Not a Single Pound
Benjamin barely swallowed the curse that rose to his lips.
"Did you not say that my sister might well become a buyer on the marriage market rather than the merchandise?"
"Ah. That."
"Strangely enough, it rather sounded to my ears like a firsthand account. As though you had at the very least witnessed my sister treating some gentleman as goods for sale in her capacity as purchaser..."
Benjamin forced a smile.
"Mere conjecture on my part, of course?"
Cassian smiled with perfect composure and tipped his head. Then, lowering his voice, he asked,
"What do you think? It seems to me that you, as her brother, would know far more about your sister than I ever could."
"Surely not."
The composure with which he had coolly fielded Edward's provocations had vanished somewhere; Benjamin's face went ashen in an instant.
"Just what impropriety has that girl committed against Your Highness?"
To that desperate question, Cassian merely tilted his head with a languid well now. He considered for a moment before speaking again.
"I'm afraid I cannot quite furnish an answer to that question at this very moment..."
So saying, he slid the small promissory note bearing Benjamin's signature back across the table.
"...What—what is this?"
"I'll throw in the answer to that question along with this IOU."
A faint smile playing at his mouth, he made his proposal.
"So what do you say to joining us tomorrow evening in the royal box at the Royal Opera House?"
"Don't tell me—as my sister's chaperone?"
Cassian merely shrugged, as if to say, Why wouldn't you be?
"Miss Priestley asked me to convey that just as no man and woman proceed to marriage on the strength of a single dance, neither does a scandal subside after only one."
"Wilhelmina, you—"
This time Benjamin truly ground his teeth. It was the only way he could keep the ugly words from spilling out. But Cassian's message was not yet finished.
"Ah, she also added this: should Your Grace absolutely refuse to attend, she would have no choice but to escort her elder sister, the Marchioness of Montrose, instead."
"I'll go."
Benjamin snatched up the promissory note in front of him and answered at once.
"It will be better in every respect if I go."
As he said it, he even gave a full-body shudder, as though shaking off a chill. What a thoroughly entertaining pair of siblings, Cassian thought.
Presently Benjamin cleared his throat and composed his features. Then he attempted one more warning.
"Your Highness is a man of keen intellect, so I trust you already know. Our Wilhelmina is, to me, a most beloved..."
At this juncture he could not help but clench his teeth.
"...sister. But regrettably, by the standards of society, she has neither the inclination nor the talent for a model domestic life. To put it bluntly, she is hardly a suitable object upon which Your Highness should be spending your time at this most critical juncture."
"A fascinating opinion."
"What happened at the ball I can understand—you happened, in that moment, to solve each other's predicaments. But what possible advantage could Your Highness gain from an opera outing this public? I cannot even begin to guess."
It was an appeal that bordered on desperation, but Cassian answered with nothing more than a slanted smile.
"Well now, wouldn't that rather go hand in hand with the question you asked earlier—what price Miss Priestley paid in purchasing this particular piece of merchandise?"
"Damn it."
At last the curse Benjamin had been holding back burst from his lips. Interestingly, his expression and tone now bore a striking resemblance to Wilhelmina's.
"Don't worry yourself too much. I did promise you one thing quite clearly, did I not? The answer to that will most certainly be paid in the near future—provided Your Grace joins us at the opera house tomorrow."
Further interrogation was pointless. Benjamin, as if resigning himself, straightened his rolled-up shirtsleeves and nodded.
"Very well. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say I have no other choice left to me, but in any case."
Pulling on the coat he had set aside, he spoke in a tone of utter surrender.
"We'll see each other tomorrow, then. Will that suffice?"
A picturesque smile spread across Cassian's lips.
"It will prove an excellent choice."
Benjamin looked at him for a moment with the expression of a man who had a great deal he wished to say in reply, but presently, as if giving up, he left with only a brief farewell.
In truth, the sequence of plans originally conceived by Edward Windstor, Duke of Kingsley, had been of a most lucid and elegant variety—and, above all, of a kind whose success had seemed exceedingly probable. If Benjamin Priestley were truly a man who valued honor, he ought to have placed his troublesome sister under house arrest the very day that disgracefully vulgar scandal was scattered across all of Winster—a scandal so mortifying one could scarcely lift one's head. And by now he ought to have been tearing frantically across the length and breadth of the city, wearing the most wretched and exhausted face in the world, in search of some blind fool who would take the girl off his hands as quickly as possible.
But events had not unfolded as anticipated. Wilhelmina Priestley, that impertinent young lady, had appeared at Earl Wilbright's ball in the very thick of the scandal, as bold as you please. And as if that were not enough, she had even danced—and quite conspicuously at that.
Under ordinary circumstances, whether Wilhelmina danced or not would have been none of Edward's concern. Had her partner not been Cassian Windstor, that is.
Just what is Duke Priestley thinking? Has he not the slightest intention of keeping his household in order?
No—perhaps there had been another purpose from the very beginning. What were the odds that a man and a woman who had never so much as laid eyes on each other would, the instant their gazes met at a ball, instantly recognize each other as the perfect solution to one another's predicament? The claptrap about love at first sight would have been more plausible.
Edward thought it over. No matter how he turned it, the only place suspicion could reasonably land was Duke Priestley himself. He had never given the impression of being a particularly calculating man, but if not him, then who else could have served as the connecting link between his sister and that damned Cassian Windstor?
Edward gazed with cold eyes at the royal box on the second floor opposite. In that most lavishly appointed balcony sat the two who now commanded every gaze in Winster—Cassian and Wilhelmina, seated side by side for all the world to see. And behind them, half-hidden by a curtain, Benjamin Priestley was present as chaperone.
Edward muttered an unseemly curse through his teeth. There was no phrase more apt to describe the situation than having cooked a feast only to feed it to a dog. Naturally it burned him beyond words, but reality had to be acknowledged with cold clarity. He had left himself some room for maneuver with a show of bravado at the billiard hall, but at present Edward held not a single card worth playing against Cassian. His opponent was an honored admiral of the Royal Navy, decorated for his service, and a member of the royal family famous besides for his wealth. It was a brutally unfavorable set of conditions under which no bachelor in Brighton could hope to prevail.
And right here, there was a woman making an offer that could not be refused to that invincible bachelor who had left someone else with such a bitter taste in his mouth.
No—it was already less a proposal than a unilateral decree.
"Remarkable."
Cassian murmured it softly, his chin resting on his hand as he faced the stage.
"Such a bold declaration, with every gossip in Winster holding their breath and watching us..."
The tone was theatrical, but the content was a dreadful fact without a shred of exaggeration. It was no overstatement to say that nearly every opera glass in the theater was trained on this box rather than the stage. The two principals of the scandal had appeared in public, and quite affectionately at that; it was little wonder the gossips' eyes were rolling back in their heads.
Thinking that at this rate one could hardly tell where the stage was supposed to be, Wilhelmina gave a conspicuous little snort of laughter.
"To be so astonished—you do have rather a charming side, I see."
"A charming side?"
Cassian raised an eyebrow in protest, but Wilhelmina merely fanned herself with elegant languor, dismissing his immediate objection out of hand.