“Tsk, tsk. What would it do to your precious reputation?”
“Only gain me accolades from all those who have met you and found you utterly wanting,” James says, and Bobby refrains from whooping.
“You won’t be so confident when I go to the papers,” Raverson sneers.
“With what, exactly?” Gwen asks. Bobby shifts again, trying to keep both girls behind him. “That he’s happily engaged and about to receive a sizeable dowry?”
“I can prove your engagements are nothing but a sham with a flick of my wrist,” Raverson says, digging roughly in his pocket to pull out a small gold ring.
That’shisbloody signet ring. Bobby surges forward only for James to yank him back.
“You’ll pay, or Havenfort will, or the whole ton will know you’re poofs,” Raverson hisses.
“My father won’t give you a farthing,” Gwen says.
“And neither will we,” Bobby agrees.
“I think you’re all very brave here, away from the ton, but when you get back and find yourselves plastered all over the papers—”
“See, I think it’s you who will be plastered all over the papers.” Raverson turns as Meredith and Albie reach the top of the dock stairs, calm and easy. “What is it you think you have to go to the gossip rags with again?” Meredith asks sweetly.
“Wouldn’t be that you were seen by no less than three parliamentarians fumbling in an alley with the season’s new tenor, would it?” Albie asks.
Beth nudges into Bobby’s back as Gwen slowly pulls James a few steps away from Raverson, leaving the man at the apex of a triangle between Albie and Meredith and their cluster by the railing. Bobby hears a far-off curse and imagines Cunningham and Parker must be headed their way shortly too.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Raverson says easily. But his eyes have gone shifty and he’s swaying on his feet.
“The newspaperman, a dock worker, and... how many was it again, Lady Mason?”
“I think it was three second sons of very reputable lords who know exactly what we’re talking about. I’m sure their fathers would be quite displeased to find out you’re planning to blackmail their sons, all of whom have perfectly respectable alibis for every encounter in question.”
“But the opera singer, and the dock worker, and a few choice young stablehands would be more than happy to cash in on your offer of funds to keep them quiet. Wouldn’t want your own reputation slandered in the papers. Would keep you from ever earning an honest living again, wouldn’t it?” Albie asks calmly.
Raverson takes a menacing step toward him, and Albie moves in front of Meredith. Pulled up to his full height and scowling, Albie is more than intimidating enough to cow any man, much less this version of Raverson. “Take another step toward my pregnant wife, and you’ll be in the channel.”
Raverson stops and glares around at them. “One day, you’ll slip up, and I’ll be there to capitalize on it.”
“It’ll be your word against the six of ours, and Lord Havenfort, and his entire committee, then,” James says.
“And Thomas Parker’s patrons,” Bobby puts in, proud to see the way Raverson pales at the mention.
“Yes, we don’t take kindly to predators in our midst, no matter who you are or how well-connected,” Parker’s voice adds. He and Cunningham crest the stairs, a little winded, but properly menacing, backlit as they are by the rising sun.
“We’ve compiled a long list of witnesses who know of your nightly escapades,” Meredith puts in from behind Albie.
“For a man so set on blackmailing, you’ve been highly indiscreet yourself,” Cunningham adds.
From her pocket, Meredith pulls the list of every accusationthey’ve been able to gather. Raverson goes red and takes two more steps toward Albie and Meredith. Bobby’s not really sure which of them grabs him first, but he, James, Albie, Parker, and Cunningham make quick work of hauling Raverson to the railing and dumping him over, where he careens into the water below with an enormous splash.
He comes up spluttering, glowering up at the eight of them as they lean over the railing.
“You loathsome, horrid, blasphemous—” Raverson starts.
“It’s your own fault for being drunk at eight in the morning,” Albie calls over him, his voice booming across the water.
Bobby looks over his shoulder to find the splash has attracted the small number of morning walkers. A mix of gentlemen, mothers and daughters, and dock workers is heading their way. The perfect team of gossips.
“My cousin and her stepsister said no,” Albie continues, overloud. “You need to accept that neither of them wishes to consort with you, and you should be grateful their fiancés only saw fit to toss you into the sea, rather than take you to task for assaulting their betrotheds.”
