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Authors: Maggie Robinson

BOOK: Lord Gray's List
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There were snorts and more laughter. “At least Ramsey here won’t be writing about it on the front page unless he wants to hang,” someone chuckled.
“Oh, dear. I’m afraid you’re about to be judged somewhat harshly, Lord Dustin.”
“And that’s not all.” The director of Dustin’s bank stepped forward. “You owe us a great deal of money. I’ve decided, sir, that you are a risk we simply cannot afford. I’ll expect payment in full by Monday morning or we’ll see you in the Fleet.” The other creditors added to his demand.
Dustin gulped and gasped. Everything he said was met with ridicule, and Evangeline could almost feel sorry for him except for his vile taste on her tongue.
“I’m afraid the party’s over. Veronique, would you see these gentlemen to the door? Perhaps I can be of some help to Lord Dustin. I do feel responsible somehow. Ramsey, I am disappointed in you, but we’ll discuss it later. Now, Dustin—”
Ben threw an arm around Dustin and led the man into a corner of Veronique’s red parlor. Evangeline grabbed the wig and her fur-lined cloak by the door and stepped onto the pavement before the other guests could corner
her
. Ben’s coachman was waiting at the end of the street, chatting with the sentry that was posted in the evening to keep Jane Street’s secrets. Tonight was one scandal that was bound to escape.
“His lordship said to take you straight to his house, Mr. Ramsey. But it really is Miss Ramsey, ain’t it? You’re wearing a dress and all even if your hair’s funny.”
Evangeline wasn’t really sure who she was supposed to be at the moment, so she just nodded and climbed into the carriage.
She hadn’t expected to be deposited at Ben’s house, but was greeted formally by Severson, who received her as if she didn’t resemble a confused courtesan.
“My lord has arranged for a bath here for you, Mr.—Miss Ramsey. Really,” he said, sounding almost hurt, “if he had confided in me earlier about your subterfuge it would have saved all of us concern. The staff was wondering, you know. Lord Gray has not been himself lately.”
“And that’s a good thing, is it not?”
“Well, I suppose it is. This way—but you do know where his lordship’s bedroom is, don’t you?”
Evangeline blushed. She certainly did.
It was heaven to sink into hot water and scrub off the paint and perfume that Veronique and the girls had insisted upon. Being a courtesan was time-consuming work, even out of bed.
When she had washed away all traces of Lord Dustin, she put the glimmering blue dress back on for lack of any other proper attire. It did not fit half so well since her padding was now wound up on a chair. Severson had left wine by the fireside, so she took a glass, wondering how long it would take Ben to convince Dustin to run away.
Not long. She heard him whistling up the stairs and swallowed the last of the glass.
“Well done, Evangeline!” Ben was windblown and grinning from ear to ear.
“There was no trouble?”
“Lord, no. The man is leaving London at first light. How convenient I had a ticket in my pocket for passage on
The Star of the East
.” He poured himself a glass and sat down on the chair opposite.
“And he didn’t suspect?”
“He might have, but what could he do about it? They’ll be talking about him for years. He knows he can’t show himself in society. And I promised to pay his debts in full.”
It was Evangeline’s turn to whistle. “What about Lady Dustin?”
“Ah.” Ben took a sip and set the glass down. “I had to pretend I knew absolutely nothing about Lady Dustin. He never even mentioned her. It was up to me to ask if he had anyone I needed to notify for him. He remembered her and his son as an afterthought.”
“The beast.”
“Aye, he is that. But by spring Lady Dustin can return to London. I’ll clear out the house of her troublesome servants. I expect you can find me a fresh batch?”
“You can find them yourself, Ben. I have to leave the newspaper—on your orders.”
“Evelyn does. But not Evangeline.”
“What?” She’d had only the one glass of wine.
“You can’t leave yet, Evie. If you put on a wig you can come into the office in skirts, looking for your brother. I’m going to take pity on you and hire you for a while. Take pity on
me
. I’m not ready to run the paper by myself yet.”
“Oh, Ben—”
“Not a word. Not tonight. You were magnificent, Evie, and I want to celebrate.” His eyes went to the tangle of blond hair that lay across her rolls of padding.
She could pretend to be Evelyn—a
female
Evelyn. She’d better slap the wig on her head before her good sense caught up to her.
January 14, 1821
 
H
is plan was brilliant. Bound to succeed. And so he told himself every step of the way to
The London List
office as distant church bells chimed.
Ben walked at a brisk pace, both out of the need to escape the cold and to get this declaration over with. He was not ordinarily a coward—any of his friends would vouch for him as being the staunchest of fellows, heedless of risks and reputation. He had climbed buildings to enter bedrooms and chased runaway carriages before they toppled down cliffs. Well, just one carriage, but the effort had been intense and the carriage’s owner had been grateful enough to him to let him enter her bedroom without climbing. He has assisted an abused wife and child by offering them shelter under his very own roof, risking the wrath of not only her husband but all of society. He had engineered the destruction of her husband and celebrated that fact with a few hours of unsurpassed sexual pleasure with Evangeline in his very own bedroom, servants be damned.
How hard could a proposal be? True, he’d done it once before, but the humiliation of rejection had blotted out his memory more or less over the years. Ben wasn’t going to get down on one knee as before, so Evie could glare at him down her long nose, or even kick him away. She was capable of anything. He wasn’t going to try to flatter her with romantic muck, for a woman like Evie didn’t have an ounce of romance when it came to him.
But she was softhearted toward all the poor unfortunates who implored her daily to solve their problems. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t left his employ yet. Those warmer feelings were the key to getting her locked up into his arms for eternity—or for as long as he could keep her abed. He wasn’t entirely convinced she would agree to all his terms, but surely she wouldn’t expect him to be celibate in their marriage. She might not like him, but she did seem to like fucking him, and that was a start of some sort, wasn’t it?
Gad, but he was an idiot. Why did he want her? He really couldn’t say, except he’d wanted no one else but her ever since he was a boy, despite cutting a wide swath through the demimonde. He wouldn’t lie and say he’d never enjoyed himself, but sex with Evie was singular. If anything, the intensity had quadrupled as they moved into their middle age. Perhaps it was Ben’s last gasp of virility. Whatever it was, his mouth dried and his cock stiffened at the sight of her in her outrageous breeches.
People had made marriages built on lesser foundations. And he was prepared to sweeten the deal—to make her an offer she couldn’t possibly refuse.
The office was still dark. Ben felt some triumph for dragging himself out of bed before Evie. She must be every bit as exhausted as he from their night of passion. This undercover work added a dash of danger to their relationship, which acted like an aphrodisiac. Ben could only thank Lord Dustin for being such a scoundrel.
But first things first. He pulled his mother’s ring out of his pocket. The emerald was obscenely large, and the diamonds surrounding it were not insignificant. He tried to picture it on Evie’s grubby hand—even though Joseph and Matthew did most of the work now, Evie still managed to get into the thick of everything. She’d never be a conventional wife, and that was fine, for Ben found most conventions rather strangling.
His mother would be happy. She’d liked
Mr.
Ramsey, so it shouldn’t be a stretch to get her to like Miss Ramsey as well. She always asked about his “colleague,” approving of the change wrought over Ben now that he’d gotten serious about business. It was nearly annoying—Ben had been serious about his investments for years, but hadn’t dived into ditches or descended into mines personally before. Apparently all it took was a little dirt under his fingernails to get his mother’s respect.
He was perfectly clean now. His cravat was crisp, his tawny leonine hair tamed. If Evie didn’t interrupt him, Ben had every hope of reciting his lines with dignity.
He didn’t have long to wait. Evie was nothing if not punctual. Responsible. That was what he was counting on.
She blushed when she entered the door and saw him, probably remembering what she’d done with him a scant few hours ago. Their New Year’s deal seemed definitively broken. She had come in her gentleman’s garb, out of habit, no doubt.
“You’re here early,” she said gruffly, shrugging out of her greatcoat.
“I’ve told you time and again that I’m a reformed man.”
“Words are cheap, as you once said.”
“Not yours, Evie. They’ve cost me a pretty penny now, haven’t they? Your salary is astronomical. But surely my actions speak for themselves. An observant reporter such as yourself must note the dramatic change in my character.”
“Hm,” she said, damnably noncommittal. Perhaps if he rescued orphans from a burning building she might see him with new eyes, but setting fire to property was a criminal offense, not to mention causing worry to the poor children was not at all cricket.
She sat at her desk—he still thought of it as hers although he’d propped his feet up often enough on it—and rifled through a stack of correspondence. He rounded the corner and put his hand down firmly on hers.
“The letters can wait.”
“Are you mad? There are not enough hours in the day to sort all these out, and we have a deadline. I’ve yet to write something up about the Dustin affair. It will be discreet, don’t worry, just that he’s off to India for a change of scenery. And I—I must leave soon. You’ve fired me.”
“I’ve hired Evangeline.”
“You know I cannot stay on after—” She blushed. She remembered as well as he did. It had been hell keeping his hands off her since New Year’s, but last night had been worth the drought. She had been exquisite, flush with triumph and very brazen in the blond wig. “You’ve taken me from my business far too much this week.”
“
Our
business. Besides, it’s Sunday. A day of rest.”
“Not for me! Joseph and Matthew may not work today, but they’ll expect the dummy to be ready and I haven’t even written the lead.”
She was her usually prickly hedgehog self. How to soothe her without feeling the sting of her bristles?
“I have a proposition for you—one that will eliminate your constant fear that some need will go unmet.”
“Oh? And what is that? I grant you’ve been adequate in your assistance, but do you have a secret twin like I apparently do to share the load?”
“Better than a twin. And I’d never willingly share you with anyone, Evie.”
She turned scarlet. “Oh! You are a devil.”
“I suppose, but as I’ve said, I’m working on my wings. Can’t you spare me a moment?” He squeezed her hand, which he was surprised to realize was still in his.
“Oh, very well. Make it quick.”
“Now, Evie,” he chided, “many things can be said about me, but I’m never quick.”
He heard her say the words
impossible
and
arrogant
but he chose to ignore them.
“I want to talk to you about your father’s house in Scotland.”
Her dark brows knit. “The house in Argyll? It’s virtually uninhabitable. I won’t go back there—you can’t make me!”
“No one said anything about you leaving London. The paper would fold without your expertise, especially now that we plan more issues per week. But I was thinking that the house might make a satisfactory accommodation for your strays once it was fixed up.”
She stared up at him blankly.
“You know, all those people there in that pile who have no proper home or livelihood.” He gestured to the letters on her desk. “Like that old gent in Wales who needed a housekeeper or nurse but couldn’t pay much. Imagine if he was in a home with other old fellows and there were plenty of housekeepers and nurses to keep track of everyone.”
“I—I found him someone suitable.”
“Did you? Jolly good. But there must be others whose ads go answered.”
She nodded. “Yes, lots. I’m not a miracle worker.”
He cupped her cheek. “Ah, but you are. Look at the changes you’ve wrought in me.”
Her lashes fluttered and at first he thought he’d gotten through to her. But then she spoke.
“Really, Ben, get to the point. I don’t have all day for your flummery.”
“I am prepared to make the necessary modifications to the house in Scotland to accommodate a whole host of needy people, including your father. Orphans, too. We could establish a school. An all-purpose charity home, if you will. As I recall the house is as big as a palace, and there were endless outbuildings, weren’t there? There will be round-the-clock staff gleaned from the employment files—you would pick only the most experienced, competent people. And the neediest potential residents. I’d pay the salaries and of course collect no rent from the guests. There would always be a place for those who needed one. Lady Dustin’s dilemma has inspired me—I can’t stash people in Castle Gray indefinitely. There’s just one caveat.”
Evie was looking at him as if he’d grown two heads—his secret twin must be somewhere about. Her lovely mouth was open but she did not speak.
“Don’t you want to know my price?”
She rose from the desk, toppling the chair in her fury. “Just because I forgot myself last night in the thrill of our success—I have told you time and time again I will not be your Jane Street mistress, you horrible man!”
Ben took a step backward. “I don’t want you to be my mistress, you irritating woman! I want you to be my wife!”
Not the most tactful proposal, but there it was. The words hung in the air. Evie sank slowly down, forgetting the chair was no longer beneath her. She landed in an indelicate heap, saved from total exposure by her trousers. Damn it.
Ben rounded the desk and hauled her to her feet. She was as supple as a willow branch, swaying on unsteady legs.
“Pardon me?” she croaked.
He set her on the edge of the desk. “I’m asking you to marry me. I realize this is not the most romantic proposal in the world, but you are a practical woman. I’m not going to waste my time trying to turn your head with pretty words and flummery, as you call it. I know you are not totally averse to me—you were crying my name in the middle of the night, after all. Shrieking, really. Loud enough to wake the dead. There is a bond between us, odd and annoying as it may seem to you. And to me, for that matter. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. I need a wife and you might as well be it. I will be faithful, if you are worried. You are more than enough woman for me.” She always had been.
Evie closed her black eyes. “Explain this to me again.”
“It’s a sop to my conscience, really. I can make a contribution to society after my years of negligence. Kill all the birds that worry you so with one stone. You’ll have a safe place for your father, although if you want him to live with us, I would of course accede to your wishes. I think you might be happier, though, if you didn’t have to watch him decline. I know that he doesn’t recognize you now. Or anyone. Mrs. Spencer told me. If you agree to marry me, I’ll have an army of carpenters in Argyll before the week is out. I think we could open up the home by late spring. My man of business says half the roof is sound, which is one small mercy.”
“Your man of business?” Evie asked faintly.
“I sent him to Scotland right before Christmas, remember? There was some trifling matter to be settled on my estate and it seemed convenient for him to inquire after your father’s property while he was there. He was not particularly pleased with me, I can tell you. Snow. Ice. The usual winter inconvenience. Even the Hogmanay celebration was a disappointment to him. He broke a tooth on a black bun, poor devil. I had to increase his wages. But I’m blessed with more money than I know what to do with. There’s enough to repair Ramsey Hall and keep quite a crowd fed and comfortable and cared for there for years.”
“You really want to marry me?” Evie still sounded dazed, which was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“I do. We’ve gotten along well enough as we’ve put out the paper, wouldn’t you say? I mean, apart from the fighting. I don’t suppose we’ll ever stop our endless bickering, but I can live with it. And if you’re amenable, a child or two would make my mother happy.”
Evie picked up an inkpot and rolled it between her hands. Ben hoped she was not going to aim it at his head. If he recalled the incident with the smashed teapot, she had an excellent arm. “Let me see if I understand you. You call me a harpy, and want children to please your
mother.
You think I can be bribed by appealing to my sense of social justice to spend the rest of my life at your beck and call.”
“Just so. Except I wouldn’t expect you to be much good at the becking and the calling. I know you too well. And please put that down. You’re making me nervous.”
Evie dropped the pot to the floor, where it shattered. Ben stepped away from the glass slivers and spreading puddle. Good for the floorboards that it had been almost empty. “There’s no need for destruction of property, Evie. Let’s be sensible adults about this thing. You’ll have whatever you need to make you happy. Be a baroness. Just say yes.”

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