Lord Gray's List (7 page)
Authors: Maggie Robinson
“Yes. I promise to meet you all in front of the newspaper office in”—Evie looked at Ben for help—“two hours?”
“I certainly think that will give us time to discuss these pressing press matters,” Ben quipped.
“I shall stay,” Fitzhugh said.
“You shall not,” Ben retorted, irritated. What was Evie doing with this overly familiar man? He was far too beautiful for his own good. In fact, he seemed the sort to prefer his own sex—
And then Ben smiled. Poor Fitzhugh, tricked by Evie’s snug breeches.
“It’s all right, Lord Fitzhugh. I’m not afraid of Lord Gray.”
You should be,
thought Ben, as he firmly closed the dining room door.
thought Ben, as he firmly closed the dining room door.
B
en pulled a chair out for her and Evangeline sat down glumly. This morning had been unexpectedly atrocious. She’d never dreamed that a crowd would begin to mill around
The London List
office before dawn, apprised of the regime change early by her crew of fleet-footed delivery boys. By eight o’clock the uproar and unrest was out of control. Worried what they might do, Evangeline had accompanied the group—which forcibly reminded her of torch and pitchfork-bearing Luddites, although their intent was not to destroy machinery but ensure its continued use. But she didn’t want harm to befall Ben, not really, so she’d tried to calm them down as best she could. When that glacial butler wouldn’t let her in with the self-appointed “representatives,” she’d howled in frustration.
en pulled a chair out for her and Evangeline sat down glumly. This morning had been unexpectedly atrocious. She’d never dreamed that a crowd would begin to mill around
The London List
office before dawn, apprised of the regime change early by her crew of fleet-footed delivery boys. By eight o’clock the uproar and unrest was out of control. Worried what they might do, Evangeline had accompanied the group—which forcibly reminded her of torch and pitchfork-bearing Luddites, although their intent was not to destroy machinery but ensure its continued use. But she didn’t want harm to befall Ben, not really, so she’d tried to calm them down as best she could. When that glacial butler wouldn’t let her in with the self-appointed “representatives,” she’d howled in frustration.
“I’ll ring for fresh coffee.”
“Don’t bother. I—I
am
sorry, Ben. I didn’t anticipate this reaction. But now that you’ve seen what the newspaper means to people, perhaps you will change your mind about discontinuing it.”
am
sorry, Ben. I didn’t anticipate this reaction. But now that you’ve seen what the newspaper means to people, perhaps you will change your mind about discontinuing it.”
Ben leaned back in his chair, looking like a delicious, disheveled large cat. His jaw was sprinkled with gilt stubble, and his fair hair curled in poet-like disarray. He was quite a contrast to Lord Fitzhugh, who fancied himself an actual poet. Fitzhugh’s offer to sponsor another newspaper had come as a shock, but Evangeline had jumped on it. Perhaps if Ben felt a bit threatened, he’d relent and let her run
The London List
for him. She’d put out the last issue entirely on her own, as that coward Frank Hallett had refused to help her. Ben had bribed him all too generously, Evangeline thought in disgust.
The London List
for him. She’d put out the last issue entirely on her own, as that coward Frank Hallett had refused to help her. Ben had bribed him all too generously, Evangeline thought in disgust.
She stared down at her hands, black with ink. She hadn’t had a chance to grab her gloves before the lynch mob had decided to storm Baron Gray’s castle. Her warm greatcoat was still hanging on its hook, too. All she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed—she’d been up the whole night through gentling her recalcitrant press to produce its final edition.
But perhaps not. Evangeline widened her dark eyes, then let her lashes drop, fluttering a bit at the end.
Any hope that she had harbored to somehow brazenly seduce the bastard over breakfast was dashed by a rapid knock at the door and the entrance of a plump, handsome older woman.
“I see the coast is relatively clear. I thought it best to remove myself from the fray, Benton. Is this young gentleman the previous owner of
The London List
? If so, I’m pleased to meet you, sir. You’ve given me an enormous amount of pleasure, even when you pilloried my poor son. Were it not for you, he might just be coming home from a misadventure on Jane Street.” Lady Gray extended a hand, and Evangeline wondered whether she was expected to kiss it. She had been forced in the past to perform such acts of politesse, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Reluctantly, Evangeline grasped the woman’s soft hand and shook it with more manly force than was necessary.
The London List
? If so, I’m pleased to meet you, sir. You’ve given me an enormous amount of pleasure, even when you pilloried my poor son. Were it not for you, he might just be coming home from a misadventure on Jane Street.” Lady Gray extended a hand, and Evangeline wondered whether she was expected to kiss it. She had been forced in the past to perform such acts of politesse, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Reluctantly, Evangeline grasped the woman’s soft hand and shook it with more manly force than was necessary.
“Good heavens!” Emily Gray’s blue eyes narrowed. She dropped Evangeline’s hand as if it scorched her. “Benton Gray, what is going on?”
“I’m being blackmailed by Ramsey here. I expect he’s going to organize a mob to parade in front of our house all day unless I put that damned newspaper back in business.”
“R-Ramsey?” Lady Gray stared at her with acute focus. Evangeline wanted to disappear down into her scarf, but instead examined a three-tined fork on the table before her. She felt the rough wool of her trousers chafe her thighs, and suddenly wished to be far, far away from Lady Emily Gray.
The woman looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead she dropped to a chair gracefully and turned to her son. “Benton, would you fetch me a muffin from the sideboard? All this excitement has depressed my appetite, but one has to eat to keep body and soul together.”
“Certainly, Mama.” Ben rose and selected a toasted muffin, then poured his mother a cup of coffee. Evangeline’s throat was suddenly dry, but she’d already refused his offer of sustenance. But coffee—she’d been up all night and was dead on her feet. Well, dead on her arse as she came under the speculative gaze of Ben’s mother.
“Ben, dear, fetch Mr. Ramsey some coffee, will you? He looks peaked.”
An understatement. Evangeline nodded gratefully and soon had a fragrant cup in front of her. She took a cautious sip, but the pot had cooled while the rabble roused. It was still warm, though, and tasted like ambrosia. Her stomach rumbled, but eggs were out of the question. The sooner she got away—
“So, what are we going to do?” Lady Gray asked brightly.
“
We
? Don’t trouble yourself, Mama. Mr. Ramsey and I will come to some sort of accommodation, I’m sure.”
We
? Don’t trouble yourself, Mama. Mr. Ramsey and I will come to some sort of accommodation, I’m sure.”
“I do hope so. Severson’s nerves are quite overset.” Lady Gray took a delicate bite of muffin.
“Severson’s a damned traitor.”
“Now, Ben. I advised him to allow a few of the petitioners in. They were attracting a great deal of curiosity from the neighbors, and it’s very cold out this morning besides. Do you think it might snow later, Mr. Ramsey?”
Evangeline was not even up to a sensible discussion of the weather. “I’m sure I couldn’t say,” she murmured.
“I do—did—enjoy your weekly weather predictions. So often inaccurate, but then we live in England and must be prepared for anything.” Lady Gray folded her napkin. “I shall leave you two to hammer out the details of the newspaper’s disposition. I don’t for a moment believe my son cheated your family, although you do write eloquently. It’s a gift. I’d put it to better use if I were you.”
Lady Gray stood. Ben did also, and Evangeline scrambled up to join him. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was impersonating a man—there were ever so many ridiculous rules and requirements. She still had not learned to spit properly.
When they were alone, Ben looked at her with the same sharp expression that his mother had trained upon her. “You’ve really done it now, Evie. What the hell are we to do?”
She straightened in her chair. “It’s obvious, Ben. Keep the newspaper running, at least until you can sell it to someone else. Lord Fitzhugh might be interested.”
“That’s not the only thing he’s interested in. I believe you have an admirer, Evie.”
“Nonsense. I’m quite sure he doesn’t know I’m really a woman. And he only likes me because I’ve published his execrable poetry without batting an eye. Any writer is a slave to praise, no matter how faint it is.”
Ben barked a laugh. “My mother’s right, you know. You do write well, even when you are accusing me of all sorts of things.”
“Not accusing! Just stating the facts.”
“Too persuasively. And not at all in a fair and balanced way.” He sighed heavily. “Water under the bridge. I thought we were done tormenting each other after last week. Why did you publish this last issue?”
“I had a responsibility to my readers. As you heard, if you yank the paper away, they’ll have nowhere to find their husbands and jobs and runaway wives.”
“One of the other papers in the city can step up. I’m surprised they haven’t been in competition with you already.”
Evangeline had worked very hard to ensure she had a loyal readership. Her advertising rates were the lowest—too low, sometimes even free if circumstances warranted it. So many of her readers did not have a penny to spare. It was the ton’s subscriptions that had kept
The London List
afloat, the greedy thirst of the aristocracy for the latest
on dit
and scandal broth that was never quite quenched. Ben might not know it, but articles about his escapades had provided most of the funds for Evangeline’s charitable impulses. There was a great deal to the newspaper that few suspected.
The London List
afloat, the greedy thirst of the aristocracy for the latest
on dit
and scandal broth that was never quite quenched. Ben might not know it, but articles about his escapades had provided most of the funds for Evangeline’s charitable impulses. There was a great deal to the newspaper that few suspected.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing like
The List
.”
The List
.”
“Yes, most papers have standards. Am I never to have peace? I’ve told you I’m reforming. I am going to a bloody Christmas ball with my
mother
tomorrow evening, curse it. Why can’t the Capshaws keep an abstemious Advent like good Christians?”
mother
tomorrow evening, curse it. Why can’t the Capshaws keep an abstemious Advent like good Christians?”
“This isn’t about you anymore, Ben. You were the marquee performance, but countless other people have a stake in this enterprise. Please reconsider your decision.”
“Because if I don’t, you’ll get that gang outside to make my life a daily misery!” Ben snapped.
Evangeline suppressed a grin. That was a very attractive thought, although the idea of standing around in the cold street all day long had little appeal. “Please think about it. I’ll go back to the office and let the people know you might change your mind. And I wonder if I might have my key back. My coat and gloves are inside.”
“I told you I’d go with you.”
“You’ll only become more aggravated when you don’t tell them what they want to hear and they pounce on you.”
Ben grimaced. “I’m sure I can hold my own if anyone dares to lay a finger on me.”
Evangeline didn’t doubt it. Ben’s strong, sinewed body was perfection, and she would never see it again. She pushed the little pang of regret away and pulled her scarf tighter.
“You can’t go out like that—you’ll freeze your cold heart. Let me get you one of my coats.”
“Really, I’m perfectly all right.”
“Just for once, Evie, show some sense and do as I ask. You’ve always been a little fool.”
“I am neither little nor a fool, my lord,” Evangeline said, struggling to keep her temper. “You can’t go ordering me about. You have no right. You’re not my husband. If you recall, I turned you down.”
“And praise God for it—if you were my wife I’d have been shipped off to Australia years ago for your murder.”
“As I said just days ago, I would never marry you under any circumstances.” Her courses had come, thank heavens, so there was no need to worry about finding herself with Ben’s bastard child.
“Too right you’ll never marry me, because I’ll never ask again. But I am offering you a coat, because, you silly chit, look out the window. It is snowing! You may think me a blackguard, but I don’t want your death on my hands unless I can get some actual enjoyment out of it.”
“I don’t want your bloody coat!”
“Severson!” For good measure, Ben yanked the bellpull from the wall.
The butler arrived immediately. Evangeline hoped he had not had one hairy ear pressed against the door. “You rang, my lord?”
“Get Mr. Ramsey one of my warmer coats and then show him out. Gloves and a hat, too. And I am not to be disturbed again for any reason today, damn it, no matter who comes to the door—orphans looking for their parents, dukes looking for dominatrixes. Am I understood?”
The butler’s face remained impassive. “Yes, my lord. Absolutely, my lord. This way, Mr. Ramsey.”
Evangeline shot Ben a look of loathing. “I’ll expect your answer by tomorrow morning, else I’ll have to take matters in my own hands.
Capable
hands.”
Capable
hands.”
“Filthy hands, you baggage. Now get out!” He threw her key at her and she caught it with one filthy hand.
“With the greatest of pleasure.” Lifting her imposing nose in the air, Evangeline left the blasted baron to stew in his own juices and found herself standing in his hallway closet. She had every confidence that he would see the error of his ways and be forced to deal with her, or she and her newly found minions would make his life hell.
Severson gave her a good long look, then pulled a soft gray wool coat from a hook and helped her into it. Evangeline couldn’t help but take an experimental sniff. Ben was not one to drown his body in expensive scent, but wearing his coat was like being in his arms, a trace of spicy masculinity lingering in the fabric. Despite her great height, Ben was so much larger everywhere, so the sleeves of the garment were too long. She stood obediently as Severson rolled up the cuffs. He clearly disapproved of the state of her hands and fished through a basket for a pair of fur-lined gloves. A high-crowned beaver hat finished off her ensemble, although it had a regrettable tendency to droop over her left eye. Ben’s head was bigger, too, not that he was so damned smart.
Perhaps she wasn’t being fair. Or balanced, she thought ruefully, stepping out into the snow–swirled street after refusing Severson’s offer to procure a hackney for her. Ben had books in his little library, after all. Lots of them. And he’d told her there was an even larger depository of books upstairs. Just because he preferred the company of whores and opera dancers did not mean that he was ignorant, just immature.
He was simply drifting through life, with no particular purpose. If he decided to become the publisher of
The London List,
he’d become aware of the inequities she saw every day.
The London List,
he’d become aware of the inequities she saw every day.
Evangeline had a republican streak, not that she wanted to haul out Madame Guillotine. She truly did believe the pen was mightier than the sword. Every time she had written about Ben or some other rakehell, she had hoped to shame them into reform and responsibility.
And it had worked with Ben, for the most part. He was going to a ball with his
mother
.
mother
.
Evangeline brushed a snowflake from her nose, breathing in leather and Ben. The closest she’d come to having him touch her again was wearing his clothes against her skin. She would not feel his hand on the small of her back, guiding her in a waltz in a glittering ballroom, not see his green eyes glint gold with admiration, not feel the press of his warm lips as they stole a kiss in a winter-frosted garden. But she
could
work for him if he discovered his conscience.
could
work for him if he discovered his conscience.
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