“I am calm,” she bit out. “Release me.”
He studied her, his scrutiny making her squirm. Finally, he stepped back, but not before removing the pillow from her hand and tossing it onto his chair. “Assaulting an officer of Bow Street wasn’t a wise decision.”
She huffed. “It was a pillow, not an assault. And you suspect my mother!” As far as she was concerned, people who went around suspecting mothers of horrific acts deserved having objects thrown at their heads.
He picked up his notepad and slid it away in his pocket. “Don’t worry.” He turned at the door, looking down his nose at her. “With your temper, I suspect you, as well.”
Chapter Nine
Lady Mary
Amelia Massey wasnot at home when I called. I shoved down my irritation, along with my suspicion that she was, in fact, at home, just not receiving callers, more specifically, my call, and gave directions to my driver for our next stop. It was but ten minutes before Ernest leapt down from his perch and held open my door. “We’re here, Lady Mary.”
Lord Anglia was at home, and the alacrity with which he had me shown to his study did a little bit toward soothing my pride. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Mary? I believe I haven’t seen you since that little soiree your nephew and his wife held last season.”
The Duke and Duchess of Montague had held a ball of over five hundred guests, but Anglia was correct as to that being the last time we’d spoken. He was a handsome man, in his third decade, but with the air of someone who had lived twice that long. He cultivated a mood ofennui, as though there was nothing under the sun that could possibly surprise him. He wore his buckskins a bit too tight, and his waistcoat was a shade too bright. He was a man who wanted the world’s attention, but didn’t want anyone to realize that he wanted it.
I settled myself in the chair across from him. “I wished to speak with you about opinion pieces inThe Times. I noticed you had written one in Tuesday’s paper. You might have seen the one directed against my club right above it.”
The same butler who had shown me in returned with a tea tray. The ends of his shockingly long white mustache curled onto his cheeks and quivered when he spoke. “Lemon or milk, milady?”
“Lemon, thank you.” I waited for the cups to be distributed, the napkins to be laid across laps, and for the butler to leave the room. I peered at Lord Anglia over the rim of my cup. “So, did you see it?”
“I did.” One edge of his mouth curled up. “Mr. Ryder seems to have set his cap at you, in the most unfortunate of ways. Though he’s not the only one who thinks your club was a most distasteful venture.”
“Heaven forbid that women have a place to congregate and seek relaxation in the same manner as men.” The tartness of the lemon mirrored my mood. The very resistance against the idea proved the need for such an institution.
He raised one shoulder, looking bored once again. “What do you wish to know about opinion pieces?”
I placed my cup on the low table in front of me. In my irritation, I’d almost forgotten I had an ulterior motive. “Do you have to know the editor in order for your article to be published? Pay a certain amount?”
“No payment necessary.” He crossed one trim leg over the other. “The paper only seeks increased circulation.”
“So the more provoking the article, the more likely it is to be published?”
“Of course.” He shifted, and a sunbeam caught the onyx stud pinned to his cravat. The pin stuck through the center of an embroideredA, the threads of the letter only a shade darker than the cream of the cloth. “Such is the nature of publishing.”
Indeed. “So when you wrote your piece, did you embellish the facts in order to heighten the likelihood of publication?”
He snorted. “I’m an earl, a high-ranking member of Parliament.The Timeswill publish whatever I write.”
“Even if it isn’t true?” I’d reread Anglia’s piece several times since Lady Richford’s death. He never explicitly stated it, but he’d heavily implied that the lady used deviant sexual favors in order to control her husband. Even specifying that Lord Richford’sNovote on a public funding bill to remodel and restore the Palace of Westminster was a direct result of a weekend spent at an isolated house in the country under Lady Richford’s skilled tutelage.
Unless Anglia had spies in the Richford’s homes, there was no way he could have known such information.
“What are you insinuating, Lady Mary?” He smirked. “That I would tell Canterbury tales in order to have my way?” He tutted. “I hope you don’t start spreading stories about me. We do have libel laws in this country.”
I stopped just short of rolling my eyes. The man could insinuate filthy things about Lady Richford. He’d be lucky if the Viscount of Richford didn’t drag him before the courts. There was no way someone questioning his lies could be held accountable for libel. “You are correct. Truth is important. Which makes me wonder how you could know what went on in the Richford’s bedroom. What was the basis for your accusations?”
“Have you met Lord Richford?” He arched a slim brow. “I knew merely by the viscount’s manner that his wife had him by the boll—” He cleared his throat. “Held the reins in the marriage, let’s just say.” He cocked his head. “Why all the questions about the Richfords?”
I pushed my spectacles up the bridge of my nose. “Perhaps I want to know the limits of libel laws to know what possible courses of action I have against Mr. Ryder and his morality committee. I won’t deny that since Lady Richford was killed inmy club that my interest in her has been piqued. I’ve heard such varied things since her death. I would like to better understand her character.”
“It isn’t a difficult study to take.” Anglia picked up a biscuit and took a bite, a few crumbs dusting his coat. “She was a woman who thought restraint didn’t apply to her. A woman who thought only of her own pleasures without regard to others. A materialist. Altogether a wife unsuitable for a member of the House of Lords.”
Even though Anglia was an odious man, his assessment wasn’t far from my own. I had also observed the woman’s selfish manner on more than one occasion. Lady Richford had sought enjoyment out of every moment, even when it came at the expense of others’ feelings. “Then you believe the rumors of her infidelity?”
Anglia paused before dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I hadn’t heard that particular rumor, but it would hardly be surprising. Lady Richford considered herself a modern woman. Believing in the free love movement would be in keeping with that.” He leveled me with an impertinent stare. “I’m certain Lady Richford isn’t the only member of your club who would agree with her sentiment. Part of the allure of your club is for ladies to have a place to go out from under the watchful eyes of their husbands.”
