“If you take away my carbs I’ll waste away. She’s just upset that my ideal meal is bread slathered in butter. Maybe with some cheese on the side.”

Benedict leans on the counter, resting his elbows against it.

“I don’t quite understand the fascination, honestly. There’s this blog that’s come out recently by someone calling themselves Lady Whistledown. It’s not much better than a tabloid but everyone I know is so obsessed, she seems to know everything about everyone but no one knows who she might be.”