Benedict froze halfway through taking a sip.
He lowered the glass very carefully onto the table. "I'm sorry," he said after several stunned seconds. "Would you mind repeating that? I fear the word collided rather violently with everything I have known about you."
Damien took a long swallow of brandy before answering. "I am engaged."
For perhaps the first time in their entire friendship, Benedict Hale found himself entirely speechless.
"You?" he finally managed. "Voluntarily?"
Damien ignored the obvious provocation. "I proposed to Lady Seraphine Fairchild."
Benedict stared. Then stared some more. Finally he blinked.
"Laurent's sister-in-law?" he asked slowly.
"Yes," Damien said.
"And one of your sister’s closest relations. I’m assuming this is the same Lady Seraphine who attended Amberhall?"
"Yes."
His friend leaned back heavily and let out a low whistle. "Well..." Benedict murmured thoughtfully. "I certainly did not anticipate that sentence when I awoke this morning."
He studied Damien for another long moment before folding his arms.
"So," Benedict said carefully, "you fell for her at the party."
Damien's jaw tightened. Images flashed unwillingly through his mind. Seraphine laughing beside the pond. Seraphine rolling her eyes at him. Seraphine in that red silk gown. Seraphine kissing him inside the storage room. His heart betrayed him with painful certainty.
He deliberately looked away.
"Let us simply say," Damien answered quietly, "that it became necessary for me to marry her."
Benedict's smile faded. "You sound remarkably like a barrister reading legal documents."
Damien ignored the observation.
"I have already obtained the special license," he continued. "Her wedding clothes have been purchased. We shall be married this week."
"So soon?" Benedict asked, genuine surprise replacing humor.
Damien merely lifted his glass. Silence became answer enough.
Benedict regarded him thoughtfully before nodding once. "Very well," he said. "Whatever the circumstances, I presume you expect me to attend."
"I do."
Benedict's familiar grin returned. "I would not miss it for all the estates in England."
Their dinner arrived moments later. Silver covers were lifted to reveal generous slices of roast beef surrounded by roasted potatoes, buttered carrots and parsnips glistening beneath fresh herbs. The rich aroma briefly replaced the weight hanging over the conversation.
For several minutes they ate in companionable silence. Damien appreciated it. Too many people filled silence with unnecessary words. Benedict, remarkably, allowed him that luxury.
Eventually, however, curiosity won. He set down his knife and regarded Damien over the rim of his glass. "May I ask you one question?"
Damien continued cutting his beef. "You shall ask regardless."
"Probably." Benedict smiled.
