Madame Hubert could easily tell the world everything Adelaide had just related. What would Basset say to that?

Adelaide looked at the woman carefully, wondering just how far her spite for her impending marriage and insufferable intended would take her.

If she were truly to make this situation her own, to take power she had never been offered, she would need the opinion of Society behind her. She would need to be as unaffected by her feelings for the man she was marrying as she was by her feelings for every dandy vying for a dance with her. She would rise above such things and make the world believe her facade, just as she had been doing ever since she had been presented at Court.

Not only would her wedding be a triumph, but her marriage would be also. Lord and Lady Basset of wherever it was he was from would be the envy of any society they embarked upon, be it London, Cornwall, or Paris. They would be most agreeable spouses, even flirtatious, if must be, so that the world might witness their union and yearn for one akin to it.

No one would need to know that they could not abide one another. That there was no affection in their relationship. That Adelaide would wish to claw his eyes out, and he might wish her forever silent. There would be nothing to see in any public realm that would ever raise an eyebrow or a question. Unless the eyebrows were due to blatant flirtation, and the question one of their adoration for one another.

All others would be forbidden. Adelaide would not have it. And what Adelaide wanted, Adelaide received.

Within reason.

She could not now change and claim to adore her husband, which meant that the next few weeks would be crucial. She must lay the groundwork for her plot, show herself to be amenable to the idea of wedding Basset and to the personage of him. She must cease her tempers and displays of disgust, must receive his flowers, should he deign to send any more after her ceremonial dismembering of them. She must be moderately docile, though not untrue to the nature she had spent so very long cultivating. She must become the wife of a baron she would shortly be named in truth and begin her schemes to further her own ends.

Miss Adelaide Dyer held no power in her hands.

Lady Adelaide Basset would hold a great deal.

And if Adelaide could persuade Basset to go along with the facade for the world, she might hold a great deal more.

She bit her lip in thought as Madame Hubert returned to working with the taffeta at her bodice. “Madame, do you happen to know of a reputable watchmaker near here?”

“Oui, Miss Dyer,” came the easy reply, the practiced accent returning once more. “Just a few shops down.”