Page 41 of The Rakehell's Seduction
She gazed at the window, bleary-eyed and exhausted. She decided upon one thing. She was not going to stay in London. She had faced the worst of it. And now she would go home to the only place she’d ever belonged.
Love be damned.
*****
Ambrose Worthing stood on the front steps of a townhouse on Curzon Street, his hat in his hands as he lifted the knocker and let it drop against the wood. His heart was racing, but that was to be expected. He was about to meet one of the most infamous women in London. The enigmatic Lady Society, the author of the society column in theQuizzing Glass Gazette.Lady Society had been penning the most explosive exposés on London society for the last few years. She was ruthless, but she was always true. And he was hoping she could help him—or rather, help Alex.
It had been Vaughan’s idea after watching Alex suffer in Hyde Park a week before when she’d faced the sister of the man who’d ruined her over jealousy. She’d fled London and returned home to Lothbrook. Theton’s murmurings had been like a hive of bees for the seven days that followed.
Lord Rockford’s daughter’s name had been on everyone’s lips. And it was time they faced the truth. A good, innocent woman had been ruined because of the greed and jealousies of theton. It was a disgrace, and Ambrose was ashamed of being a part of it. But that was going to change, and he was going to give Alex the justice she deserved.
The day after Alex left him brokenhearted and defeated in the park, he began to fall apart, and only Vaughn had gotten him out of his dark tailspin. He suggested Ambrose make an appeal to the one woman society would listen to. So he had to do some investigating, and it had cost him a bit of coin to convince the printer for theGazetteto tell him where the columns came from, which led him to a small boy in a bit of a questionable dive. He tracked down two more people, a baker, a modiste, and finally he got to this address. The house on Curzon Street. Of course he hadn’t been given a name or a promise—just an address. And even that address he’d only gained after the modiste had him write a letter to be given to Lady Society about his request. The letter from Lady Society came the next day—apparently he’d written the right things—along with instructions to come to this address and bring the letter as proof he was who he said he was.
He wasn’t familiar with the man who owned the townhouse on Curzon Street, but he’d known of him. It belonged to a viscount only a few years older than himself. Ambrose was certain that the man was not Lady Society, which begged the question of just whom he would be meeting with.
The door opened, and a young man with reddish hair and brown eyes answered.
“Yes sir, may I help you?” His voice lilted with an Irish accent.
“I wish to speak with the woman who gave me this letter. She advised I give it to the man who answered the door when I arrived.”
Ambrose held out the letter and the man accepted it, his eyes running keenly over the words, and then he stared at Ambrose.
“Come inside and wait.” He let Ambrose follow him inside, and then he disappeared into a room upstairs. Ambrose studied the fine furnishings of the townhouse, from the gleaming banister to the satin-lined walls and exquisite paintings. There was a portrait of a handsome young man and a dark-haired woman together. The man’s laughing eyes and the woman’s indulgent smile seemed so intimate that it made Ambrose’s chest tighten. He and Alex might never have a portrait like that made with each other. Lord, he wanted that future with her more than anything in the world. He leaned in closer to the portrait, wondering if the woman was Lady Society. If so, she was clearly married.
The man reappeared at the top of the stairs and waved Ambrose to join him.
“The lady will see you now.” The man opened the door to the drawing room.
His stomach flipped with a rush of nerves. This woman, whoever she was, could bring the wrath of thetondown on him with her pen, or she could save Alex. Ambrose entered a well-lit room with pink damask drapes parted to let the daylight in. A hint of roses filled the air, and he noticed several vases of freshly cut blooms adorning the tables and sideboards. There was no sign of the dark-haired woman from the portrait downstairs; instead, he was startled to find a young woman who couldn’t be more than twenty-two seated in a chair. She wore a white muslin gown with flowers embroidered on the hem, and her light-brown hair was pulled up in a loose tumble of curls. She was lovely in a subtle way. In the far corner, another woman sat demurely in a chair, in a pale light-gray gown with no decoration, her hair in a simple chignon as she sewed patiently on a bit of cloth. She was obviously a lady’s maid. The young woman did not look up from her needlework.
“Mr. Worthing, please sit down,” the lady said and waved to the chair opposite her. A delicate table sat between them, and the red-haired man set a tray of tea upon it.
“Thank you, Sean,” the lady said before he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Ambrose took a seat and watched the lady pour tea and offer him a cup. He wasn’t in the mood, but he didn’t think it would be wise to refuse Lady Society’s hospitality. So he accepted his cup and sipped, waiting for what, he wasn’t exactly sure.
“I read your letter, of course, and I understand you wish to have my help?”
“Er…yes, for Lady Alexandra.”
She smiled. “Indeed. Lady Alexandra has been quite the subject of gossip these last two weeks. As I’m sure you know, I do not repeat tales of that nature in my column. Women have enough to deal with in society these days that we do not need to tear each other apart in smear campaigns,” Lady Society said.
“Yes, exactly,” Ambrose rushed to agree.
“So tell me, Mr. Worthing, why should I champion Lady Alexandra’s cause and fight the stories of her ruination? If talk is to be believed, she has been ruined…in Lord Darlington’s house…in bed…withyou.” The lady drew out each of the words, punctuating them delicately as she watched him intently.
Ambrose looked down at his cup of tea, trying to hold himself back from growling in frustration at the entire situation.
“It is true that she was in Darlington’s townhouse with me, but that isn’t the whole story. My lady…” He paused and then sought the words that would sway her. “Lady Alexandra is the finest woman I have ever met. What happened to her wasn’t justice. It was a plot constructed by a man who wanted to do her harm to please his selfish sister. It is a long tale, but I believe you must hear it. Only then will you be able to judge whether my mission to save her reputation is a noble one.”
Lady Society was silent for a long while. The only sound was a little mutter from the lady’s maid when she pricked her finger. The soft little disturbance made Lady Society speak.
“Very well, tell me this tale, Mr. Worthing. Leave no detail out.”
With a sigh and another sip of his tea, Ambrose began speaking.
“I am no gentleman, but that night at White’s when I learned of a man named Gerald Langley’s wager to have Lady Alexandra publicly ruined, I had to intervene…”
