Page 4 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

End of story.

Until Cook gained word and saw his untouched plate.

With a sigh, he scooped a mouthful of tepid porridge from his bowl and crammed it into his mouth before he could change his mind.

He supposed someone looking after his well-being was appreciated.

For all the headaches the woman caused him, he was grateful to have her.

Joshua yelped in surprise when the sound of the front door slamming, followed by pounding footsteps, approached the Montrose townhouse dining room.

He raised his brow in question as the dining room door slammed against its hinges, revealing his stable hand, Lucian, his clothes disheveled and his cap clutched to his heaving chest. For all his bluster, he stood silently, staring at the floor, waiting for Roderick to address him. This was the same lad Roderick had gotten into trouble with in their youths for leaving tops on the upper-floor landing—causing not one, not two, but three maids injury. And now, he cowered before Roderick as if he would rip the stable hand limb from limb if Lucian spoke out of turn.

“Speak, Lucian,” he finally commanded.

“I have news, Your Grace,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

“And are you worried this news will displease me?” Roderick pushed his onyx hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He needs must make a note to have his valet trim it or procure a stronger pomatum to keep the blasted strands from falling into his face. “Out with it.”

“Your Grace, I…” Lucian started again after taking a deep breath.

“Enough with formalities,” Roderick said, pushing his chair back to stand.

“I think I have finally determined the source of the Mayfair Confidential column.” He dared a glance at Roderick and seeing his pleased expression Lucian continued. “There is a woman. She’s come and gone from the Gazette on five occasions over the last fortnight. She was there in the late-night hours, and while I have not confirmed, I suspect a new column was printed in the London Daily Gazette today.”

“You are correct.” Roderick nodded to Joshua to remove his plate of hardly touched food. “Have you ascertained the woman’s identity?”

A moment of excitement hung in the air.

“No, Your Grace.” Lucian shook his head. “I wanted to make certain you approved of me looking further into the matter. I do know she does not find full-time employment at the paper, nor does she have relatives within the Gazette. I asked about the business, but no one was familiar with her—or they refused to comment.”

“Of course, I want you to investigate further.” Roderick’s command thundered, and once again, standing against the wall, Joshua flinched. “This woman, whoever she may be, is responsible for destroying my life. I will see she pays for her actions.” He needs must calm his anger, especially if he wanted to keep his footman from expiring from fright. “What can you tell me of this woman? Is it possible I am acquainted with her?”

Lucian pulled at his coat as if noting for the first time his ramshackle appearance. “She arrives in a fancy carriage each time, leaving it down the street. She enters the business without so much as a glance over her shoulder. This was why it took me so long to figure her out. If I were the one exposing men of the ton, I would be paranoid and watching my back at every turn. But this woman, her chin is always high, raven hair always perfectly groomed, and her gowns are impeccable, likely made by the finest modiste in London.”

“You suspect she is of noble birth?” Why hadn’t the notion crossed his mind before? Roderick had suspected the culprit to be a jealous lord, not a woman—especially not a lady of class.

“I have little doubt of it, Your Grace.”

“Then you have my permission to look into the woman further; however…” This was not an entirely new venture, sleuthing. He’d been investigating random men and businesses for several years now; though it was imperative that he not draw attention to his activities. “Do not let the woman know we are on to her, or she is likely to vanish.”

“Certainly, Your Grace. I will bring you information as soon as I know anything more.” Lucian bowed and turned to leave.

“And, Lucian.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Do bathe and get some rest before going back out.”

The servant smiled, wearily. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Roderick glanced back toward the footman pressed against the far wall; he seemed unimpressed and no less anxious by the kindness Roderick had shown Lucian.

No matter, he had many important things to accomplish, far more dire than convincing a new servant he was not the beast he appeared to be despite his jet-black hair, severe jawline, and penetrating ice-blue eyes. He only knew these terms for a gentleman’s appearance because Lady Daphne was always going on and on about his dashingly handsome face.

His gut twisted at the thought of the young woman, so innocent and shy. It would have been a pleasure to take her as wife and make her the Duchess of Montrose. Yet, that had been another thing stripped from him by the Mayfair Confidential. What his father’s dastardly friends hadn’t stolen from him, the person who’d published the damning column in the London Daily Gazette had.

He could remember every scandalous word: