Page 124 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
“Oh please, no.” The plump little man was almost weeping. “I’ll give you the cursed letters, just leave my press alone.” He hurried into his office, opened the safe and pulled out a thick sheaf of letters tied with a ribbon. “Here—take them. And then leave.”
James flicked through the sheaf. “They’d better all be here, because if not...”
“They’re all there, I assure you, all that that wretched man sold me. It’s him you should be punishing, not me.”
“You’re both despicable,” James said coldly. He held up the leather-bound copy. “How many of these did you send out?”
Greene glanced at a piece of paper on his desk. “Twenty-five,” he said sulkily. “They cost a fortune, too.”
“That’s the list, is it? Good.” James picked it up, glanced at the list of names, and pocketed it, ignoring Greene’s protests.
He returned to the print room and held up the book to the watching workers. “There is a large black carriage waiting in the lane outside. Sixpence for every box of these books that you load into it. My coachman is expecting you—he will keep tally and pay you.”
The workers glanced at one another, then rushed to grab boxes of books and carry them downstairs. In minutes not a single box or book remained. James glanced around the room and gave a satisfied nod. He turned to Greene and held out a ten-pound note.
Greene eyed it suspiciously. “What’s that for?”
“To pay for the books, of course,” James said in a bland voice.
“You’re paying me for them?” he said incredulously.
James arched an eyebrow. “Naturally. I’m not a thief.”
Greene glanced at the shambles that was his printing works. But he didn’t utter a word.
“Did you have enough money?” James asked his coachman when he went downstairs.
“Yes, m’lord. With three and six left over.”
“Keep it.”
James and Gerald fitted themselves in around the boxes of books. “That was fun,” Gerald said as they drove off. “Filthy work, though. Ruined my gloves.” He pulled his ink-stained gloves off and tossed them out of the window. “Probably wrecked my boots, too, but it was worth it.” After a moment he added, “Lucky your coachman had enough change on him.”
James gave him a sideways glance. “Luck never came into it. You should know from your years in the army that preparation is all.”
“Of course. Clever.” After a moment Gerald asked, “What will you do with all these books?”
“Burn ’em.”
They drove in silence for a while. “You don’t look as happy as I expected,” Gerald said. “I thought it went quite well.”
James shook his head. “These damned leather-bound copies are still out there.”
“Oh hell, I never thought of that. How many do you think went out?”
“Twenty-four, not counting your mother’s copy. I got the list from Greene while you were busy smashing things.”
***
You can’t be sure that’s what they were whispering about,” Lucy insisted. She and Alice had returned from seeing Miss Chance. Alice had found the experience uncomfortable. The minute they’d arrived, two ladies in the shop had fallen silent. Then they’d started whispering, glancing at Alice from time to time as they did.
Miss Chance had taken her and Lucy into the back for aprivate consultation, and when they returned, all the other ladies in the shop were covertly staring at Alice, some with expressions of sympathy, others with ill-disguised salacious glee. It was obvious to her that they knew about the letters.
“I think we can assume that it was,” Alice said. “Gossip travels like wildfire.”
Tweed was hovering, looking concerned. He didn’t know quite what was up, but he could tell she wasn’t herself. Alice ordered tea and biscuits.
Lucy frowned. “What are we going to do about the Reynolds’s ball tomorrow night?”
