Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Inside one of the affluent bachelor apartments of The Albany in Piccadilly, Reed was sprawled out in his bedchamber when the door opened with little more than a warning knock.
He reached instinctively for the pistol he kept at his bedside table.
Survival instincts from his past that would likely never cease.
He sat up with a glare, his intentions clear as he trained his weapon on the unwanted intruder. He was not in the habit of employing many servants, and they knew better than to disturb him unless he specifically asked.
When his brain caught up to his actions and he spied Jackson standing in the doorway with his hands in the air in surrender, he lowered his weapon.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.
“You are fortunate you are still standing right now.” His stomach wanted to protest his every movement as the alcohol he’d consumed threatened to make a resurgence from the previous evening.
He’d gone out carousing with Jackson, James, and Henry after the upset at the pond.
He had never craved a drink so bad as he had after meeting the lady in pink.
He had done his best to exorcise her memory from his mind, but considering she was the first image that entered his thoughts now, it was obvious he’d failed miserably at the attempt.
“I do apologize for the intrusion,” he noted, not sounding sorry in the least. “But I thought you should see this.” He held a paper out to him.
Reed took the item and glanced at the top before he tossed it to the side. “Since when do you care about the scandal sheets?” he asked sourly. “Please tell me you did not disturb me for that solitary reason?”
“Just read the damned thing,” Jackson snapped.
With a sigh, Reed gathered up a column by the renowned Brazen Belle, a woman who enjoyed causing havoc with gentlemen of the ton—and beyond. For some reason, an unwelcome sensation crawled up his spine.
What a story this author has to tell—and it all starts at the Peerless Pond.
Yesterday afternoon it was brought to my attention that a certain lady took an unwanted dunk in this popular swimming destination.
She is not any woman in London, but the unmarried daughter of Baron F-.
I am sure I do not need to actually name Miss S- as her identity has clearly been besmirched by her shocking actions without a proper chaperone to warn her against the dangers that had been present at such a public setting.
It is my duty to report that she was not alone in this endeavor but accompanied by Lady M- and Lady A-, both of whom are fellow debutantes.
But I digress.
This column is, and has always been, about those rakes we both adore and abhor in equal measures.
The gentleman in question is connected to an up-and-coming shipping venture.
Mr. C- is becoming quite known for his ruthless business proposals and dealings within the upper classes.
His knowledge is unsurpassed and his reputation precedes him.
Rumor has it that the girth of his… bank account is quite impressive.
While the rest of his proclivities have never been particularly savory, this former blew boy’s heroic actions at the Pond might very well prove that he is worth redemption.
Could it be that Miss S- is the cure to rake this gentleman over the coals for good?
I, for one, will be anticipating the next move in this game with bated breath.
Until next month’s delicious episode, lovely readers.
The Belle
Reed stared at the black and white print for several minutes, hardly daring to believe that he had become the latest victim to fall prey to the Rake Review.
He had never imagined acquiring that sort of notice, but it was obvious that the lady’s spies were placed all over this wretched city and no one was safe from her poisoned pen.
Ironically, it wasn’t the column itself that had stood out the most, but that he now knew the mysterious lady in pink’s identity. He did not immediately recall meeting with any barons, but he wondered if it wasn’t time to call upon one.
However, for Jackson’s sake, he made a show of crumpling the broadsheet and tossing it to the floor in a discarded heap. “Gossip eventually dies down. This will too.”
“I should hope so,” Jackson remarked. “Unless, of course, the newfound publicity will garner us some additional business through our front door.”
“Do you feel as though the numbers are few now?” Reed pointed out.
“The last time I reviewed our books, we were making more money than we know what to do with. If your share of the proceeds is not gaining interest, then I would suggest refraining from the gaming hells for a time. I know my coffers are near bursting with profit. Or did you not read that part in the column?”
Jackson offered a terse smile. “I did not miss that part, no. But neither am I certain what we should do about this.”
“Why must we do anything at all?” Reed countered.
He got to his feet, glad that he’d donned a pair of smallclothes before he’d gone to bed the previous evening.
If not, then Jackson would be privy to the rest of his…
girth. Slipping on a pair of fresh trousers and gathering the rest of his attire, he added, “Gossip in London is as frequent as the rats that traverse the West End. The excitement will eventually die down and we can proceed with business as usual.”
Jackson didn’t seem convinced. “I am not certain anything that has to do with the notorious Belle is ignored that easily. There are established clubs in the city, dedicated to none other than wagering who the Belle might actually be and who her next victim is on the list. If you think this is all going to fade away so soon and not affect our joint venture, then I fear you are sadly mistaken.” He took a deep breath.
“While we all hope that this will open more doors previously closed to us, I spoke with James and Henry this morning, and we all agreed that it would be for the best if you refrain from going to the office for a while.”
In the midst of buttoning his waistcoat, Reed stopped and stared at the other man. “Is this in jest? Or are you actually ostracizing me from the very business that I tirelessly helped to organize?”
Jackson lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is not an easy thing to hear, but we all decided—”
“To shove me out the door for something that was beyond my control?” Reed snapped irritably.
He could not believe that he was actually being punished for trying to do a good deed.
There was a reason he had always chosen a more scandalous path, because it seemed that was expected of a gentleman.
But to actually do something worthy, that was strictly forbidden.
“Should I have let the daughter of a baron drown?”
“That is not what I am saying and you well know it,” Jackson fired back, his own annoyance bursting forth.
“I am merely suggesting a brief holiday from the docks while we monitor how this will affect our current dealings. We do not want everything we’ve worked so hard for to crumble at our feet because of the stroke of a malicious pen. ”
Reed shook his head. “This is ridiculous. How long am I supposed to wait to make an appearance?”
“Until the worst of the gossip subsides. I should think you would want to escape the circus that this will inevitably turn into.” Jackson paused. “In the interim, perhaps you could call upon the baron and his daughter.”
Reed blinked. “Have you lost your bloody mind? If you think that being around the docks could damage our reputation, what do you think will happen if I am actually spotted at the baron’s residence making a formal social call?”
“I think it would be a show of gentlemanly honor, to prove that you were not attempting to contrive anything nefarious and you were truly just concerned over the lady’s welfare.”
“And if the baron refuses to grant me an audience because I am a commoner? Would that not be more detrimental?”
“I do not imagine that will be a problem. He will be concerned over the ensuing gossip surrounding his daughter’s reputation and will want to do whatever is necessary to mitigate the damage it could cause for her future prospects in the marriage market.”
“That is not my concern.” Reed adjusted his cravat and slipped his arms through his jacket.
“The lady made her sentiments quite clear about what sort of man I was when she accused me of ignoring her modesty when I had just pulled her limp form from the midst of a watery grave. You will have to forgive me if I do not see the sense in your advice.”
He headed to the front door, with the determination of going on with life as usual, but when he would have headed outside, he stopped when he discovered a crowd lying in wait in the front of the apartment complex. “What the devil—?” he breathed.
Someone glanced up and spotted him. Throwing up their arm, the individual pointed a finger straight at him. “There he is!” Reed quickly slammed the door shut. He turned to see Jackson standing behind him with a lifted brow.
“Perhaps now you might listen to reason?”
“You must listen to reason!”
It was all Sariah could do not to roll her eyes at her father’s ill humor early the next morning. He still grasped the latest edition of the Rake Review in his grasp, the veins in his neck prominent from his anger. Her mother had already departed the study, taken to her bed with a fit of nerves.
“It was nothing, Papa.” She should have known she was merely wasting her breath trying to convince him otherwise. He would rather believe words in a scandal rag than take the word of his own daughter.
“Going to that Pond with two other unmarried ladies when it is quite well-known what sort of discrepancies take place there, and you claim it is nothing? You will be very fortunate indeed if this does not damage your reputation beyond all hope of repair.”