Pleasure For Pleasure by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page A

circulation of this newspaper has increased tenfold,” Mr. Jessopp said, his back so rigid with anger that he couldn’t even feel his stays. “Nay,” he corrected himself. “It’s improved hundredfold. What’s more, I’ve brought up the tone. Twenty years ago The Tatler had a reputation for scurrilous investigatory practices, sending men out to bribe butlers.” He curled his lip to indicate his opinion of the practice.
    â€œIt’s not as if the place ain’t rife with butlers carrying away a bit of the ready,” Mr. Goffe said. Jessopp’s partner was leaning against the fireplace, sucking on a rancid pipe.
    â€œI don’t go to them,” Jessopp said, explaining it again. “They come to me . There’s a difference.”
    Goffe shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    â€œAnything happens in London, particularly amongst the ton, is mine for the asking.”
    Goffe took his pipe out of his mouth. “Then how’s about handing over Hellgate, and let’s stop this demmed wrangling.”
    â€œHellgate is Mayne, everyone knows that.”
    â€œThe story may refer to Mayne’s exploits,” Goffe said. “You have to give the devil his due. But it was never the Earl of Mayne who sat down and wrote that up. For one thing, he’s got no call to. For another, he don’t need the ready. And it’s not a gentlemanlike thing to do. We need the author of those memoirs!”
    Jessopp’s own well-annotated copy of the Memoirs was over on the table. But here was another instance where he and his partner had a difference of opinion. “I think it was a gentleman doing the writing,” he said stubbornly. “I read it over with that in mind.”
    â€œWell, if you know all the doings of the ton , name the man,” Goffe said. “Go ahead.”
    Jessopp thought about how much he hated his partner while he decided how to reply. “I don’t know who wrote it yet. You know that. But there are turns of phrase that could only have been written by a gentleman. Even that bit about how he named all the women after a Shakespeare play: that isn’t the sort of thing an average man would dream up.”
    â€œWe need to know for certain,” Goffe said. “For God’s sakes, don’t get us embroiled in a lawsuit, but we need the answer to this one, Jessopp. If your regular little rodents haven’t told you—”
    Jessopp moved in instinctive protest at this characterization. He had wide circles of friends, who were kind enough to bring him information.
    â€œWhatever,” Goffe told him. “Yer friends have failed you this time. That means we need to go back to the old days, if you ask me. We need a rattler, the way we used to have. One of The Tatler ’s own rattlers. That’s what we need.”
    Jessopp curled his lip. “We’ve moved beyond those days. Now people come to us. We leave that sort of sneaking corruption to the scandal rags.”
    â€œWe are a scandal rag,” Goffe told him, unmoved. “What’s more, we’re a scandal rag that’s passing up one of the biggest scandals around. If that book was written by someone in the ton, then that’s a story that The Tatler needs to break. We own the ton .”
    Jessopp couldn’t help seeing the truth of that.
    â€œThe ton has a right to know who’s hiding behind the name Hellgate,” Goffe continued. “Mayne will thank us when we ferret out the truth of it. Who’s depraved enough to take someone else’s strumpets and turn the tale into a triple folio, sold in leather?”
    â€œIf the author is a depraved member of the ton, ” Jessopp said, “that reduces the number of suspects to around seven hundred.”
    â€œIt’s not the biggest story of this year,” Goffe said. “It’s the only story of this year. Take our whole budget, Jessopp. Just get that name, and