Page 12 of How to Start a Scandal

The man, Burton, was a slender soldier who’d fought alongside Seth in the Peninsula. He’d previously worked as a builder prior to becoming a soldier. Unfortunately, the bullets to his leg had shattered his bones and left him with a terrible limp, one that rendered him unemployable. At least, to all but Seth.

He’d hired Burton as well as Harold, a burly soldier who had lost an arm and could no longer work with horses as he’d done before his time as a soldier. One arm or two, there was no one in all of London who cared more for the chestnuts than Harold. The man tended to the beasts as if they were his children. What’s more, Harold was a genius with maps. If it weren’t for his inability to gently stop a carriage, he might be the most perfect driver there ever was.

While Seth had no desire to be an earl, he would at least concede that it allowed him the opportunity to offer employment to those society would otherwise cast aside.

‘While I’m at White’s,’ Seth continued, ‘I’d like you to pick up a paper called the Society Journal.’ He regretted the request as soon as he’d made it. Whatever Lady Violet found interesting within those printed pages ought to be of no concern to him. He set a foot upon the small stair leading into the carriage and hesitated. ‘For Lady Caroline, of course,’ he added.

Burton’s lips quirked in a ghost of a smile. ‘Of course, my lord.’

The ride to White’s was short. Regardless, rain began pattering at the windows, fat droplets that melted against one another and ran down the expanse of the glass pane. Had Lady Violet decided to pursue a lengthier walk, she would have got soaked.

What a shame that would have been.

An image of her dripping wet immediately sprang into his mind. Her hair falling around her shoulders, tousled and damp, her gown clinging to those luscious curves, the fine, thin fabric made practically transparent by the thorough dousing. Rain would sparkle on her creamy skin like diamonds and those blue, blue eyes of hers would practically glow in contrast to the grey sky above.

Oh, yes, what a shame indeed.

His body responded to his imagination, growing warm and, well, rather hard. The carriage stopped abruptly, knocking him from his thoughts and giving him a solid thump on the back of his head. Served him right for thinking of Lady Violet again. Even the fates were telling him to leave her be. She was not for him. Or, as was more likely, he was not for her.

He rubbed at the sore spot as Burton pulled open the door with an apologetic smile.

‘He’s getting better at the stops.’ The footman winced as he noted Seth rubbing at the back of his head. ‘I think...’

Seth lowered his hand. ‘I did stay in my seat this time.’

Burton grinned. ‘You see, m’lord?’

Seth didn’t bother to nod as he removed himself from the carriage and made his way into the opulence of the most exclusive gentleman’s club in all of London. In the past, Seth would never have dreamed of belonging to such an elegant establishment. Now though, as the Earl of Dalton, there were plenty who sought to sponsor his membership.

Money, of course, had a role to play in all of it. Money always played a role. And Seth had a considerable amount. A ridiculous amount, really. Enough to summon notice.

All in all, it was still a gentlemen’s club and one he hoped could provide a strong lead as to what had become of the solicitor who had stolen from Seth’s mother.

He had a name, at least. Mr Charles Pattinson, Esquire, as well as the description of an older chap with thick dark hair and fine white teeth. No doubt he had exerted his charms on Lady Dalton which had led to the embarrassment of her having been duped. Why else would she have allowed him to get away without repercussion?

Viscount Rawley stood by a window on the second floor of White’s with a cup of tea in his hands as he gazed out into the street in quiet contemplation. A quick glance confirmed his counterpart, Lord Kentworth, was decidedly absent. What good fortune.

‘Good afternoon, Rawley.’ Seth approached the studious man.

The Viscount turned with a friendly expression and the two exchanged the usual pleasantries, health and the weather and all that, performed with careful haste on Seth’s part before Kentworth could invade on the conversation.

When the usual polite chatter fell away, Seth broached the topic he’d most wanted to discuss. The missing solicitor.

Seth scanned about once more to confirm Kentworth was not nearby. ‘I was wondering if you might be able to assist me with providing a contact to locate the solicitor who took advantage of my family in my absence.’

Rawley’s forefinger tapped at his teacup in consideration and slowly nodded. ‘I have a man for such a thing.’ He, too, looked over his shoulder, as though concerned Kentworth might interrupt. ‘He’s a former Runner who now operates on his own. He’s devilishly smart and hasn’t failed me yet on any matter I’ve brought to him. What’s more, he’s discreet.’

Seth nodded. ‘Perfect.’

‘I’ll have him reach out to you.’ Rawley went silent as a pair of men strode past them and did not speak again until they were out of earshot. ‘You’re forewarned, he can be rather rough around the edges.’

Seth was undeterred. ‘After so long being a soldier, that is certainly the least of my concerns.’

‘What have we here?’ Kentworth’s voice filled the conspiratorial space between them.

Years ago, Seth had enjoyed the good times shared with the Marquess, but now the man’s boisterous presence rankled at Seth’s nerves.

‘You missed quite the time of it last night.’ Kentworth lifted his glass in silent salute. ‘The ladies love a man with war scars to show for his efforts.’