Page 43 of How to Ruin a Duke
“Mr.MacHugh has all the domestic guidance authors he needs.He suggested I proceed by subscription, but Mr.Ventnor, I am a lady by birth.I cannot be seen importuning my friends to support my publishing endeavors.The result would label my literary aspirations charity, and I will not be made into an object of pity.”Moreover, the goal of Edith’s considerable writing efforts was to earn money, not to perfect her begging skills.
When male authors drummed up support for a book yet to be written—much less published—that was business as usual.A woman in the same posture met with a very different reception.
Mr.Ventnor rose.“Leave me some of your writing samples.If I can’t publish you, I might think of somebody who can once I have a sense of your voice and tone.Reading for entertainment is becoming stylish, and whoever can write the nextHow to Ruin a Dukewill be assured of a long and lucrative career.”
If I never hear of that book again…“Might I consider my writing samples and send you the best of the lot?”
Ventnor was rumored to be a decent sort.He had a wife and family, he paid his authors honestly—not a given, in London’s publishing community—and he met with impoverished spinsters when he doubtless had other things to do.
And yet, paper was precious.Edith had only the single final copies of the samples she’d brought, thinking to pass them over for Mr.Ventnor’s perusal while she’d waited.
“You may send them along,” he said, offering his hand to assist her to her feet.“But promise me you will show me something.Too many authors claim they seek publication, and when I ask for a sample, they fuss and dither and delay, gilding the lily—or tarnishing it, more likely—until their courage has ebbed to nothing.Send me something within the week.”
“I can make you that promise, sir.”
He was mannerly.Edith gave him grudging respect for that.As an earl’s daughter, she’d met many mannerly men.Only those who offered her courtesy when nobody compelled it earned her admiration.Ventnor could have been rude rather than kind, and Edith would nonetheless have applied to him for work.
He walked with her to the front door, past all the editors at their desks and clerks with their green visors.The air of industry here was unmistakable and fascinating.An earl’s daughter was raised to be an ornament, idling from one entertainment to the next.A lady’s companion might be kept busy, but she could notlookbusy.
These fellows gloried in their work, and in the challenge of making a business successful.
“Have you considered finding another post as a lady’s companion?”Mr.Ventnor asked, passing Edith her cloak.“My in-laws move in polite society at levels above what a mere publisher can aspire to.I could ask my wife to make inquiries through her sister.”
He really was kind, and Edith really did want to smack him with her reticule.She’d learned to keep a copy of the first volume ofGlenarvonin her bag the better to deter pickpockets and presuming men.Heaven knew Lady Caroline’s book had few other redeeming qualities.
“I have had my fill of being a lady’s companion,” Edith said.“It did not end well.”She put her Sunday bonnet on and tied the ribbons loosely.The day was fine, and even a poor spinster could enjoy a beautiful spring afternoon.“Companions are not generously compensated, and they are pitied when they aren’t held in contempt.”
By polite society.The servant class, much to Edith’s surprise, had been far more tolerant and welcoming.
Ventnor bowed over her hand.“Send me those writing samples, please, and I will consult my family on your behalf.Necessity sometimes compels us into situations we’d otherwise avoid, but circumstances unfortunate on their face can end happily.”
He spoke as if from experience, when to all appearances he was a contented and prosperous man.
“If you say so, Mr.Ventnor, though necessity has landed many a decent woman in ruin.Good afternoon and thank you for your time.”Edith let herself out into the lovely day, the sun a benevolence and the London air enjoying a rare freshness.The day was a lie, promising pretty flowers and blossom-scented breezes rather than the stinking oppression of the coming summer.
A pretty lie, like much of polite society.
Edith set off down the walk, abundantly aware that she had not even a footman to accompany her.Women of the lower orders moved about as they pleased, but their freedom made them less safe.As a companion to a duchess, Edith had been safe on the streets, something she’d taken for granted.
She ought not to have said that part about decent women being brought to ruin to Mr.Ventnor, though the word haunted her.That silly book—How to Ruin a Duke—couched ruin in terms of stupid pranks, idiot wagers, and pleasures of the flesh.Those venalities were hardly ruinous to a duke.
True ruin meant horrors that gave Edith nightmares.Debtor’s prison for Foster, worse for Edith herself.
She was so sunk in dread over those familiar worries that she didn’t see the oversized lout who plowed into her right on the walkway.The instant after he’d nearly trampled her, she caught his scent, a particular blend of grassy and floral fragrances.
Such a beautiful, warm fragrance for such a chilly, self-possessed man.
The Duke of Emory steadied her with a hand on each of her arms.“I do beg your pardon, ma’am.I was at risk for tardiness at my next appointment and one is loath to inconvenience another who has—”
She stepped back, her reticule catching His Grace a glancing blow that he seemed not to notice.“Hands off, Your Grace.Please watch where you are going.Last I heard, gentlemen were to yield the way to ladies, but then—”
“You,” he said, glaring down the ducal beak.“The very person who has authored all of my difficulties.”
Emory was a monument to aristocratic self-possession, but unless he had changed very much in the past six months, he wasn’t given to rudeness or wild fancies.
“Your difficulties are the envy of those who must work for a living.Excuse me, sir.”She tried to maneuver around him, but for a big man, he was nimble.
“I do not excuse you.I hold you accountable for a wrong done to me and to my family, and I intend to seek retribution from the perpetrator.”
