“To inform you that I am going to the newspapers with information about a certain Lady B of the Diamond clan who spends her timealonewith a gentleman.”
“But that’s me,” Brilliance exclaimed.
Mr. Castern laughed. “Your powers of deduction are sharp, my lady, and I am sure so shall be those ofThe Times’readers, especially the ones who study the society pages.”
Vincent took a step closer. “Why are you doing this? Have you no honor? I withdrew the lawsuit.”
“So you say, and I hope I can trust that you did,” Mr. Castern said. “But she,” and he pointed a gloved finger at Brilliance, “has not stopped telling her lies to anyone who will listen.”
Vincent looked at her, a question lurking on his face.
“I sent letters to people with whom I am acquainted,” she confessed. “Important people, I dare say.”
He grimaced, but Mr. Castern swore a blue oath.
“Don’t speak that way in front of a lady,” Vincent warned.
“Alady,” Mr. Castern spat out, in a rather disparaging tone as far as Brilliance was concerned. “She is a liar and, after finding you two together outside your home, I would wager a lightskirt, too.”
Vincent didn’t say a word before stepping forward and striking Mr. Castern a hard blow to his face. Instantly, blood began to flow from the man’s nose.
A scream shattered the heavy silence, and Mrs. Castern jumped out of the carriage.
“Ambrose, are you injured?” She drew out her handkerchief and handed it to her husband, who held it against his face. Then she rounded upon Vincent.
“You animal!”
“He insulted my betrothed,” Vincent said. “And has admitted an intent to do so in the newspapers like a coward.”
“And she continues to slander my husband,” Mrs. Castern shot back. “Regardless, his face must remain perfect for the concert stage! Revenues will drop if he appears disfigured.”
Brilliance and both the gentleman stared at the incensed wife. Even Mr. Castern seemed surprised that she cared more about his appearance than his bleeding nose or the ownership of the music.
“That hardly seems the primary issue in all this,” Brilliance ventured, looking at the irate female. “Although perhaps whileMr. Castern heals, he could give performances at a song and supper room instead. The Eagle, perhaps.”
“The Eagle!” both of the Casterns said together with similar degrees of disdain for the popular East End tavern.
“Oh, yes,” Brilliance said. “In the newspaper advertisements, it is said to be doing a ‘roaring trade.’ Regardless,” she added, “surely you must understand that the truth is more important than a broken nose, although I do hope Mr. Castern can still breathe easily.”
“Breathe easily!” Mrs. Castern muttered, but she looked worriedly toward her husband, nonetheless.
“If you say one libelous word to the papers,” Vincent warned, “then I shall reinstate the lawsuit at once.”
“The lawsuit hardly matters now that noblemen are canceling their patronage and even some stage managers have said they shall not allow me at their venues. All becausesheis writing letters.”
Suddenly Brilliance recalled the lie that had so upset her the night before. “Mrs. Castern, you lied about these two former friends composing together in your presence.”
Her face paled. “I did not.”
“Last night, when you had me alone, you were a good liar, but today, in the daylight, you seem like a poor one.”
“Come along, Ambrose,” Mrs. Castern said before turning for the waiting cab. “Imagine a member of the House of Lords brawling on the street,” she added as she walked away.
“Not one treacherous lie in the papers,” Vincent warned Mr. Castern.
“Can she fix the damage she has done? Will she write more letters and tell those people she was lying?”
“I was not lying,” Brilliance said.
