Page 84 of The Duke of Deceit

Lucien took the liberty of refilling both their glasses with the best cognac he possessed. He was not above resorting to bribery if that was what it took to change Jess’s mind. “So you understand what I’m asking of you?”

Thomas Barnes, the general editor ofThe Times, nodded and rolled the cigar between his thumb and fingers, watching the wisp of smoke trail its way toward the ceiling. “Damn surprising, though, I have to admit.”

Lucien sank back into his leather chair. The man had no idea.

When Lucien heard Jess utter the words that she would never marry him as long as he held secrets, he knew he would have to charge full-on into the fray or lose her forever. It would be the most important fight of his life, and he had to call in all his resources to win—God help him, including the newspapers.

Barnes had only recently been named general editor, but of all the editors at the four most important daily papers in London, he was the one Lucien had the best chance of winning to his side. His political leanings were anything but conservative,and the man openly disliked the peerage system, railed against its privileges, and was willing to do whatever he could to upend the House of Lords. He was perfect for Lucien’s scheme.The enemy of my enemy is my friend,or so the saying went.

Lucien was certain Barnes would never be his friend, but they both had a mutual interest in turning public opinion against the lords.

“I’ll be honest.” Barnes leaned back in his chair. “When I received your request to meet with me this evening, I thought it was a lark. After all, what could the Duke of Crewe possibly want with my newspaper? You wouldn’t have even deigned to sue us for slander unless it was because we hadn’t blackened your reputation enough.”

“True.” At least, it was before.

“But I thought I would stop by before heading out to dinner.” His clothing confirmed that. He was dressed in New Bond Street’s finest, right down to the shine of his shoes and his ruby cravat pin. “Thought we’d have a short chat and that I’d be on my way long before the first course was served. But after what you’ve just told me…” He swirled his cognac and gave a faint shake of his head. “I’ll be lucky if I arrive before dessert.”

“If you do this for me, Barnes,” Lucien offered, “I’ll buy you dessert every night for the rest of your life.”

Barnes chuckled and took a few short puffs of his cigar. “And all I have to do is convince London society that its worst blackguard deserves its sympathy.”

“Surely, you know how to do that. Simply stress all the good deeds I’ve been doing, all the secret donations to charities—”

“And made even more generous by your insistence upon anonymity,” Barnes interjected, “along with all the children, women, and poor you’ve been helping.”

Lucien grimaced. “Best to leave out the bits about helping the prostitutes, though.”

Barnes laughed and flicked the ash from the end of his cigar.

“Play down my role as a mercenary,” Lucien reminded him.

Barnes’s eyes gleamed. “The exact opposite! I’ll turn you into a war hero.” He clamped his cigar between his teeth. “Your father refused to allow you to have a commission in the British army, so the only way you could join your fellow countrymen in fighting to save European liberty from a despotic Boney was to fight with our most loyal allies in the coalition. Instead of being castigated for it, you should be praised. If only more spoiled sons of peers did as you, perhaps we could have kept the arrogant bastard on Elba, and there never would have been all those killed at Waterloo.”

Knowing better than to say anything to that ludicrous twisting of the truth, Lucien took a sip of cognac. If only it were that easy to clean his soul of the blackness of all he’d done in the wars and actually make him a hero…Impossible.The only person who had ever made him believe he was capable of doing that was Jess.

If he lost her—if he lost the happiness and comfort she alone was capable of providing—God help him. He simply wouldn’t survive.

“And the other?” Lucien asked, leveling a look over the rim of his glass that brooked no nonsense.

“Don’t worry. I know my business and how to do my job.” Barnes pointed his cigar at Lucien. “That is, as long as you keep your end of the bargain and do not offer your story to any other paper.”

“As long as you keep your end of the bargain,” Lucien repeated, turning the words into a warning. “If not, you know what I’m capable of doing.”

“Apparently, Your Grace,” Barnes muttered, his brows drawing together, “no one really does.”

Onewoman did. She was all that mattered.

“I want it all in the evening paper tomorrow,” Lucien continued, “printed and distributed as early as you possibly can.”

“A declaration of war?”

“An early engagement announcement.”

Barnes barked out a laugh. “Same thing!”

A knock tapped lightly at the door.

“Come,” Lucien ordered.