“I’ve ruined everything.”
They were sitting in the green parlor of No. 48. At least, Adele, Helene, Miss Sewell, and Mr. Cross were sitting. Madelene was not. She was pacing back and forth between the door and the window, quite literally wringing her hands.
“You have not,” Helene said stoutly. “And anyway, we won’t know anything for at least another three days. My research has shown . . .”
“Bother your research,” Adele muttered.
“No one will want to come now,” Madelene said. It was raining outside, and the drops made a drumbeat against the windows. Each tiny thud seemed like a hammer blow to break apart their hopes and their dreams. “Everyone’s talking.”
“They are not,” Helene said, but her fingers were twisting with uncharacteristic nervousness. “Tell her, Miss Sewell, Mister Cross.”
Henry and Deborah exchanged a rather long look. Henry cleared his throat.
“I wish that I could say Lady Helene was correct, but she is not,” he sighed. “I’m afraid I was very much pressed for the details.”
“But that doesn’t mean ruin,” put in Adele, although it would have been better if she hadn’t been nervously clutching at her gold necklace at the same time. “A scandal can be deeply intriguing.”
“We don’t want to be gaped at!” Madelene snapped. “If that’s what happens, we’ll be exactly as we were. No. We’ll be even worse off, because we’ll be disgraced as well as ignored.” She hurried over to Helene. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my . . .”
At that moment the door opened, and they all turned. But it wasn’t the housekeeper, as Madelene expected. It was Benedict, his hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. He clutched a sodden leather satchel in both hands. He ignored the rest of the room and went straight up to Madelene.
He laid the satchel in her hands. She closed her hands around it, and Benedict smiled.
“He says he thought she might want this,” Henry translated.
“What is it?” Helene demanded.
“The morning post, I expect,” Miss Sewell said. “How on earth did you manage to get hold of it, Lord Benedict?”
Madelene’s hands curled around the satchel. She smiled, an entirely silly smile to see Benedict looking so damp and disheveled and distracted and utterly wonderful.
“Madelene says thank you, that was most thoughtful,” Adele said.
The pair of them had not looked away from each other. Indeed, they had scarcely blinked.
Helene rolled her eyes and lifted the satchel out of Madelene’s hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Madelene said. “That was . . .”
“Never mind it.” Helene plopped on the sofa beside Miss Sewell and opened the satchel. She stopped. She stared.
Madelene seized Benedict’s hand and squeezed tightly. He smiled and put a finger to his lips.
Helene dipped her hand inside the pouch. She brought out a massive pile of cards. Then another. Then a third.
Adele sucked in a deep breath and twisted her gold chain around her fingers.
“Go on, Helene,” Miss Sewell said. “We need to know where we stand.”
Helene bit her lip and lifted a card off the first stack. Her jaw clenched, and she broke the seal. Henry leaned forward, his face a bland mask, but the concern showed in his blue eyes.
Helene opened the card. She cleared her throat. Madelene’s knees trembled.
“Lady Montrose writes . . .” Helene stammered. “Lady Montrose writes Miss Sewell and says she will accept her invitation to the ball of June 27 with greatest pleasure.”
Miss Sewell reached out and snapped the seal on a second note. “Mrs. Oswald, on behalf of herself and Miss Oswald and Mister Richard Oswald, accepts with pleasure.”
Adele grabbed up another note and tore it open. “Mrs. Finchely accepts.”
“Lady Wallace accepts.”
“Her Grace the Countess of Charingford accepts!”
“Mrs. Campbell accepts!”
“Lady Oliver accepts!”
“Oh!” Adele slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes went round with shock. “Oh! The Countess Lieven accepts!” she cried, waving the card aloft like a flag of victory. “The Almack’s patroness Countess Lieven accepts!”
The parlor erupted, and everyone was on their feet shouting hurrah and hugging and tossing cards in the air like confetti. Henry whirled Madelene around in his arms until she was dizzy and stumbling.
And of course, of course Benedict caught her in his strong arms. And he pulled her close and gazed down at her. He was smiling, his eyes alight with his own quiet fire.
“And Miss Valmeyer?” he whispered. “What does Miss Valmeyer say?”
Madelene’s heart had been racing. She had been trembling. Now, she felt quite still. She felt whole, and with Benedict’s arms around her, she knew she had finally discovered her truest self.
“Miss Valmeyer accepts.”