Chapter 2. The French Heiress

The next evening, before dinner, Benedict returned to the cabaret, which, as he noticed only now, was called The Shiny Clam. The cabaret had just opened and was almost empty, its workers preparing for the night"s entertainment. The barman, who was polishing the counter, recognized Benedict from the night before and acknowledged him with a nod; the waiters, who were setting the tables, looked at him with curiosity. He must have looked peculiar in his formal attire at a place like that.

"I know you," said someone in a low and raspy voice behind him.

Benedict turned around. There stood a small, plump woman dressed in a ruffled pink evening gown embroidered with beads and feathers. She looked up at him from under her long eyelashes, but her expression wasn't friendly.

"You are the rich boy who insulted Victor."

"I beg your pardon?" Benedict said, taken off guard.

"You were here the other night," she said. "I saw you. Victor called you all sorts of names when we were back in the dressing room."

"Yes," said Benedict, realizing that Victor must be Vivienne's real name. "I mean, that was me." He tried not to sound stupid.

"He was not exaggerating then," said the woman.

"I beg your pardon?" Benedict repeated, feeling his face flush.

"Never mind," the woman snorted. "So what are you doing here?" Her voice was almost hostile. "From what I've heard, you don't particularly like our kind."

"I…" Benedict mumbled, now completely confused. "I don't…I want to speak to him."

"You don't want to speak to him?" the woman mocked. "Then farewell, Fancy Fop."

"I do," Benedict said quickly. For some reason, this short and irritable woman made him uncomfortable.

She looked at him suspiciously.

"What affairs do you have with him?"

"I just want to talk."

"What for?"

"To apologize."

She scrutinized him for a few more seconds. Then quickly glanced at the group of waiters who were listening in on the conversation, as though checking with them, before turning back to Benedict.

"Fine. But no funny business, capeesh? I know guys like you, Fancy Fop. First, you do dumb things, then you regret them and try to take it out on us." She snorted. "Follow me."

She led him backstage and into a long and narrow corridor with dressing rooms on both sides.

The woman knocked on one of the doors, "Vic, you have a guest."

To Benedict"s surprise, a young man appeared on the doorstep. He was only partially dressed, wearing just black trousers. Slim but muscular, he bore a striking resemblance with Vivienne: the same piercing dark eyes and a beauty spot above the lips. However, his hair was almost black, much darker than Benedict"s. It was astonishing to imagine that this young man could so convincingly transform into a woman.

"Hello," Benedict said awkwardly, the memory of their last encounter still hanging fresh between them.

"What do you want?" Victor said bluntly, crossing his arms. He didn"t seem at all pleased to see Benedict.

"May I speak with you?" Benedict asked. They were standing rather close in the narrow hallway.

"Not if you"re planning to throw accusations at me again."

"I'm not."

"Fine. Shoot."

Benedict looked around and saw the woman in the pink dress still standing in the hallway, watching them intently. Victor caught his gaze.

"Can we talk alone?" Benedict asked.

"All right." Victor sighed. "You have five minutes."

He stepped back into the dressing room, and Benedict followed him inside. The room was tiny and claustrophobic, choked up with heaps of clothes and piles of shoes. Victor sat down in front of a vanity cluttered with makeup brushes and boxes of all shapes and sizes. On the small table beside the vanity, Benedict noticed a strange, skin-colored piece of rubber that resembled a female chest.

Benedict shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"So?" Victor said.

"I want to take you up on that offer," Benedict blurted out and paused, feeling slightly silly. "You know—"

"The part where I pretend to be your lover to help you secure the inheritance?" Victor asked with a shade of surprise and mockery in his voice. "And why should I help you after the way you treated me the other night?"

"I apologize," said Benedict. "I was inebriated. Quite excessively, in fact." That was a lie. "And I haven't previously interacted with…individuals like you."

"Drag queens, you mean?" Victor quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"You can say it out loud, it's not offensive. Drag queens."

"Drag queens," Benedict echoed, not entirely at ease.

"Why don't you simply follow your friend's advice and find a regular girl to wed? Isn"t that expected of someone in your position anyway?"

It took Benedict a few seconds to respond.

"I don't want to marry." It was the first time he said it out loud.

Victor studied him as if trying to discern some hidden truth.

"I was under the impression that all men of your rank aspire to marry and start producing heirs," he said.

"Well, not me." Benedict shrugged. The truth was a bit more complicated, but he wasn"t about to go into details. "At least not now."

"Why not?" Victor asked with curiosity.

Benedict shrugged again and gave him the usual response he had for such questions: "I guess I haven't met the right woman yet."

Victor continued to scrutinize him. Then said, "If I agree, you will pay me enough to buy out this cabaret."

Benedict didn't hesitate. "As you wish."

"And if you change your mind along the way, I still get the money."

"Of course."

Victor's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And we should come up with a convincing story."

"I've already told my family about you," Benedict admitted reluctantly.

Victor gave him a bewildered look. "So you just assumed I would agree?"

Benedict felt his face getting hot.

"No, I…" He never felt this flustered with anyone, but Victor's calm and laid-back manner baffled him. "I thought that if you refused, I would hire someone else."

For a few seconds, they just looked at each other. Benedict was the one to break the silence. "I used your name when I mentioned you," he said. "Vivienne LaFleur. I told them you're French."

Victor chuckled.

"You know that's not my real name, right?"

"Your stage name, then."

"Aren't you worried that some of your folks might recognize me?"

"No offense, but I'm sure they don't frequent places like this."

"You do," Victor said pointedly. "How did you tell them we met?"

"How do you know they asked?"

"Upper-class people. You"re obsessed with status and wealth, so it must be the first thing they wanted to know."

"I told them we met through Charlie Bellinger, my friend I was with the other night. But I didn't tell them anything else."

Victor nodded. Then, thoughtfully bit his bottom lip. "Let's say I am the daughter of a French entrepreneur, Eugene LaFleur. He owns the largest tobacco factory in France and is incredibly rich. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father raised me in France. I don't have an accent because we used to have a country house in England, where I spent most of my summers. I was introduced to Bellinger by a mutual friend many years ago. And you and I met at a ball at Bellinger's house."

"Charlie Bellinger doesn"t host balls," Benedict said when Victor finished. "And couldn"t you think of something less dramatic? It sounds like a backstory of some book villain."

"It might be." The corners of Victor's mouth twitched upward. "But I'm sticking to the story. We can say we met at a casual gathering. You and I have known each other for a month. I came to England with my father, who is here for business, however, he"s so preoccupied that I spend time on my own. My chaperone keeps an eye on me, though."

"Your chaperone?" Benedict raised an eyebrow.

"Charlotte, you"ve met her." Victor nodded at the door.

It took Benedict a moment to realize who he was referring to.

"You mean the woman in the pink dress?"

"That"s her."

"Is she…Is she also a drag queen?"

Vivienne nodded.

"I don't want to involve more people in this," said Benedict. "If this gets out…"

"Wealthy French girls never travel alone," Victor said firmly. "That's inappropriate. You, of all people, should know that. Besides, you can trust Charlotte. I trust her with my life."

Benedict thought it over before finally nodding. "All right then. But can you guarantee she won"t steal our silverware?" he asked, half joking.

Victor rolled his eyes. "It"s always about wealth and possessions with you, isn't it?"

"It's not. I just don"t want to be made a fool of."

"Well, you're a bit late with that," Victor replied with a smirk. "I'm just kidding," he added, noticing Benedict's anxious look. "Relax. I'm a drag queen, I know I can pull this off." He thought for a moment before adding, "I think we're all set. Just make sure you can pay for the dresses." He smiled. "French girls wear silk."

"I have money," Benedict said sheepishly.

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

***

Barely a week had passed after Benedict's sudden confession to his mother and Lady Hawthorne before all of Shorewitch knew he was in love. Soon, it became clear that invitations for the Blackmoor ball would need to go to almost everyone they knew.

Benedict was both surprised and annoyed by the speed with which the gossip spread around the neighborhood. Everybody wanted to meet the woman who had captured Benedict Blackmoor's heart. Most of all—his mother.

It seemed that the news of her son"s unexpected infatuation was the only thing distracting Lilibeth from her worries about Grandfather Henry"s sudden illness. She spent all week in preparations for the ball, giving orders to Maria and the rest of the servants and fussing over the million tiny things they absolutely needed to do.

Grandfather Henry was, too, delighted to hear about Benedict"s unexpected romance. Each time they met at breakfast, lunch, or dinner, he eagerly asked about Miss LaFleur, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Yet, despite his enthusiasm, something in his demeanor suggested to Benedict that his grandfather might be masking his true feelings, which added to Benedict"s overall anxiety.

As expected, Percy turned out to be the main skeptic in the family. Learning that a ball would soon take place at Blackmoor, where he was to meet Benedict"s supposed love interest, Percy burst into laughter and couldn"t compose himself for a good quarter of an hour.

"A cow will cough before Benedict falls in love," he said smugly to his mother.

But when he realized that the girl in question actually existed, Percy claimed that Benedict was simply lying about being in love, hoping that their grandfather would give up his ultimatum.

"Remember," Benedict whispered, cornering Percy in the hallway after dinner that night, "If I"m lying, then you and Beatrice will never get married. So spreading nonsense isn"t in your best interest."

Percy gave him an annoyed look but didn't reply.

***

It was soon decided that the family would meet Miss LaFleur LaFleur the day before the ball. Benedict was to invite the guest to dine at Blackmoor, and so he did by sending a message to The Shiny Clam.

On the day of Vivienne's arrival, the entire household assembled along the driveway to greet her. The maids, their aprons freshly pressed, huddled behind Maria; the valets and footmen, neatly combed, stood behind Samuel the butler, ready to spring into action as soon as the carriage arrived.

The entire Blackmoor family was there as well: Lilibeth in the front with Benedict, Percy behind them next to Grandfather Henry. The latter insisted on greeting Vivienne outside despite Lilibeth's concerns that his heart condition might worsen if he caught a cold.

Beatrice Glasscock, their third cousin and Percy"s fiancée, also came and took her place alongside Percy. She was very short and overall petite, with a round cherubic face framed by curls and a proud demeanor.

The agitation lingered in the air. Benedict felt it, too, but for a different reason. The riskiness of his venture dawned on him at the last moment, and the consequences of failure loomed like a sword above his head. If the truth came out, he would not only lose his inheritance but also his family's trust and respect. And God knows what will be said about him in the high society of Shorewitch… A nobleman consorting with a drag queen? What a travesty! Not to mention how upset it would make Grandfather Henry.

Standing on the doorstep waiting for Vivienne, Benedict anxiously thought over the possibility of his grandfather suffering a heart attack if he found out the truth.

"Look! There they are!" a maid's excited voice drew Benedict from his musings.

A carriage appeared in the distance, stirring gusts of dust in the air as the horses made their way towards the manor. The maids whispered louder and laughed with excitement, but Maria silenced them with a single look.

Soon, the carriage stopped on the driveway, and two footmen rushed to help the guests. Charlotte—the drag queen Benedict had seen at the cabaret on his last visit—stepped outside first. Ignoring the footman's extended hand, she clumsily tumbled out of the carriage and onto the cobblestone pavement. Thankfully, today she was wearing a less extravagant dress: it was long, in muted dark colors, and with almost no sequins.

Benedict approached the carriage just in time to offer his hand to Vivienne. When she stepped outside, her wavy blond hair and peach-colored silk dress caught the sunlight, glimmering like water. It hugged her figure, a stark contrast to the voluminous gowns worn by Lilibeth and Beatrice.

As Vivienne's gloved hand touched Benedict's fingers, he became acutely aware of the many eyes fixed on them. However, any fear or hesitation vanished the moment he locked eyes with Vivienne. Exuding confidence, she gave him a subtle smile.

As she stepped onto the pavement, Benedict lightly kissed her silk-clad hand.

"Mr. Blackmoor," she acknowledged him with a nod.

Benedict couldn"t help but notice that today, Vivienne seemed like an entirely different person. She was neither the seductive performer at the bar nor the defensive, viper-tongued guy from the dressing room. The only thing Benedict recognized was her eyes—her intense dark eyes—that looked at him with the same defiance as before.

"Welcome," he said, stepping aside to make way for his mother.

The introductions with the family were long and slightly awkward. Grandfather Henry and Lilibeth cordially received the guests, yet their eyes persistently strayed back to Benedict as if they were surprised by his choice of companion. Benedict guessed, he and Vivienne must have looked strange together. He was quiet and composed, while she was all pleasant smiles and hearty compliments. His attire was obsidian black, while Vivienne's sparkled like jewels.

Percy met the guest with evident suspicion as if searching for a trick he couldn"t quite pinpoint. Yet, Vivienne"s charm and politeness towards him—even beyond what Percy deserved—soon melted his icy demeanor.

Beatrice looked taken aback, too, though, judging by the way she scrutinized Vivienne's appearance, probably more so by her daring fashion than anything else.

After the introductions, the party proceeded into the manor. While the servants were engrossed in dinner preparations, everyone retired to the Swan Parlor, where refreshments were promptly served. The family members claimed the sofa and the armchairs by the windows while Charlotte plunged into the comfortable rocking chair by the fireplace, inadvertently leaving Benedict and Vivienne to sit across from each other at the chess table in the center of the room.

Lilibeth and Beatrice were the chattiest of the group. Deciding to draw Vivienne into conversation, they talked to her about the weather, the city, and the chilling winds that had been frequent visitors of late and then proceeded to ask her about France and French ways of life. These were merely precursors, Benedict knew, to the more probing inquiries that would inevitably come later.

While Vivienne engaged in conversation with everyone but Benedict, her gaze would occasionally meet his. Benedict found her expression inscrutable, but he could detect a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"And what about you, Mr. Blackmoor?" she suddenly asked. "Do you enjoy it?"

Benedict was so deep in his thoughts he realized he had lost track of the conversation.

"Do I enjoy what?"

"The sea air at Aberdeen," she said with a smile at the corner of her mouth. He realized she was just making fun of the mere concept of small talk. For some reason, he felt a prick of shame.

"I do. Immensely," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm he knew only Vivienne would catch. "Although I must admit, I haven"t been able to return there since I was five."

"He"s always so tied up with things," Lilibeth said with a sigh. "But that's no excuse. Everyone needs a change of scenery from time to time. Besides, Shorewitch is quite dusty because of all the coaches and carriages. And dust is horrible for one's respiratory system. I always tell Benedict that health is not something to be neglected. You should make time to rest."

"Indeed, you should." Vivienne"s gaze briefly dropped to the table between them, then caught Benedict's. It took him a moment to realize she had sneakily moved a pawn on the chessboard when nobody was looking. Vivienne was silently inviting him to a game of chess.

"I agree," Benedict said, pushing a pawn forward to meet hers. "Although it's quite unfathomable to me how a person nowadays can take care of the estate and of themselves, frequent balls, host balls, read books for mind and pleasure, learn languages, ride horses, hunt, eat well, sleep well, and still find time to go to Aberdeen."

"Indeed," said Vivienne. "And don't forget about producing heirs and enjoying the domestic bliss."

"Well said!" Lilibeth agreed, clearly missing the sarcasm in Vivienne's voice.

"Have you lived in England, Miss LaFleur?" Beatrice interjected from her seat by the window. "You don't seem to have an accent."

"My grandmother was English," Vivienne replied promptly. "I spent summers in England as a child." She advanced another pawn towards the center of the board. The King"s Gambit. "But if I"m honest, I find England rather dull."

Benedict captured her pawn. King"s Gambit accepted.

"Do you?" Lilibeth asked, concern creeping into her voice. "I always thought on the contrary. I wouldn't even say that about Shorewitch! I mean, with all the balls and assemblies—"

"No-no," Charlotte suddenly said with a thick faux-French accent. "It's nofing, comperred to Parrie." She drained her second glass of champagne and looked around the room to spot the tray where she could grab another one. "Parrie is somefing else. We danced wiz princes zere, kan you imajine?"

"Oh, you must be right, Miss Chapeau," Lilibeth said, turning to Charlotte with polite attention. "I've never been to Paris, but I've always dreamed of going there." She looked back at Vivienne. "So what is it about England that unsettles you, Miss LaFleur?"

"The English high society is a little too conservative for my liking," Vivienne said, discreetly making her next move on the chessboard. "There are a lot of rules that people are afraid to break. Plus, there's not much to do here. No wonder so many women end up spending all their days sitting at home."

"And what would you rather do, Miss LaFleur?" Lilibeth asked cautiously.

"Go to the theatre," Vivienne said without hesitation. "Visit museums. Cabarets."

Benedict shot her a warning look. Vivienne pretended not to notice.

"Cabarets!" Beatrice exclaimed, her gaze first shifting to Percy and then back to the guest. "Is frequenting cabarets a good pastime for a lady, Miss LaFleur?" she said, a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

Vivienne's expression was unreadable as she replied with a hint of mirth, "It's certainly more exciting than lulling babies, don't you find?"

Beatrice, flushed, had nothing to say to that.

For a long minute, the Swan Parlor was engulfed in silence.

Benedict moved a chess piece on the board. He was so nervous that his lies would be exposed right then and there that he played quickly, almost without thinking. Their game turned into quick chess.

"You mentioned you spent your summers in England, Miss LaFleur," said Grandfather Henry, finally breaking the silence. "Where exactly?"

"Mostly Streeton. My grandmother owned a house there," said Vivienne.

"But not anymore?"

"We sold it after she passed away."

"Oh, I see."

"And how exactly did you meet Benny?" Percy suddenly asked. He looked thoughtful and a little confused.

"Benny?" Vivienne couldn"t hide a smile.

"I"ve told you, Perce, Charlie Bellinger introduced us," Benedict said, trying not to sound irritated.

"Oh, it's a delightful story," Vivienne said calmly, making another move on the chessboard. "We actually met at a ball. Mr. Blackmoor was quite daring, asking me for a dance even before we were properly introduced."

Benedict captured her bishop. She got distracted and made a mistake.

"We danced all night," she continued.

"All night?" Lilibeth said, unable to conceal the amusement in her voice. "This is so unlike our dear Benedict!"

"Benny never dances twice with the same young lady," Percy explained.

"Oh, he did," said Vivienne, smiling. "I can't say he was very good at it, though."

Benedict caught her gaze, realizing she was teasing him. But before he could reply, she made a move with her Queen, capturing his pawn and checking his King.

"Checkmate," she said inaudibly, barely moving her lips.

Benedict looked at the chessboard. His king was cornered. He lost the game. He hasn't lost to anyone since he was sixteen.

Just in time, Maria entered the Swan Parlor and announced, "Dinner is served."

***

The party transitioned into the Magpie room, where the table was elegantly set. As everybody took their seats around it, the footmen brought in dishes with steamed carrots and potatoes garnished with butter and dill, roasted turkey with cranberry sauce, steaming minced pies, boiled beef, and freshly baked bread.

Charlotte, who sat between Percy and Beatrice, visibly perked up at the sight of food. With such an abundance of dishes on the table, she became so amiable that she even struck up a conversation with Beatrice on the importance of meats in one's diet.

"Not planning to eat?" Vivienne asked Benedict, glancing at his fork forgotten by the plate. He never ate when he was nervous.

"I'm not hungry," Benedict said.

Vivienne smiled. "Didn't take you for a sore loser."

"I'm not."

"You owe me, by the way. Three wishes."

"I'm not a genie. And I wouldn't lose if I wasn't distracted."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

"Fine." Benedict sighed. "Let's play another game."

Vivienne chuckled. "Will I get three wishes if I beat you again?"

He shrugged. "Why not? But you won't beat me."

Lilibeth, who couldn"t hear them from across the table, was clearly intrigued by their hushed conversation.

"You two are quite a pair," she told them, shifting her gaze from the guest to her son and back. "Very different. But both very handsome. One could certainly imagine how beautiful your children would look."

Benedict barely held himself from rolling his eyes. He had deliberately mentioned beforehand that Vivienne was unaware of his feelings, knowing that otherwise, his mother would steer any conversation with her towards marriage and family. Benedict felt a little relieved that this was all just a charade, sparing him any real embarrassment.

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Blackmoor," Vivienne said, giving Benedict a short glance tinged with amusement. "But, to be honest, the very idea of having children seems daunting to me," she said nonchalantly. "They demand too much of a woman's time and peace of mind, yet hardly any from a man. Which is quite unfair, isn't it? Besides, it takes them far too long to mature into individuals that you could hold a meaningful conversation with."

Lilibeth's cheerful smile faded almost instantly.

"Of course, it might seem so, dear," she said with a shadow of concern in her voice. "But once you have them, you forget about everything else. They become the most important thing in your life."

"I…" Vivienne started, but before she could continue, Benedict nudged her foot under the table. For a moment, Vivienne stared at him, her jaw clenched. Then turned to Lilibeth with the sweetest smile on her face. "Your son says the same thing. I'm sure you know it, but he's such a romantic."

"He is?" Lilibeth said with surprise.

"Indeed. He always speaks about finding the right woman and starting a family."

Benedict nudged Vivienne's foot again, yet she gave no indication of noticing.

"I'm really happy to hear that," said Lilibeth, smiling back. "To be honest, Miss LaFleur, he never shares anything like that with us."

"He"s very secretive, isn"t he?"

"Oh, he is!"

"You should eat, Miss LaFleur," Benedict said. "Your food is getting cold."

Suddenly, the Magpie room doors swung open. Samuel the butler came into the room and approached first Grandfather Henry, then Lilibeth.

"Oh, please let her in!" Lilibeth said.

The butler nodded and left the room. Everyone at the table exchanged puzzled looks. But before Lilibeth could explain anything, the butler came right back.

"Lady Hawthorne," he announced.

The woman entered. Lady Hawthorne looked different today compared to the last time Benedict saw her. She was wearing a youthful beige ruffled dress, her hair arranged in curls around her face.

From his mother"s cordial greeting, Benedict realized that the visit was not unexpected. He only noticed an additional place setting when Lady Hawthorne sat at the table beside Lilibeth.

"I"m sorry I"m late," Lady Hawthorne said. "There was a problem with my carriage wheel."

Had his mother invited the matchmaker to assess his taste in women?

"What a delightful surprise, Lady Hawthorne," said Grandfather Henry. "How is Lord Hawthorne doing? It"s been a while since I last saw him."

"Oh, he's fine, fine as usual," the matchmaker said dismissively. "I promised Lilibeth a while ago that I would come to dinner, and today, at last, I found myself with a free evening. And how is my favorite Blackmoor family?" Her gaze immediately shifted to Vivienne. "Oh, I see some new faces!"

Benedict clenched his jaw, struggling to hold back a snort at her dreadful performance.

"Yes, this is Miss LaFleur LaFleur, Benedict"s friend from France," said Lilibeth.

Vivienne nodded to the guest with her calibrated smile. "How do you do?"

"And that is Ms. Charlotte Chapeau, Miss LaFleur's chaperone." Lilibeth pointed at Charlotte, who was ferociously tearing into a chicken leg.

"Goode avternoone!" Charlotte mumbled through chewing with her ridiculous French accent.

"The rest of the company, I believe, you"re already familiar with," Lilibeth said. "Miss LaFleur, Ms. Chapeau, Lady Hawthorne is a friend of the family."

"And a matchmaker," Lady Hawthorne added, her eyes digging into Vivienne like a vulture"s claws into its prey. "Are you here to spend the winter in Shorewitch, Miss LaFleur?"

"Oh yes," said Vivienne in the sweetest tone. "The weather in Shorewitch is much more pleasant than in the south of France at this time of year."

"Is that so?" Grandfather Henry exclaimed in surprise.

"I never would have guessed," said Benedict, his tone strained.

"Oh no, you see, I adore mud," Vivienne said with a hint of amusement, and everyone at the table laughed. Except for Lady Hawthorne.

She gave the guest a chilly smile. "And how long is it that you plan to grace Shorewitch with your presence, Miss LaFleur?"

"My father is here on business, so I intend to stay for as long as he does," Vivienne said.

"And what is the nature of his business?"

"He"s involved in the tobacco trade."

"He must be very rich then?"

"I was curious, how"s your matchmaking venture going, Lady Hawthorne?" Benedict cut in, sensing that the conversation was edging towards an interrogation.

"Oh, I"m delighted you asked, Mr. Blackmoor," she said with a chuckle. "Last month, I successfully matched Miss Smellings from Charbridge. And with whom do you think? None other than Lord Herrings from our own Shorewitch, who, as you probably know, is obscenely wealthy. They are already engaged to be married in March. Can you believe that?"

"You really do have a keen eye for such matters, Lady Hawthorne," Lilibeth said with respect.

"People say I do," Lady Hawthorne replied, looking quite pleased with herself. "One can"t deny that those two are, as the saying goes, a match made in heaven."

"Isn't Lord Herrings, like, seventy years old?" Percy asked, and Benedict almost laughed out loud, making a mental note to do something nice for Percy solely for this snide remark.

"He's sixty-eight," Lady Hawthorn answered, somewhat reluctantly. "But love knows no age, does it?"

"It certainly does not," Lilibeth quickly added, giving Percy a pointed look before turning to Benedict. "Don't you agree, dear?"

"Absolutely," Benedict said. "I"m just curious if this match was easy and straightforward for Lady Hawthorne, considering her remarkable matchmaking talent, along with Lord Herrings' age and likely desperation."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Blackmoor," Lady Hawthorne said. "Finding a suitable match for Miss Smellings was quite a task. She's young and accomplished; however, doesn"t have a single penny to her name. And I wouldn"t exactly describe her as attractive. I must confess, at first, Lord Herrings was hesitant. He was inclined to keep searching, but ultimately, he came to accept that one can"t have everything."

"Not all people want everything," said Percy. "Some are perfectly happy with whatever life gives them."

"I agree," Beatrice said, her voice barely audible.

"Oh yes," Lilibeth agreed. "Over time, you begin to appreciate things, even if they weren"t what you initially sought. Constantly rejecting reality in pursuit of unattainable dreams is unlikely to bring happiness." She tried to sneak a discreet look at Benedict, but he intentionally avoided her gaze, perfectly aware she was alluding to him.

"Yet, imagine how dull life would be if we always just accepted the hand we"re dealt," Vivienne said.

"It most certainly would be," Grandfather Henry concurred. "You have to aim high to achieve anything worthwhile, that's what I think."

"Personally, I fail to see why people always choose the extremes," Benedict commented.

"What"s your approach then, Mr. Blackmoor?" Vivienne asked.

"Simply choosing my battles according to what's beneficial to me at the moment."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, adapting to societal expectations?"

"Oh, he never adapts," said Percy with a shadow of a smile on his lips. "He simply avoids making a decision altogether, hoping that life will somehow sort itself out without his intervention."

Benedict cast his brother a sidelong glance. And here he was, thinking that he and Percy could actually be civil to each other.

"Well, the good news is you won't have to compromise at all, Mr. Blackmoor." Lady Hawthorne chimed in. "Finding a perfect wife for you won't be hard, I promise."

Percy gave a little cough. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Percy," Lilibeth scolded gently.

"You are right, perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself," said Lady Hawthorne. "Rumor has it, you"re as selective as a king when it comes to women, Mr. Blackmoor."

"You don"t say," Vivienne smirked, raising an eyebrow with evident amusement.

"That might be an exaggeration," Benedict countered.

"It"s not," Percy said mockingly, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Benny generally overlooks women, regardless of their interest in him. He can't seem to find anyone who meets his high standards, as if each woman is somehow lacking." His tone was light-hearted, but Benedict sensed the jab.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, a man of such stature must certainly have standards, especially when he's so young, so handsome, and so rich," Lady Hawthorne remarked, blatantly attempting to gain Benedict"s favor.

"Of course," Percy said with a feigned agreement. "It"s just that Benny makes women fall in love with him and then acts as though he"s completely unaware of their feelings." He delivered this with a calm demeanor, punctuating his words with a chuckle. "But he knows exactly what he's doing. He just doesn't care."

Out of the corner of his eye, Benedict noticed Vivienne turn to look at him with surprise, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. Choosing to let this comment slide, Benedict forced a smile. "You know that"s not true, Perce."

"Forgive me, Mr. Blackmoor, but I"m more inclined to agree with your brother," Vivienne said. "I"ve also heard stories about you. A friend of mine claimed you were so charming at first, but then you completely ignored her afterwards."

"Ha!" Percy exclaimed, caught off guard by Vivienne siding with him in the debate. His pale ears and cheeks turned pink with delight.

Benedict met Vivienne"s gaze. Her eyes sparkled with playful mockery.

"I"ve already apologized for that," he said flatly.

"I'm not sure apologies will do, Mr. Blackmoor. You might have to make amends with her in a grander fashion."

"You know, your face looks familiar," Lady Hawthorne observed abruptly, her eyes fixed on Vivienne.

A knot tightened in Benedict"s stomach.

"It does?" Vivienne asked with an air of nonchalance.

"Is it possible that I know you from somewhere?"

"I"m not sure," Vivienne replied. "Though people often tell me I bear a resemblance to that English actress…Charlene Fontaine."

"Oh, I can see the similarity," Lilibeth agreed, considering it.

"Ah, now that you mention it…" Grandfather Henry acknowledged with a nod.

"Perhaps," Lady Hawthorne said, somewhat less enthusiastically.

She then persisted in her questioning, almost as if she expected that with each query, Vivienne would reveal her secrets, particularly how she had charmed the seemingly unapproachable Benedict Blackmoor. Unperturbed by the probing, Vivienne handled each question with ease, responding casually and often with a touch of humor.

Soon, the servants began clearing the dishes and bringing in desserts. Tea was served, accompanied by honey, a variety of nuts, pastries, and chocolate mousse.

Grandfather Henry appeared to be in a cheerful mood, occasionally signaling Maria for a cup of water or an extra napkin. However, every so often, Benedict would catch his grandfather"s gaze on himself. During the dinner, Grandfather Henry mostly remained silent, which was very unlike him to begin with; he was unmistakably observing his grandson, his look unreadable as if he was trying to decipher his thoughts.

When Percy brought up the upcoming ball, Lilibeth shared that the house staff had been busy all week in preparation. As the conversation swirled around the impending festivities, Vivienne subtly edged closer to Benedict.

"You can relax now," she said, her voice so soft that only Benedict could hear her amid the chatter. "You look as if you"re sitting on a pole."

"Please try not to take as much pleasure in my discomfort," Benedict replied in a hushed tone.

"You haven"t eaten anything, which is rather conspicuous."

"It's not. Don"t forget that I"m supposed to be in love with you."

"Are you sure it's me who should be reminded of that?" Vivienne smirked. "At least try to pretend that you want me."

Benedict shot her a look, "You are too careless with your words."

"I apologize. I wasn"t aware that desire was taboo in high society." She always said those two words with a hint of mockery.

"It"s not. But it"s not a topic one typically discusses over family dinner."

"That"s a shame," Vivienne said with a sigh. "What shall we discuss then? Cabarets? Men dressed as women?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but Benedict still felt heat rushing to his face.

"You enjoy tormenting me, knowing full well that I"m at your mercy," he said, keeping his expression neutral and friendly as though they were discussing something pleasant, like books or astronomy.

"I won"t deny it." Vivienne chuckled. "I love the way you blush every time I tease you."

"What are you two being so secretive about?" Lilibeth inquired from across the table.

"Nothing," they replied in unison.