Page 62 of Chasing Benedict
Voices raised in a clamor, many cursing the elusive gossip columnist, others whispering to one another as if to protect their secrets.
Alex raised his voice to be heard above the din. “Please! Remain calm and hear me. As one with a vested interest in the end of that vicious scandal sheet, I have decided that it is time to take action. I know there are others, but my investigation of recent columns has revealed to me that each of you has been slandered by this woman’s pen. Together, we are influential enough to put an end to her reign.”
“How?” asked one of the barons, one who Benedict knew had three mistresses stashed throughout London, out of view of his wife. “No one knows who she is.”
Alex met Ben’s gaze and winked, seeming to enjoy his place as the center of attention. “My lord, before I address your question, I must introduce the guest of honor. Hodge, please show her in.”
The butler moved to open the door to the antechamber, standing aside as a woman thundered through, hands planted on her hips. It was Cynthia Milbank, dressed to the nines and fuming.
“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed, descending on Alex with an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “You invite me here, and then proceed to lock me in that room and leave me to languish?”
Alex took gentle hold of Cynthia’s arm, turning her to face the other guests. Benedict stifled a chuckle as her roughed mouth parted into a circle of shock. In her anger, she hadn’t even noticed that the others had been seated for dinner. She met Benedict’s gaze, and he couldn’t resist taunting her with a little wave.
“Miss Milbank, I do apologize for the wait,” Alex crooned. “But I had to ensure that everything was in readiness for your big entrance. You see, all these people have gathered here to meet you.”
Cynthia’s sharp gaze pierced Alex, her diminutive height doing nothing to decrease her presence. She whispered something that Benedict couldn’t hear, but whatever it was made Alex laugh.
“All will be revealed in time, Miss Milbank. Please, sit here at the head of the table. I saved this seat just for you.”
By now, some of the guests had caught on to what Alex was about to reveal. Their spiteful glances in Cynthia’s direction spoke volumes, though no one seemed to want to interrupt Alex. With footmen stationed at every door leading from the room, and the eyes of the nobility upon her, Cynthia had no choice but to sit.
“Now,” Alex said, hands braced on the back of Cynthia’s chair. “My lords and ladies, may I present to you Cynthia Milbank … the infamous London Gossip herself.”
The philandering baron was on his feet, spittle flying as he raged at Cynthia. “You scheming little tart! You … you unconscionable snake!”
“I second that,” drawled the Earl of Hartmoor from his place at Benedict’s left side. The man was known for his Scottish brogue and a head of hair that trailed down his back—as well as a slew of scandalous acts that had led to him being dubbed ‘Hartless’. No one dared speak the insult to his face. “My name has appeared in your pitiful little column one too many times. Even if it was well-deserved.”
A few nervous laughs went up, but most of the guests seemed paralyzed by this news. Benedict was enthralled, now completely invested in watching the spectacle play out. His father looked as if he wanted to stand and pummel Alex with his fists—which Benedict wouldn’t take sitting down. If Alex wanted a spectacle, Benedict was ready to oblige him.
“You have no proof,” Cynthia blustered, head held high. “This is an outrageous accusation. I should have you prosecuted for defamation!”
“And every man in this room will return the favor by seeing you imprisoned for libel,” Alex shot back. “Sit down, Miss Milbank!”
Cynthia had been halfway out of her chair, but Alex’s raised voice startled her back onto her backside. She was practically snorting with rage, shoulders heaving as she speared Benedict with a murderous gaze. “You’re behind this, I know it.”
Before Benedict could reply, Alex chimed in. “Oh, Mr. Sterling had no idea what I had planned for this evening. I invited him because out of every person in this room, his is the name you have dragged most thoroughly through the mud. He deserves a seat at this table as much as the rest of us.”
“Hear, hear!” David called out, raising his glass.
“Now,” Alex continued. “As to your assertion that I have no proof … Hodge, please show Mr. Lyons in.”
The door to the corridor was opened by a footman, and Warin Lyons stepped through. In his hands, he carried several sheaves of documents. With an acknowledging nod at Benedict, he silently began making his way around the room, offering everyone a bundle of papers. He saved Benedict for last, his stoic face belying the amusement in his eyes.
“Mr. Sterling,” he murmured as he dropped a sheaf before Benedict. “Consider this my thanks for all you’ve done for me.”
Benedict stared down at the papers as Lyons melted into a corner of the dining room, stunned by what he found. He and the others flipped through the pages as Alex spoke.
“Each of you has been given a different collection of documents, which you should feel free to pass around to peruse. But what you will find are records of payments made from Miss Milbank to a printer in Whitechapel and one in Marylebone—both responsible for producing the copies ofThe London Gossipthat are distributed through the city and beyond. There are also written accounts of the lords who have been extorted of funds to escape being skewered in Miss Milbank’s column—signed before witnesses. I would like to thank Mr. Graham, Mr. Burke, and Mr. Radcliffe for collecting these statements and acting as those witnesses. Each statement has been paired with banking records that show the deposit of funds for every man who caved to Miss Milbank’s outrageous demands.”
One of the earls slammed a fist atop his set of documents, nostrils flared and eyes wide with fury as he stared at Cynthia. “I want her tried and punished for her crimes! Slander! Extortion! Blackmail! This cannot be allowed to stand!”
A few voices raised in agreement, the baron with three mistresses the loudest of all. Another man seated beside Benedict’s father came to his feet, bringing the entire room to a standstill.
Camden Rycroft, His Grace the Duke of Avonleah, had remained silent through the entire meeting, his sharp blue gaze missing nothing. That everyone quieted when he stood was a testament to his well-earned position as one of the most powerful peers of the realm.
“I agree, my lord, it cannot stand,” he said. “However, I must remind you all that a public trial will bring our scandals to light. Some of us have secrets that are more dangerous than the others, and we still have not uncovered the extent of what else she is privy to.”
“Quite right, Your Grace,” Alex replied. “Which is why I will appreciate the help of yourself and everyone here to ensure that the poison of this woman’s vitriol spreads no further. In the process, we will preserve our reputations and keep our secrets.”
