Page 5 of Taming of the Rake
“Yes. She knows our names, though the fact that she hasn’t published them yet brings me some modicum of comfort.”
She tapped her finger against her chin and narrowed her eyes. “If that woman had anything other than a list of names, she would have gone public by now. Aside from her so-called ‘anonymous’ source and the story she published this morning, I daresay she has nothing of any substance.”
Benedict shook his head and sighed. “She still knows far too much for my peace of mind. I worry that today’s story is going to rattle the other courtesans as well as our clients—both past and current. If one of us can be betrayed by a former lover, we are all in danger of exposure.”
“Then you came to the same conclusion I did? This morning’s column was about Dominick.”
“So it would seem. There are two courtesans with dark hair who have earls for fathers. But only one of them had a nine-month affair with a widow with enough gall to go running to the Gossip with her story.”
“Lady Thrush,” Millicent spat, upper lip curling with derision. “I have always disliked that woman. She never stopped wanting him, you know, and only ended their arrangement because of her husband’s jealousy. The moment he died, she began plotting her course back to poor Nick. She hardly waited until her time of mourning had passed.”
“Dominick told me she accosted him at Viscount Barrington’s house party. She was quite … aggressive. Of course, he refused her and went on to elope with Miss Barrington a few weeks later. So, Lady Thrush certainly seems to have a motive—however maniacal it may be.”
“Only an insecure woman makes such a cake of herself over a man.”
Benedict grinned. “No … some of you would much rather have the men make cakes of themselves over you.”
“Itisever so much fun,” she replied with a laugh. “But, enough about that, darling. Tell me what I can do to help. Shall I handle Lady Thrush for you? I do have some information I could hang over her head to ensure her silence. She won’t cross me.”
“Iwill deal with her. There is no dirt you can hold over her like the things I am privy to. No, I have a different request to make of you. One that will require the utmost discretion.”
“Discretion is something of a specialty for me, as you well know. Tell me what you need.”
“The London Gossip. I think … no, Iknowshe must be one of us. A member of high society.”
Millicent wrinkled her nose. “Do you really think so? Her writings have always struck me as being rather biasedagainsttheton—as if she were an outider looking in, writing such horrible things out of jealousy.”
“You and I both know one doesn’t need to be an outsider to be made to feel as if they do not belong.”
Her face softened as a hundred confidences floated on the air between them. Over the years, the circle of people he could entrust with the truth had widened a bit. Included among them was Millicent because, like him, she had experienced her share of loss, pain, and darkness. As well, her secret inclinations would make her a pariah if word ever spread, and Benedict knew such a burden well.
“I think I know her,” he whispered, uncertain why he had such a difficult time saying the words. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he recalled that nauseating scent and the sound of her grating voice. “In fact, I’m almost certain we’ve met before and perhaps … you are going to think I’m mad.”
She furrowed her brow, leaning forward to rest a hand on his knee. “Ben, you’ve gone white as a sheet, and you … you’re shaking. What on earth?”
“My father,” he ground out, fighting to regain control of his senses. “He has something to do with this. Not the column, of course, buther… when I saw her today, when I heard her voice, Iknew.”
He felt as if he would be sick but didn’t want to facewhyhe felt this way. It required jabbing at the parts of himself he thought had healed. Apparently, the wounds had merely festered, and now he was going to have to rip them back open.
Millicent rested a hand atop his. “Say no more. I will make a few inquiries and see if I can turn up anything pointing to her identity. Would that help?”
“Tremendously.”
“Consider it done,” Millicent said, giving his hand another squeeze before pulling away. “I will send word when I have something to report.”
Benedict cleared his throat, annoyed with himself for almost falling apart in front of her. It didn’t matter that she was part of the small circle of people he trusted. He had worked long and hard to turn himself into the man he was now—to cultivate strength and stoicism, and exercise control in everything he did. The scar at his temple served as a constant reminder of the night he had, in a sense, been reborn. He had stopped allowing things to happen to him and started shaping his own life as he saw fit. Uncompromising, he was often called. Relentless. Cold.
But those traits had saved him and seen him through the darkest times of his life. They would not fail him now.
Sitting up straight, he squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. The Gossip was nothing more than a bothersome fly, and he would have the last laugh once he had effectively swatted her away.
For the sake of the people he loved, the family he had formed not of blood but of a different sort of bond, he could not fail.
Chapter 1
“Rumor has it that the Honourable Mr. B—and I confer such a title on him out of formality, not because I actually believe him to be possessing of actual honor—has absconded with a certain runaway bride to Scotland. It is the least he can do after thoroughly destroying her previously unblemished reputation, not once but twice. Time will tell whether marriage might prove enough to tame one of London’s most notorious rakes.”
-The London Gossip,25 November 1819
