or she wants to use the crowded park as a safeguard.”
“She fears you would wring her neck otherwise,” Celeste quipped, setting the blue hat aside and settling the violet one over her dark brown hair. “Not that anyone could blame you if you did.”
Benedict was known for his lethal fists, but he would never use them against a woman. However, the author of The London Gossip tempted him sorely, and at times he couldn’t help but think he would like to make her choke on the pen she used to slander everyone who crossed her path.
“I don’t want you involved in any of this,” he grumbled. “As I’ve said countless times, anyone caught—”
“Associating with you may also be ruined,” she interjected, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I did hear you the first ten times you said it.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“Of course it isn’t. If you think I will allow that shrew to scare me into shunning you, you do not know me at all.”
Benedict sighed. He did know Celeste, and one of the things he admired most about her was the unflinching strength and bravado with which she faced the world. The gossip about her ran rampant, with all of society speculating that she had murdered her husband to earn his fortune. Like Ben, she wasn’t interested in anyone’s approval, least of all acceptance into a world where a friend could become an enemy with nothing more than a whisper in the right ear.
When he had come to her with his proposal that she pose as his mistress, Celeste had laughed in his face. But, when he explained why he needed her to do it, she embraced him and agreed to help him for as long as he required it. He had come to her aid once, and though he insisted she owed him nothing, Celeste asserted that she most certainly did.
“It will cost me nothing to do it,” she had said when he’d made the suggestion three years ago. “Besides, I think it should be quite an amusing lark.”
Now, it would seem his machinations would cost her something. The rumors about her notwithstanding, for Celeste to be tangled up in his eventual ruin would see her ostracized.
No, Benedict would not let it come to that. The London Gossip had dealt a few blows, but nothing they couldn’t recover from. This had not spiraled too far out of his control.
The minutes passed far too slowly, but once Celeste announced it was time to leave, all that changed. It seemed he entered his waiting carriage only to blink and find himself strolling along a footpath with Celeste on his arm. The late afternoon air held a biting chill, and he faintly noticed the smell and taste of coming rain. Nevertheless, Hyde Park was as crowded as could be for this time of year, where those who only journeyed to London for the Season had taken their leave. The dismal gray of the sky fit his mood. He fairly vibrated with unease, eyes darting as he sought out his enemy.
He had never seen her face, of course, but would know her when he saw her. Benedict could picture her as he had last seen her—dressed in black from head to toe, with a veiled hat obscuring her features. He recalled the scent that tickled some buried memory in the back of his mind—one that had him reaching up to finger the scar on his right temple. The thin line was only visible when his hair was combed back and someone stood close enough to notice. Many had tried to draw him into conversation about the injury, but it was his habit to spin some outlandish story about where it had come from.
“Did she specify where you were to meet her?” Celeste asked, interrupting his convoluted thoughts.
“She only mentioned the Serpentine, but if I haven’t missed my guess, she will want to be visible to as many people as possible. From here, anyone walking the footpaths or riding Rotten Row will be able to see us. She’s close.”
The plumes in Celeste’s hat brushed his jaw as she craned her neck to look around, her grip on him tightening. “There?”
He followed her gaze to where a woman stood near the edge of the Serpentine. Awareness prickled the back of his neck as he spotted the lonely figure dressed in somber gray instead of black. But, everything else about the London Gossip was the same, right down to a wide-brimmed hat with a veil. Benedict