Page 11 of Season of the Scoundrel
“You truly wish to accuse a nobleman publicly?” he asked, then lifted his head to pin her with his deep blue gaze.
Ivy nodded. “I know it’s audacious, but you must see the work I’ve done. What other conclusion could one draw but that Lord Penrose is at the heart of something nefarious?”
“Mmm.”
The sound, whatever it meant, was maddening.
“Do you not see that, Your Grace?”
“What I would like to see is your research, Miss Bridewell. To publicly accuse a viscount, or anyone, is treacherous.”
“More so than letting a man commit crimes with impunity?”
“What you have here is supposition, Miss Bridewell. Not proof.” He pointed at her handwritten article, and she noticed a signet ring glinting on his pinky finger. He pointed with his left hand. It was the same hand that had rested, if only briefly, against her middle yesterday. “If you found proof of a crime, that would be the purview of the Metropolitan Police.”
“Mmmm.” Ivy used his technique and drew out the sound a bit for good measure.
The duke chuckled. “I think I would like to publish your Porphyrion piece, Miss Bridewell. We must consult with Mr. Nolan, one of our editors. He’ll have the final say.”
Blackbourne seemed to have an unerring ability to discombobulate her.
She smiled, and his gaze immediately flicked down to her mouth. That caused a disconcerting rush of heat to flare in her middle—right where he’d touched her.
“You mean it?” she asked him.
“Of course I do.”
A terrible thought dimmed a bit of her excitement. “Are you doing this because Griffin asked you to?”
He settled back in his chair and looked at her as if she’d confused him.
“I am not. Edgerton asked me to tell you a bit about the newspaper business. He requested nothing more.”
Ivy nodded, and she believed him. Griffin knew she was determined to succeed on her own talents.
“I see merit in the piece,” he said, glancing down at her open folio. “You have taken care to show the human toll of thescheme. That’s what was missing from the other coverage. And your writing is quite poignant at times.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Ivy felt as if someone had presented her with a longed-for gift. Though she’d wanted it desperately, she felt overwhelmed too.
“Shall we go and speak to Mr. Nolan together?”
“Yes. Please.” She couldn’t seem to manage more than simple, single-syllable responses.
When he got to his feet, she did too, and when he passed her to approach the door, she tried to ignore his scent, his height, the magnetism he seemed to exude.
Blackbourne was offering her an opportunity she’d dreamed of. He saw her potential. This chance might launch her future as a journalist.
It was crucial that their connection remain professional.
Therefore, she could not be distracted by his handsome face. Or whatever scent she caught on the air when he walked by. Or by the fact that she knew what it felt like when there wasn’t an inch of space between his body and hers.
CHAPTER 4
The clink of silverware and porcelain mixed with the din of conversation as Griffin, Lily, Ivy, and their younger twin sisters took their seats at a table in The Savoy’s dining room later that evening.
As soon as Ivy told her sisters that the editor atThe Sentinelwished to publish her Porphyrion story in an upcoming issue, they insisted on celebrating. It was a social event Ivy couldn’t refuse, since everyone was cheerful on her behalf, and she wanted the chance to thank Griffin for his introduction to Blackbourne.
