It was Mrs. Peabody's blasted gossip rag. Everyone read it. He would be lying if he said this was his first offense, the chit clearly had it out for him. With an exaggerated sigh, he read the words:
This should come as no shock to the rest of you. This author, however, was utterly appalled. To think! The Devil Duke ruining an innocent, and at the holiday's first ball! Shamefully, I was beginning to think rumors of this dark duke's demeanor were merely exaggerated. Now I believe we can all see firsthand what type of man he is.
For a man who not only ruins a woman in front of his own flesh and blood, but has the audacity to capture her and enclose her within the confines of his carriage sans chaperone, can only be one thing. A devil in disguise. This author only hopes that the matriarch of that particular family will do something before the devil does more damage. La, I have it on good authority that it would take the fires of hell licking at his heels before the duke would say yes to an engagement. In case you were keeping track, dear readers, this brings a grand total of ten ruined debutantes over the course of three years. This author shudders to think of the disgrace heaped on both families. Well, it is positively not done! If he is given more invitations for the holidays, this author may eat her quill!
—Mrs. Peabody's Society Papers
Benedict laughed, amused that the lady would accuse him so hotly of something that was truly not even his fault.
She had accosted him.
She had fallen on him.
She had leaned in and kissed him.
Fine, so the last part was slightly exaggerated, but still, she was just as guilty. No woman should have such soft lips.
"What will you do?" Agatha asked, arms crossed.
By the look in her eyes he knew he had one of two choices. Laugh it off and kick her out of his home with a hearty farewell or make her privy to his true intentions. After all, he did have some pride to salvage. To think, a woman denying him… and a spinster no less!
"I'm so pleased you've asked, and to think I was just readying myself to come over to your house and tell you of my plans."
Agatha rolled her eyes. "Which is why you were still sleeping when I knocked on the door."
"I was merely meditating on the sweet words I would utter to my beloved."
It was Percy's turn to snort, and Agatha coughed behind her hand.
"Besides," Benedict added with a stretch, "to say what happened against my door was a knock would be a terrible injustice. It was more of a bang, or something akin to a cannon exploding in my bedchamber. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I have a call to make."
With determination, he offered a smile.
He wasn't sure if it was the smile or the speech, but his aunt promptly fainted.
Three hours later, after an ungodly amount of smelling salts, tea, and instances when he saw his aunt's ankles, she was packed into a carriage and sent home.
"Do you think she was feigning illness?" Baldwyn said beside him. Apparently Benedict hadn't been the only one to be roused from his sleep in the early morning. In fact, Baldwyn had smartly chosen to break his fast at Benedict's home while Agatha stormed into Benedict's rooms to scold him.
Baldwyn had it easy, however. He simply needed to speak to the girl's father and all would be done.
Benedict had to fight.
But he was used to winning.
And how difficult could it be to win a spinster's heart?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Try Again
Katherine pleaded with her parents to allow her to return to the country. Instead, it seemed the more she begged, the more resolute they were in their decision.
Distressed, she had taken to her rooms.
A knock sounded at her door.
Please let it be a thief coming to steal her away or perhaps knock her senseless? And then she could wake up confused as to how she had become ruined the night before.
She wanted to forget any of it had happened.
It was too mortifying.
Too horrible.
Everything, except the stolen kisses.
But they didn't count. Everyone knew kisses only counted when they were given in earnest, and if Benedict was earnestly kissing her, well, the whole idea would be ludicrous.
He was merely competitive and a seducer of innocents and truly the worst sort of man. Well, he had been successful in ruining her, and now the only course of action was to go about a betrothal and wait for him to inevitably end things. Then she could go back to the country and die alone.
Splendid.
Not exactly how she had imagined her life would turn out.
Another knock came, this one a bit more insistent.
"Enter," she said, thoroughly disgusted with herself for entertaining dreams of the rogue's kisses.
"He's here," said her maid Nancy in a tiny voice.
Katherine picked a feather off of her pillow and huffed. "Who?"
"You told me not to utter his name," whispered Nancy.
Shivering, Katherine sat up. "You mean he's here?"
"The very one."
"Well, who let him in?" she all but screamed.
"Your mother. Seems she was overwrought after the scandal sheets were delivered. Allow me to speak frankly?"
"Always."
"It is worse than you thought upon your return last night, my lady."