Page 3 of Taming of the Rake
Benedict shook his head to clear it, determined to keep his composure. Where he had been chilled before, he was now burning up within the confines of his greatcoat, a sheen of sweat breaking out along his skin. His insides churned, and his eye twitched—whether due to lack of sleep or his unraveling self-control, he wasn’t certain.
“And just whatdoyou want?” Celeste asked, moving to stand between Benedict and his foe. “What have you to gain from targeting someone who has done nothing to harm you?”
“Mr. Sterling, you will inform your strumpet to keep her silence, or this interview will come to an abrupt end.”
Celeste’s voice raised sharply, “Strumpet? Why you—”
“Enough.” Benedict just barely managed to take hold of her arm before she could advance on the Gossip. He then gently tugged Celeste back to his side. He could feel the hostility thrumming through her. If he turned Celeste loose, she might murder the Gossip with her bare hands. “Will you answer me, then? What do you want?”
“We aren’t here to discuss that.”
“Like hell, we aren’t!” Benedict roared, forgetting the other occupants of the park.
A group of women bundled in furs and hats paused to stare at them before walking on, shaking their heads in disapproval. One of the Gossip’s men edged closer, knuckles cracking as he curled his fists. The Gossip laughed again, and this time it held a note of irony to it. She was toying with him, the little bitch.
Benedict drew in a calming breath and tried again, keeping his voice level this time. “If you didn’t summon me to tell me what you want, why are we here? I hardly needed you to deliver me a copy of your ridiculous paper, as I have already read today’s outrageous fabrication.”
The Gossip scoffed. “My source was a reliable one, and we both know it.”
Benedict ground his teeth, the scandal sheet crumpling in his fist. Damn her, she had him over a barrel. He had already spent the morning rifling through his documents and contracts, trying to decide which of their former clients had betrayed them. He was fairly certain he knew which woman had gone running to the Gossip with her story, and was prepared to deal with her in due time.
“I simply asked you here today to make certain I have your full attention, Mr. Sterling. As you can see, I have been made privy to every so-called gentlemanselling himselfas part of your organization. If you do not wish for me to publish those names, you will give me what I want.”
“I am still waiting for you to tell me exactly what that is.”
There was a slight movement behind the veil, and Benedict detected the flash of white teeth when she smiled. “We will get to that when I’m good and ready, and not before. Think of this as a prelude of sorts, Mr. Sterling. Until recently, I believe you thought of me as nothing more than a minor nuisance. Today, I have come here to inform you that if you don’t fear me yet, you ought to. Youwill.”
“Will I? Where is your proof, your evidence?”
“Oh, but I do have proof. It isn’t much, but it is a start, I am sure you will agree. There’s a collection of distinct calling cards—”
“Which could belong to anyone with the initials G.C.,” he countered with a dismissive wave. “Is that all?”
“There are accounts of a secret office in the back of Madame Hershaw’s dress shop.”
“And when you visited there, what did you find?” Benedict felt bolder now, realizing that what information she did have was now obsolete. He had taken great pains to make sure of that. “I’d wager absolutely nothing.”
“You are awfully brash for a man whose back is against the wall.”
“And you are as stupid as you are arrogant if you think I can be intimidated by names on a list, and an outlandish story you could have spun out of thin air. Unless you have something more substantial than that, we have nothing else to discuss.”
It was a wild gamble, and he knew it. But Benedict had never been one to back down, even when faced with insurmountable odds. Defiance seemed threaded through the very fabric of his being.
The Gossip issued a labored sigh and folded her hands. “I had so hoped we could avoid such unpleasantness, but I can see you are determined to do this the hard way. Very well, then. If you will not give me what I want—”
“Will you come to the point anytime today, or continue beating around the bush?”
She issued a derisive sound. “You know, I don’t believe I will. You seem to be itching for a fight, Mr. Sterling, and I do not want to disappoint you. If it’s war you want, so be it. You cannot say you weren’t warned … more than once.”
Benedict bit back a string of curses as he realized this woman had never intended to bargain with him. She was like a cat playing with a wounded mouse—only, she seemed to expect him to grovel and plead. Apparently, his impudence had only exacerbated her need to toy with him before swallowing him whole.
“Goddamn it, who are you?” he snapped, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. Thus far, she had been beating him at their little game, and it infuriated him to be at such a disadvantage. “What have I ever done to deserve this?”
She made to walk past him, her guards falling in step behind her. Her shoulder brushed his and she paused, staring up at him. Through the gray fabric of her veil, he made out a round face and large dark eyes. His belly clenched with the urge to vomit as her scent assaulted his nostrils.
“Now you’re finally asking the right questions, Mr. Sterling.”
Before he could form the words to respond, she was gone, leading her pack of dogs behind her. Benedict couldn’t give chase, because at that moment the meager contents of his stomach rose swiftly up his throat. He stumbled to the nearest tree, one hand braced on the trunk as he leaned over and retched. His face flushed hot from the exertions, and he nearly crumpled to his knees.
