He read it. The room waited.
It has come to this author’s attention that the Duke of T. and his intended, Lady L. R., were observed retiring from a ball at Thornwaite Hall under most irregular circumstances. The pair were absent from the festivities for a considerable period, and upon their return, Lady L. R. appeared in a state of notable dishevelment.
One must wonder what business a young lady of supposedly good breeding conducts in the dark corners of a Duke’s estate, and whether the engagement that was meant to salvage her reputation has, in fact, provided the very cover under which it was destroyed.
Hugo’s blood ran cold.
He passed the pamphlet to Lily. She read it, and the color left her face in a single, visible tide. Her hand trembled. The paper shook.
“These are already circulating?” Hugo’s voice came out flat. Controlled. Every syllable placed with precision.
“I found a stack of fifty on my doorstep with some money and a note to distribute them,” Colborne said. “If this batch was meant for me, there are others. Dozens, possibly hundreds, already distributed across London.”
Sophia took the pamphlet from Lily’s hands and read it. Her expression hardened into something Hugo had never seen on her face before. Not fear. Fury.
“They were watching us,” Sophia said. “Whoever did this had someone at the house party reporting on Lily and Hugo’s movements.”
“Someone saw them leave the ball,” Edward said. He had moved to stand behind Sophia, with one hand on her shoulder. “Someone close enough to notice and willing to report it.”
Lady Oldbarrow rose from her chair. She crossed to Lily and placed her hand on her niece’s shoulder. Lily did not look up. She stared at the floor with the fixed, blank expression of someone absorbing a blow they had not seen coming.
“The pamphlets must be collected,” Lord Brimsey said. He was on his feet, his fatherly instincts overriding his shock. “Every copy we can find. If we move quickly…”
“It is too late for that.” Hugo’s voice cut through the room. “If Colborne received fifty copies, the rest are already in circulation. Drawing rooms, coffee houses, gentlemen’s clubs. By morning, every household in Mayfair will have read it.”
Silence ensued.
Lady Brimsey pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. Lord Brimsey’s hand found her elbow. Sophia’s jaw was set. Edward’s eyes were dark and calculating.
Hugo turned to the man standing in the center of the room. The man flinched.
“What is your name?” Hugo kept his voice level.
“Rawley, Your Grace.” The man’s voice cracked. “Thomas Rawley.”
“Mr. Rawley.” Hugo kept his voice measured. “You were caught delivering forged scandal sheets to Mr. Colborne’s office. You understand the severity of that.”
“I did not write them, Your Grace. I swear it. I cannot even read.”
“No one is accusing you of writing them. But someone gave them to you, and someone paid you to deliver them, and you are going to tell me who.”
Rawley shook his head. His hands twisted together. “I was just told to leave the papers. That is all I know. I was paid to deliver them, nothing more.”
“Paid by whom?”
“I cannot say, Your Grace. I was told there would be consequences if I talked.”
“There will be consequences if you do not.” Hugo took a step forward. “Who hired you, Mr. Rawley?”
“I cannot say.”
“Cannot, or will not?”
Rawley’s eyes darted toward the door. Hugo stepped forward. He did not raise his voice. He did not clench his fists. He simply closed the distance between himself and the smaller man and stood there, six feet of ducal authority and barely leashed rage, and looked down at him.
“Mr. Rawley.” Hugo’s voice dropped to something barely above a murmur. “I am the Duke of Thornwaite. The woman whose reputation you have just helped destroy is my fiancée. I have the resources to make your life wonderfully comfortableor exceedingly difficult, and which of those outcomes you experience depends entirely on what you say in the next thirty seconds.”
Rawley’s mouth worked. Sweat beaded along his hairline.
