Page 42 of Making of a Scandal
Nick gave his uncle a quizzical look. “You weren’t even there, old man!”
His uncle shrugged. “Everyone’s talking about it. That London Gossip woman even wrote about it in her column.”
Nick hadn’t been aware of that, but then, he didn’t subscribe to that insipid scandal sheet. Benedict kept abreast of the latest news from London’s notoriously anonymous gossip writer, but only because she had once alluded to the knowledge of the existence of male courtesans in London. After a few months had passed without the woman revealing anything else of substance, Nick had mostly pushed the column and its author out of his mind.
The carriage came to a halt at their first stop of the day—a pawn broker with whom Nick had a bit of unsavory business to conduct. Patting his breast pocket, he found he hadn’t forgotten the funds needed to pay the principal and interest on a loan he’d taken on a ruby tiepin, and a gold and diamond pocket watch.
He’d turned to pawnbrokers often in the years before the Gentleman Courtesans had saved him from facing debtor’s prison. Benedict had been incensed to learn that he’d had to make use of the undesirable establishment again a few months ago, when a few unfortunate turns of dice and cards had emptied his accounts. Now that he was flush again, he could pay to get his things back. With Benedict controlling his purse strings a bit, and a strong-willed effort to stay far away from the hells, he might never return.
“I’ll be back shortly,” he informed his companions as the footman opened the door for him.
They waved him off as he stepped onto the street. Pushing open the door to the broker’s establishment, he squinted at the change from the afternoon light outdoors to the dim interior. He moved slowly while his eyes adjusted, approaching a rough wooden counter where Mr. Gould, the broker, was busy seeing to a blond man who waited for him to finish inspecting an array of costly-looking baubles. From where he stood, Nick identified a collection of jeweled tiepins, a sapphire ring, and a an ornate snuffbox.
Nick lingered near the middle of the shop to wait his turn, eyes narrowed as he realized the man had a familiar air about him. Curiosity propelled him forward and he craned his neck to try to get a better look at the stranger.
“This is preposterous!” the man railed, pounding a fist against the counter. “Surely even a man of your station can see that these are easily worth twice what you are offering, and at such a ridiculous interest rate besides!”
Nick knew that voice. His interest in the encounter had just been piqued.
Mr. Gould merely straightened, lowering a round jeweler’s loupe from his eye. “My assessment is a fair one, as is the interest. Need I remind you that you are in need of my assistance, and that no broker in London will offer you such a fair price?”
Mr. Martin Lewes was beyond hearing the man. Swiping his things up from the counter with a noisy clank, he whirled to take his leave.
“I think I’d rather take my chances with theotherscheming, thieving—”
He drew up short as he recognized Nick, eyes going so wide the whites flashed bright in the dim light. Nick raised an eyebrow and bowed.
“Lewes, what an unexpected surprise, seeing you here.”
The man’s face reddened to the shade of an apple, his throat working as he seemed to try to overcome his sudden embarrassment.
“Mr. Burke,” he snapped.
For the first time since meeting Lewes, Nick recognized the signs of a man living above his means. While his clothing was well made and of high quality, his boots were worn, and his waistcoat was a color that had been in fashion two years prior. The next time he would encounter Lewes in the evening, he was sure to notice the absence of jewelry or any other opulent adornments, as most of them would likely have been sold.
It would seem the man was as desperate as Nick had been, pawning his finery in order to make it a few more months.
What then? Did Lewes somehow have an inkling of the amount of Calliope’s inheritance? While she’d said her wealth wasn’t widely known, a cunning man need only take notice of her contributions to the London Home for the Care of Foundling Children to realize she was well-off. For some reason, knowing he might be after Calliope’s fortune rankled, despite the fact the majority of theton’smarriages were made for the purpose of money, connections, and power. Calliope wasn’t a high-standing lady of the nobility, but she was wealthy and had a viscount for a father and an earl for a brother-in-law. It was enough to tempt a man like Lewes, who had yet to inherit and might not for years to come.
Lewes seemed to have recovered from the shock of being seen in a pawn broker’s shop, and gave Nick a knowing look. “Having heard of your love for the gaming tables, I must say I’m not actually surprised to encounteryouhere.”
“And yet, I am the one who is here to retrieve his belongings rather than sell them. Stroke of bad luck?”
Lewes’s face deepened in color until it was nearly purple. Before he could offer a retort, Mr. Gould called out from behind the counter.
“Mr. Lewes, wait!”
After giving Nick a murderous look, Lewes turned back to the counter. He and the broker spoke in hushed tones, and Nick heard snatches of what sounded like a renegotiation.
“It’s the best I can do,” Gould said, giving Lewes a sympathetic look.
With a sigh, Lewes laid his bits and bobs back on the counter with a defeated nod. “Very well.”
They completed their transaction, and Nick passed the other man on his way to the counter. Lewes glared at Nick, jaw working as if he chewed on the words he wanted to let loose. He made his exit, and Nick turned his attention to his own business.
Yet again, he was struck by the notion that Calliope was prepared to marry a man she hardly knew anything about. It shouldn’t bother him, when many newly-wedded couples of thebeau mondewent into their marriages practically ignorant of one another. It was none of his affair.
Only, it had become his business the moment he’d decided to pursue Calliope for himself. It disturbed him to think of her having to dim her brilliance to snare a man as undeserving as Martin Lewes.
