Alex raised his voice to be heard above the din. “Please! Remain calm and hear me. As one with a vested interest in the end of that vicious scandal sheet, I have decided that it is time to take action. I know there are others, but my investigation of recent columns has revealed to me that each of you has been slandered by this woman’s pen. Together, we are influential enough to put an end to her reign.”
“How?” asked one of the barons, one who Benedict knew had three mistresses stashed throughout London, out of view of his wife. “No one knows who she is.”
Alex met Ben’s gaze and winked, seeming to enjoy his place as the center of attention. “My lord, before I address your question, I must introduce the guest of honor. Hodge, please show her in.”
The butler moved to open the door to the antechamber, standing aside as a woman thundered through, hands planted on her hips. It was Cynthia Milbank, dressed to the nines and fuming.
“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed, descending on Alex with an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “You invite me here, and then proceed to lock me in that room and leave me to languish?”
Alex took gentle hold of Cynthia’s arm, turning her to face the other guests. Benedict stifled a chuckle as her roughed mouth parted into a circle of shock. In her anger, she hadn’t even noticed that the others had been seated for dinner. She met Benedict’s gaze, and he couldn’t resist taunting her with a little wave.
“Miss Milbank, I do apologize for the wait,” Alex crooned. “But I had to ensure that everything was in readiness for your big entrance. You see, all these people have gathered here to meet you.”
Cynthia’s sharp gaze pierced Alex, her diminutive height doing nothing to decrease her presence. She whispered something that Benedict couldn’t hear, but whatever it was made Alex laugh.
“All will be revealed in time, Miss Milbank. Please, sit here at the head of the table. I saved this seat just for you.”
By now, some of the guests had caught on to what Alex was about to reveal. Their spiteful glances in Cynthia’s direction spoke volumes, though no one seemed to want to interrupt Alex. With footmen stationed at every door leading from the room, and the eyes of the nobility upon her, Cynthia had no choice but to sit.
“Now,” Alex said, hands braced on the back of Cynthia’s chair. “My lords and ladies, may I present to you Cynthia Milbank … the infamous London Gossip herself.”
The philandering baron was on his feet, spittle flying as he raged at Cynthia. “You scheming little tart! You … you unconscionable snake!”
“I second that,” drawled the Earl of Hartmoor from his place at Benedict’s left side. The man was known for his Scottish brogue and a head of hair that trailed down his back—as well as a slew of scandalous acts that had led to him being dubbed ‘Hartless’. No one dared speak the insult to his face. “My name has appeared in your pitiful little column one too many times. Even if it was well-deserved.”
A few nervous laughs went up, but most of the guests seemed paralyzed by this news. Benedict was enthralled, now completely invested in watching the spectacle play out. His father looked as if he wanted to stand and pummel Alex with his fists—which Benedict wouldn’t take sitting down. If Alex wanted a spectacle, Benedict was ready to oblige him.
“You have no proof,” Cynthia blustered, head held high. “This is an outrageous accusation. I should have you prosecuted for defamation!”
“And every man in this room will return the favor by seeing you imprisoned for libel,” Alex shot back. “Sit down, Miss Milbank!”
Cynthia had been halfway out of her chair, but Alex’s raised voice startled her back onto her backside. She was practically snorting with rage, shoulders heaving as she speared Benedict with a murderous gaze. “You’re behind this, I know it.”
Before Benedict could reply, Alex chimed in. “Oh, Mr. Sterling had no idea what I had planned for this evening. I invited him because out of every person in this room, his is the name you have dragged most thoroughly through the mud. He deserves a seat at this table as much as the rest of us.”
“Hear, hear!” David called out, raising his glass.
“Now,” Alex continued. “As to your assertion that I have no proof … Hodge, please show Mr. Lyons in.”
The door to the corridor was opened by a footman, and Warin Lyons stepped through. In his hands, he carried several sheaves of documents. With an acknowledging nod at Benedict, he silently began making his way around the room, offering everyone a bundle of papers. He saved Benedict for last, his stoic face belying the amusement in his eyes.
“Mr. Sterling,” he murmured as he dropped a sheaf before Benedict. “Consider this my thanks for all you’ve done for me.”
Benedict stared down at the papers as Lyons melted into a corner of the dining room, stunned by what he found. He and the others flipped through the pages as Alex spoke.
“Each of you has been given a different collection of documents, which you should feel free to pass around to peruse. But what you will find are records of payments made from Miss Milbank to a printer in Whitechapel and one in Marylebone—both responsible for producing the copies of The London Gossip that are distributed through the city and beyond. There are also written accounts of the lords who have been extorted of funds to escape being skewered in Miss Milbank’s column—signed before witnesses. I would like to thank Mr. Graham, Mr. Burke, and Mr. Radcliffe for collecting these statements and acting as those witnesses. Each statement has been paired with banking records that show the deposit of funds for every man who caved to Miss Milbank’s outrageous demands.”
One of the earls slammed a fist atop his set of documents, nostrils flared and eyes wide with fury as he stared at Cynthia. “I want her tried and punished for her crimes! Slander! Extortion! Blackmail! This cannot be allowed to stand!”
A few voices raised in agreement, the baron with three mistresses the loudest of all. Another man seated beside Benedict’s father came to his feet, bringing the entire room to a standstill.
Camden Rycroft, His Grace the Duke of Avonleah, had remained silent through the entire meeting, his sharp blue gaze missing nothing. That everyone quieted when he stood was a testament to his well-earned position as one of the most powerful peers of the realm.
“I agree, my lord, it cannot stand,” he said. “However, I must remind you all that a public trial will bring our scandals to light. Some of us have secrets that are more dangerous than the others, and we still have not uncovered the extent of what else she is privy to.”
“Quite right, Your Grace,” Alex replied. “Which is why I will appreciate the help of yourself and everyone here to ensure that the poison of this woman’s vitriol spreads no further. In the process, we will preserve our reputations and keep our secrets.”
Cynthia shot to her feet, her chair pushing back against Alex’s middle. She was in a lather, fists clenched as she whirled manically, as if to set her cold eyes on every one of them.
“This is preposterous! You all cannot be daft enough to believe these claims! Those documents are a fabrication, and Lord Vautrey’s vendetta against me is nothing more than an attempt to cover his own disgusting secrets!”
“Be very careful with your next words, Miss Milbank,” Alex said, his low voice heavy with warning. “I am prepared to be gracious toward you, but only if you do not push your luck. I will not tolerate accusations against my good name under my own roof. Now sit down, and shut your mouth.”
“No!” she roared, backing away from the table, one hand falling over her bosom. “No! This isn’t right! This isn’t how it was supposed to happen!”
“Ah, I see,” Alex said. “You expected Mr. Sterling to cater to your whims. How much did you attempt to extort from him to keep his secrets?”
“The man has been running a prostitution ring right under all your noses!” she bellowed, waving a wild hand in Benedict’s direction. “He is the proprietor of The Gentleman Courtesans, a scheming bawd who sought to prey on th
e vulnerable women of London by peddling the sexual favors of several men. Many of them are here tonight. Mr. Drake, Mr. Burke, Mr. Graham, and Mr. Radcliffe! They were all willing participants in the sordid enterprise!”
One could have heard a pin drop in the explosive silence following Cynthia’s tirade. Every muscle in Benedict’s body clenched, his hands itching to strangle the woman where she stood. But, as the others looked curiously at his friends, not one of them flinched. David’s lips quivered as if he were laughing at a private joke, and Nick looked as if he might burst with the words lingering on his tongue.
Alex remained as cool as ever. “Mr. Burke, would you care to address this ridiculous allegation?”
Nick gave Cynthia a coy smirk as he stood to his feet. “My lords and ladies, despite the deranged ramblings of this woman—who is a proven liar and schemer—I am here to assure you that no such agency exists. There are no gentleman courtesans.”
“You lie!” Cynthia cried. “I have proof! The testimony of a woman who swore to me that you warmed her bed for almost a year. A dress shop was used as a secret meeting place. Your calling-cards—”
“Only spelled out the initials of the real agency that myself and my friends took part in creating. The Gentleman Courters; an agency dedicated to reforming men with scandalous reputations in preparation for marriage, as well as matching potential brides with men seeking wives.”
Benedict goggled at Nick, unable to fathom what he was hearing. Had it always been this simple—disguising a courtesan endeavor as a matchmaking one?
“Any man who has been taken under the tutelage of Mr. Sterling can tell you that he has an uncanny skill for reading people,” Nick continued. “With that skill, he was able to match myself and my friends with the perfect companions. I stand here today a man reformed, in love, and happier than ever, thanks to Benedict pairing me with my beautiful wife.”
“I second that,” Hugh put in, joining Nick on his feet. “If it weren’t for The Gentleman Courters, I would never have been matched with my dear Evie, who is the light of my life. I would not be expecting my first child, or achieving such greatness in my art.”
David laid a hand atop Regina’s on the table, giving her a glance filled with affection. “I think everyone in this room knows I would have never stood a chance with a woman such as this, had not Mr. Sterling shaped me into the man I am today … a man worthy of a woman like my darling Regina.”
Aubrey kissed his wife’s gloved knuckles and grinned. “I cannot reiterate what my friends have already said to eloquently. We all have Mr. Sterling to thank for our happiness. He has done nothing wrong, and Miss Milbank has made it her mission to twist the true spirit of the agency to paint Mr. Sterling as a villain.”
“Perhaps her own state of spinsterhood is to blame,” Nick muttered while taking his seat.
David snorted a laugh, nearly spewing wine across the table, while Aubrey shook his head at both him and Nick. Benedict couldn’t decide how he felt, his head spinning as he absorbed the masterful orchestration of Alex’s plan as it played out before him. He would never have imagined his friends might come together to put the talk of The Gentleman Courtesans to rest for good. It drove home just how much he had underestimated them all, how much he had taken on alone unnecessarily.
“Now then,” Alex said, looking to a deflated and defeated Cynthia. “Are you ready to admit the truth? I warn you, if you continue to lie to us, my good humor will wane, and I will be forced to deal harshly with you.”
Cynthia stared down at the rug, her slumped shoulders and wet, reddened cheeks speaking of her helplessness. “All right … yes. Yes, I am the London Gossip.” Her head snapped up, her tear-filled face nearly purple as she resumed her rebellious posturing. “But I only became the Gossip to prove that you lords with your titles and the fortunes you haven’t earned are no better than the rest of us. You’re only men—disgusting animals and the whores you consort with!”
“I resent that remark,” Celeste said with puckered lips.
“Hell, I resemble that remark,” Millicent quipped, sending both women leaning into one another in a fit of giggles.
“Nothing wrong with being a whore,” added the Earl of Hartmoor. “It’s good honest work.”
“Don’t you dare mock me!” Cynthia railed. “I held your secrets in the palm of my hand, your livelihoods, your futures! I destroyed who I wished with the stroke of my pen, and I could take every one of you down any time I liked. I am not some insignificant merchant’s daughter. I have proven that I am better than you, smarter than you! I made myself from the ground up, and not one of you can claim to have done the same! I have made myself more powerful than all of you!”
“Not anymore,” Alex said. “Henceforth, all your writings will cease, under the name of the London Gossip or any other pseudonym.”
“Hang you,” Cynthia ground out, tears steadily streaming down her cheeks. “Hang you all!”
“Miss Milbank, I have long run out of patience with you,” Alex retorted. “You will be silent and listen! Your time as the London Gossip is over, and with the help of the people gathered here, I will ensure that you can never hurt another person. Firstly, every printer in London has been made to understand that producing any materials written by you will result in dire consequences. Their business will dry up, and they will be destitute—we will see to it ourselves.”
“I damned sure will,” Hartmoor grumbled.
“Secondly, with the help of Mr. Lyons, I have procured the names of all the men in your employ. They will be paid handsomely to never lift a finger on your behalf again. Try intimidating anyone without your thugs for reinforcement.”
“I will personally finance that endeavor myself,” Hartmoor said. “Gladly.”
“And I will help him,” added the baron.
“I thank you, my lords,” Alex replied. “Thirdly, the young boys you used to distribute your papers have been compensated for their paltry wages and the cruelty you subjected them to. Their families will live in comfort, and they will spread the word to all in their neighborhoods that they would do well to avoid accepting any further work from you.”
“With the help of my Ladies’ Charitable Society, I will ensure that no one who lives in need will come crawling to you,” said Margaret Rycroft, the Duchess of Avonleah. The woman was quiet and poised, her soft voice holding a biting edge as she glared at Cynthia. “The power of a woman isn’t in how well she can tear others down, but at how passionate they are about building others up.”
“Oh, I like her,” Celeste whispered to Millicent—or rather, she tried to whisper, but too much wine had taken hold of her senses.
“She’s an absolute darling,” Millicent replied. “Remind me to introduce you to her later.”
“Finally,” Alex went on. “You will leave London immediately. I don’t care where you go or what you choose to do with the rest of your life, but any inkling that you are up to your old tricks, and I will circulate pamphlets as far as I can reach, outing you as The London Gossip. I imagine there are any number of lords who would wish to know who you really are, and they will not let you off as lightly as I have.”
“And Miss Milbank,” said the duke. “I wouldn’t suggest refusing to heed these demands. I intend to ensure that Lord Vautrey’s pamphlets number in the thousands and are distributed to the furthest edges of England. You will be welcomed nowhere.”
Cynthia ground her teeth and shook her head. “No. I won’t do it.”
“You will, or we will involve the law. With all the evidence we’ve compiled, no court in England will show you sympathy. No one will believe the lies you’ve tried to spread about Mr. Sterling once your true character is exposed. You will rot in prison … perhaps even the one your family shares a name with. I can see it now … Cynthia Milbank, a prisoner of the Milbank Prison. A joke, a disgraced has-been. It would be a just reward for what you’ve done.”
“As an alternative …I have a remote Scottish castle that would be per
fect for imprisonment,” Hartmooor purred.
Cynthia’s face went white in the face of Hartmoor’s threatening gaze.
Hartmoor grinned and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m only joking … though you would be wise to heed His Lordship. The offer is better than the one I might have given.”
Cynthia’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Very well. It seems you have left me no choice.”
“There is one other matter to be handled privately between us,” Alex said. “If you cooperate, I will consider our bargain sealed. If not, the deal is off.”
Benedict noted the cut of Alex’s eyes toward his father, and the relief he felt was overtaken by another wave of dread. Alex had hinted that he intended to deal with Cynthia and the viscount in one bold stroke. Wondering what else he had up his sleeve put Benedict on the edge of his seat.
“Agreed,” Cynthia bit out, avoiding the gazes of those seated at the table.
“Excellent decision,” Alex said. “Hodge, escort Miss Milbank back to the antechamber. I will join her momentarily. As for the rest of you, I am pleased to announce that dinner is served. Eat, drink, and enjoy the spoils of victory.”
The entire dining room erupted at once, people coming to their feet and toasting with their glasses, shaking hands and smiling. Benedict headed straight for Alex, but was waylaid by his father stepping into his path.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” the viscount demanded. “What did you think to achieve with this tasteless display?”
“Now, now, Lord Sterling,” Alex crooned, coming up behind the viscount. “I cannot allow Ben to take credit for what was all my doing. A full explanation is in order, I think. If you would join Ben, myself, and Miss Milbank in the antechamber?”
As Alex came to his side, the viscount faced him with defiance hardening his jaw. “I will not take orders from you or anyone else.”
Edging close and lowering his voice so that only they could hear, Alex returned the viscount’s defiant stare. “You will accompany us now, or I will make another announcement concerning Miss Milbank and her involvement in a scheme of your design.”
Chasing Benedict (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 5) Page 24