He’d challenge the reader to see who knew the most about food. It wouldn’t take long for him to put the man in his place. And once he had done that, the letters would no doubt cease, and he could go back to dealing with the problem of stealing business from his enemy.
“As soon as I have finished baking these scones, I’m going to go and paythe Morning Heralda visit. The editor is one of only three people, yourself included, who know I write for the paper. If he thinks a battle between me and a disgruntled reader will sell more copies ofthe Morning Herald, he will be on board with my plan.”
George snorted. “I almost pity the poor reader. Then again, he did bring it on himself.”
Robert dusted the flour from his fingers. His next column in the newspaper would be a declaration of war. After he was done, this self-important reader would rue the day he took on the Duke of Spice.
Chapter Ten
Victoria was seated at the breakfast table at Mowbray House several days later, quietly reading the morning paper, when a letter in the social pages caught her eye.
By the time she’d finished reading the piece, her hands were shaking. Rage simmered in her blood. It took all her willpower to slowly lower the newspaper and rest it gently on the table. She’d much rather have thrown it into the fireplace and let it burn.
The reviewer forthe Morning Heraldhad struck back. He had taken umbrage at her second letter, the one where she had said he should resign.
A response from our esteemed restaurant reviewer
A better man would admit that he doesn’t know enough about the culinary arts and retire from the field of battle. Though from your rather feeble attempts at tackling the important issue of what constitutes good food, I can only surmise that you are not that sort ofman. One hopes that your close friends are able to talk sense into you.
“Are you quite well?” asked Richard from his place further along the table. The expression on his face was one of guarded disquiet. He’d been paying court to his sister all morning. No doubt he had already burned through the money Victoria had given him on Thursday and was softening her up to ask for more.
Was she well? No, she was bloody furious.
I’ve a good mind to go down to Fleet Street and tell them…
She let out a slow, calming breath. What would she tell them? That she was the unwed daughter of a duke and thought she knew more about food than the gentleman the newspaper employed to write their culinary column. They’d laugh her straight out the front door.
And then someone would tell her parents.
But I can’t sit here and expect to keep my temper at bay.
Richard, along with the rest of the Kembal family members residing at Mowbray House, didn’t have a clue that Victoria was the mysterious gentleman who’d been sending letters tothe Morning Herald. She’d entrusted her missives to various household footmen who had then delivered them to the offices of the paper. With an extra coin in his hand, a footman had no reason to think anything more about the task other than where he was going to spend his sudden and unexpected windfall.
“Victoria?”
“No. I am not quite myself, thank you for asking, brother dearest. I think I should go back to bed.”
She rose from the table and snatched up the newspaper. Once her ire had calmed, she’d undertake her usual morning trip to the nearby German bakery and purchase her breakfast.
But first she was going to go back to her bedroom and pen a response to the dunderhead of a reviewer who thought he could bully his way into forcing her to stay silent.
No my good man. I am more than the better man. I am a woman, and I’ve only just got started. Whereas you are finished.
An educated reader defends himself.
I am disappointed but not entirely surprised that the restaurant reviewer for this esteemed newspaper has seen fit to attack me personally. One would think that a better man would address the issue of the review rather than casting aspersions on the character of a reader whose money pays his wages. Again I say it is time for the Morning Herald to look for a new restaurant reviewer.
A reader who will not be cowered.
Robert closed his eyes and sighed.Damn.This was not the sort of start to the day he needed.
He’d barely slept. A shipment of stolen East India spices had arrived at Tolley House just after four this morning, and he’d been up all night waiting by the back door, a loaded pistol in his hand, watching just in case any trouble might have followed the wagon to his home. The sun was already peeking over the horizon by the time he and George finished unloading the illicit goods and hiding them in the cellar.
A public slanging match with some ill-informed half-wit was not on his to-do-list for the day.
But if I don’t nip this thing in the bud, it will gain momentum.
And he would be out of his reviewer job before he could stop things. The weekly coin he got fromthe Morning Heraldwas nice. It kept him in quality brandy and the occasional cigar. But it was the publicity which his column gained for his clients that was the most important aspect of his newspaper career. Convincing tavern and restaurant owners to take a chance on his spice contracts was hard, but the lure of a review in a major London newspaper was an added sweeter to any deal he could offer them.
