Page 83 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

“I was speaking with her earlier,” Lady Chesterton mused. “She does seem rather taken with you.”

“You sound surprised.” Benedict chuckled.

“Just an observation,” she responded in a way that made it impossible to tell how exactly she felt. “I heard that the two of you were quite infatuated with one another, and it is nice to see that for once, the rumors are true.”

“You were not at the Mayfield Ball last week?” Lord Burrow asked.

“I was not.”

“Ah, well, if you were, it would not have surprised you.” Lord Burrow nodded proudly, as if there was something to gain from being in the know. “I know young love when I see it, and His Grace’s marriage smacks of it.”

“Which raises the question, Lord Burrow. When will you marry?” Lord Abrams joked. “Perhaps Her Grace can introduce you to one of her sisters.” He nodded across the room, to where the twins stood in the corner, looking a little out of place.

“Perhaps.” Benedict chuckled. “I am sure I can ask my wife to make introductions. Lord Abrams is right, it is high time that you wed.”

“I am afraid that perpetual bachelorhood is my calling,” Lord Burrow declared. “Your brother and I have that in common.”

“Oh, do not be so sure of that.” Benedict pounced on the chance, as he had been doing all evening. “No doubt you heard where my brother has been these past few months.” He looked at each of them, making sure they were listening. “Scouring Europe for a bride worth the Northwick name.”

“Is that so?” Lady Chesterton asked incredulously. “I would not have thought him the type. At least not from what I have heard.”

“This time, the gossip is not worth the tongue that it wags from,” Benedict assured her. “Yes, my brother has a bit of a history where women are concerned, but this last year has changed him—he is now ready to settle down.”

“The reason for his return?” Lord Abrams made sure to ask.

“Exactly. Sadly, there was not much on offer in Europe, but I assured him that once he returned to England, we would find him a bride. So…” Benedict again made sure that they were all listening attentively. “If any of you know of a young lady who might be interested, do not hesitate.”

“How fascinating,” Lord Chesterton murmured. “I admit, I do not know your brother well, but I remember just last year, he told me that he never intended to?—”

“And I am telling you that things have changed,” Benedict cut him off sharply, anger lacing his voice. He also shot him a warning glare.

That, naturally, had the elderly Lord Chesterton’s eyes going wide and his face paling as his mouth opened and closed as if he was struck speechless.

Benedict, sensing that he had gone too far, and reminding himself that he needed to control his temper if he wanted tonight to be a success, acted quickly. “But that is life, is it not?” He chuckled and elbowed Lord Abrams beside him.

“Y-Yes,” Lord Chesterton agreed with a sigh of relief. “And forgive me for questioning you, Your Grace.”

“Not at all. The truth is—and I do not mean to sound too bold—I think that I am to blame. I have been writing to Edmund since he left, singing my wife’s sweet praises the whole while, and I have no doubt that has helped change his mind where wedded bliss is concerned.”

“Of course.”

“And although he returned just yesterday,” Benedict continued merrily, “I feel somewhat bad, rubbing how happy myself and Selina are in his face. Although not too bad!” He laughed and slapped Lord Burrow on the back, which had the others chuckling along like the sheep that they were.

Despite the niceties and the pleasant conversation, Benedict was under no illusion that the people he was speaking with were his friends—or anything close to that, for that matter. Social leeches, was how he thought of them. Here because of his name only and what associating with that name would do for their reputations.

That was the way of it for most of the guests here tonight.

There were over twenty people in the ballroom, most of whom Benedict had no interest in, other than a desire to see them swallow the stories he fed them so that they might be spread about the ton like wildfire. Consumed and taken as fact because that was how Society worked.

As he stood with these four, he cast his gaze further, smiling to see that his guests were mingling merrily as they shared drinks and nibbles. Across the room, he caught the eye of Selina, who was standing with her mother and Lord and Lady Fryer. She was not looking at him, and although it was likely that she hadn’t seen him watching her, it felt purposeful.

Not that I can blame her. If she were to storm over here and slap me across the face, I dare say that I would deserve it.

He was still struggling to reckon with what had occurred between them last night. Her confession was, in every sense, wholly predictable, and the more he thought about it, the less it surprised him. The timing might not have been perfect, but he had sensed it coming for days, and his only regret was that he had not been better prepared.

Even if he had been, however, he still was not certain that things would have gone any differently. Benedict had convinced himself by this point that what they felt for each other was irrelevant. Their marriage was never meant to turn into something more meaningful, and he’d locked himself into that mode of thinking without a chance of changing his mind.

Did he have feelings for Selina? Of course, he did! Did he enjoy hurting her? Of course not! He only wished that he had been more delicate with her because when he thought of that look in her eyes after he had rejected her, it made him sick to his core.

---