The Bride Hunt by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online Page B

fingers at her mouth as she looked at her sisters. “I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s not your fault,” Prudence said, removing her glasses and wiping at a smudge with her handkerchief. “Chas and I stand behind what you wrote. We know he reneged on gambling debts and we know some of his financial dealings have been suspect.” She replaced her glasses.
    “But we had no evidence,” Constance said. “I got carried away by the excitement of exposing his philandering and I thought I could throw in the dishonesty and no one would question it because the rest was incontrovertible.”
    “Well, he questioned it,” Prudence said flatly. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a jab of her forefinger. “Obviously he thinks that if he can sue us successfully for libel on this, then he’ll be vindicated on the other accusations as well. And then he can go after the
Pall Mall Gazette
. After a court triumph, no one will dare to whisper about his sexual peccadilloes.”
    Constance tossed the document back onto the secretaire with an air of disgust. “Any ideas?”
    “Well, we’ve got the ball rolling,” Prudence said, and explained about Sir Gideon Malvern. “Amelia Franklin came around this morning with a message that he’ll see us next Thursday at four o’clock,” she finished. “Obviously, I didn’t want to give him this address, at least not at this stage, so I gave him Amelia and Henry’s as a contact.”
    Constance nodded. “I’m sure they didn’t mind.”
    “No, quite the opposite. Amelia’s always offering to help with
The Mayfair Lady.
”
    Constance nodded again. “Then there’s not much we can do until we see him. I wonder if Max knows him. He’s bound to be expensive if he’s a KC.”
    “We’d come to that conclusion ourselves,” Prudence said gloomily. “He’s already said that his initial fee will be fifty guineas. But apart from that, how do we keep our own names out of this? Barclay can sue
The Mayfair Lady,
but someone’s going to want to know whose hand actually penned the so-called libel.”
    Her sisters made no immediate response to that truth.
    The heavy slam of the front door downstairs broke their silence. “Father,” said Chastity. “He’ll be so pleased to see you, Con.” Her tone was a trifle lackluster.
    “I imagine he’s totally taken Barclay’s part in this,” Constance stated without question or surprise. She walked to the door. “I’ll run down and see him.” She reached the top of the stairs just as Lord Duncan began to ascend them.
    “Constance, my dear,” he said, hurrying up towards her, a smile splitting his face. “Your sisters weren’t sure when you’d be here. Your wire said something about the boat being delayed by the weather.”
    “Oh, it cleared up and we sailed on yesterday morning’s tide. We got back to London late last night, but I couldn’t wait another minute to see you all,” she said, opening her arms to him. She hugged him as he kissed her soundly. “Are you well?”
    “Oh, yes . . . yes, indeed.” He stood back, holding her shoulders as he examined her. “Marriage suits you, my dear. You have quite a glow about you.”
    She laughed. “I believe it does. Max will be coming round in an hour or so to pay his respects.”
    “I look forward to seeing him. I’d welcome his opinion on a bad business.” He shook his head. “A very bad business.”
    “Prue and Chas were saying something about—” Constance began, but Lord Duncan swept on.
    “That disgraceful rag . . .
Mayfair Lady
. . . libeled Barclay, would you believe? The brass nerve of it.” Lord Duncan’s already ruddy complexion took on a deeper hue. “Absolutely outrageous. And now this wretched
Pall Mall Gazette
has taken it up.”
    “Yes, we told Con all about it, Father,” Chastity said in soothing tones from behind her sister.
    “It’s a disgrace. That an honest man can be pilloried by some scandalmongering underground broadsheet . . . Anonymous