“Both of us,” Benedict repeated flatly. “Oh.”
“And shecertainlyrecommended you both to my generosity,” Elinor finished sweepingly. “So I was only too glad to offer you a bit of help with your courtship this morning. And of course, after Miss Tregarth’s description of Mr. Aubrey, I knew that he was the man to go to with my questions about my dragon.”
“Yes,” Benedict said. “Yes, I can see that. So…she didn’t say anything about me in particular, then?”
Hehadnoticed. He must have. Elinor felt humiliation seize every inch of her spine. She swallowed hard and kept her face a blank.
“Should she have?”
“No,” Benedict said quietly. “No, of course not. Why should she? We had only just met that day.”
“Quite.” Elinor could have choked on the embarrassment that filled her. She searched desperately for a different topic as escape. “But speaking of people who have heard of you…I thought you’d kept your financial issues secret. Hadn’t you? I only knew because Mr. Aubrey spoke of them in the carriage this morning, but—”
“But Gavin Armitage seems to know all of the details.” Benedict’s voice hardened. “I could have sworn no one outside the family ever knew that Father had been caught in that confounded fraud of an investment scheme. How the secret slipped out—and tohim, of all people—”
“He only spoke of it as a rumour,” Elinor said. “He cannot know it as a certainty.”
“But if he passes that rumour on to Sir John…”
“We’ll have to see that he doesn’t.” Elinor stood up and straightened her skirts with two vigorous shakes. “I’ll speak to his sister and make certain she knows that I think the rumour false. He won’t want to make a fool of himself by libeling you, after that. Then all you’ll have to do is persuade Penelope of your cause.”
“Yes,” said Benedict. “Of course. I must.”
Elinor gave him a quick, bright smile. “Of course,” she said. “Miss Tregarth told me all about it. You have a five-year-old niece to look after, don’t you? And—”
“Three younger brothers,” Benedict said. “Yes. Colin and Randall and Julian. Julian is only eight. Did she mention that? Not to mention all the workers on the estate. They came to me in a group last month, when they realized how matters stood. I promised them—all of them—that I would make things right again.”
“And so you shall. I am sure of it.” Elinor nodded firmly and scooped Sir Jessamyn off his boulder. “Now if you will excuse us…” She set off before he could answer.
“Mrs. De Lacey?” Benedict’s voice reached her just before she could reach the door in the wall.
Reluctantly, she turned back. “Yes?”
“When you spoke to Miss Tregarth…” He paused. When he continued, his voice sounded strained. “When she spoke of my plans to marry her cousin,” he said, “what exactly did she say?”
Oh, God. He really did suspect her feelings.
“She was delighted,” Elinor said, and lifted her chin. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
She turned and swept out of the garden.
Chapter 18
When Elinor stepped into the bedroom, the first thing she saw was the pile of newspapers that lay on her bed.
Thank goodness. She’d asked Carter earlier to arrange their collection, and now she was even more grateful than she’d expected to be. If the illusion was already beginning to show its seams, she had no time to lose. She needed to arrange a swift and permanent escape from Hathergill Hall, the very moment that Penelope’s début ball came to an end.
Benedict might have blamed his eyesight once, but twice would strain anyone’s credulity. And if the next person to see through the illusion was Sir John or Penelope…
She winced and sank down onto the bed cross-legged, spreading the papers all around her.
They were no longer clean and freshly-ironed, as Sir John had already read them over breakfast, but they were still packed with closely-lined text. She pored through them as Sir Jessamyn wandered off to fall asleep on a non-crinkly area of the bed. TheSpectatorhad been printed in London only two days ago, and it was full of Society gossip that she skimmed past as she hunted for advertisements.
Two titled gentlemen (referred to coyly by the writer as Lord F— and Sir G— H—) had participated in a drunken carriage race that left destruction to the tune of some £45 in their wake…the Prince Regent had ordered the commission of a new statue for his Brighton Pavilion, modeled on his favorite dragon…The celebrated Mrs D—L— was planning…
Wait.Elinor flipped back to that notice.
The celebrated Mrs. D—L— —or in other words, Mrs. De Lacey—had been planning to host a fabulous Venetian breakfast yesterday morning. According to theSpectator’s journalist, it would be attended by several fashionable figures and decorated with a South American theme. TheSpectatorconfidently expected it to be one of the great events of the year.
