her mother, you can understand that beneath the…” He chuckled. “Prickly exterior, there is a rose as beautiful and sweet as any flower known to mankind.”

The twins melted at his words, their eyes seeming to water as they looked upon their sister with such jealousy that he wondered if perhaps he had gone too far in his praise.

The youngest sister snorted but smiled when she met Selina’s eyes, apparently willing to believe that her eldest sister was indeed happy.

But the Dowager Viscountess… she did not react. Another sip of wine. A stern gaze. That sense that she could see through the saccharine words.

“That is wonderful to hear,” she said eventually. “Truly, I could not be happier about it. And the two of you, of course.”

“As we could not be happier,” Benedict added quickly. Still holding Selina’s hand, he gave it another kiss.

He caught her looking at him, and while he had expected a raised eyebrow, a warning to ease off a little because he was spreading the lies far too thickly to be believed, her cheeks became rather flushed, as if she was embarrassed. A sly smile next, and she looked away sheepishly.

It was such a saccharine performance that anyone watching the two would have no doubt that they were desperately in love. Even Benedict was a little shocked by it all.

As good of an actor as I am, Selina is leaving me for dead.

The afternoon and evening had gone pleasantly enough, so far.

They had tea in the garden while Lady Langham told them what they had missed in London since they had left—gossip was not something that Benedict was particularly interested in, but he listened attentively, nonetheless.

Benedict had then left them alone for a few hours so that they might have a chance to catch up properly… and so that he had a chance to take a break because while the sisters were nice, they were also younger and somewhat too loud for his tastes. And that wasn’t to mention the way he still felt about the Dowager Viscountess.

And then he had joined them all for supper, making a big show of kissing Selina on the head and telling her how beautiful she was. Not that he needed to fake that last past.

“I am so jealous that you are going to attend the Mayfield Ball,” Diana complained. “Mother says that I am too young to attend.”

“As you are,” the Dowager Viscountess stated rightly.

“We shall be attending,” Louisa said with a proud smirk.

“We cannot wait,” Isabella added with a cocky smile aimed at her younger sister.

“It is only two years until you will be able to,” Selina assured Diana, who was now pouting. “And trust me, once you do, you will see that there is nothing exciting about it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Diana whined. “You forget what it is like to be told what you can and cannot do.”

“Oh… I do not know about that.” Selina smirked and glanced quickly at Benedict.

Today had been even easier than Benedict had imagined.

He had worried that being thrust into a situation such as this would bring out the worst in him. Not very good around people, with a short fuse and unable to stomach trivial palaver at the best of times, there had always been a chance that his temper would flare and he would say some not-very-nice things without thinking.

Selina, however, was there to keep him in check.

What was more, he found that while he was at her side, he did not want to show that side of himself. This entire thing was supposed to be an act, a performance in many ways. But as the evening wore on, as he looked at his wife and saw the way she smiled whenever he spoke kindly about her, it was no longer an act, but all too real.

“I was surprised to hear that you were attending,” Lady Langham began. She sat in the middle of the table, but she commanded their attention as if she were at its head. “In truth, many were.”

Benedict chuckled. “I assume I am to blame for that. I am not known for my social graces.”

“It is a good thing that you are,” she continued. “The truth is, Selina, your uncle Leopold has become somewhat… burdensome of late, and it will do to remind him that his niece is a duchess now and we are not to be treated so callously.”