Page 16 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
So which flawed candidate will party electors choose? The heir apparent with questionable morals, or the party star who cannot get things done?
Niall crumpled the tract before he could read more. He did not need to know how the author compared him to Medlinger. The opening salvo had infuriated him enough.
Spearing Torres with a fierce look, he asked, “Who delivered it?”
“On my way to visit Darington, I passed a young Black woman walking on Lower Brooks Street. Later that afternoon, I saw her again, this time in St. James’s Park…sitting on a bench next to Hughes. She pulled an envelope from her reticule, placed it on the space between them, and then rose and strode away. I was instantly curious because from what I have seen, new chapbooks circulate once a week, almost always on Thursdays, which means the essays themselves are probably due that Tuesday if not Wednesday.” Torres gestured to the newest tract with his chin. “Is it a coincidence that issue was distributed today? I could be mistaken, but I highly doubt it. The young woman I saw was either the author or works for the author.”
Niall stabbed the tract with a finger. “Did you see if she went in or out of any house on Lower Brooks Street?”
Torres shook his head. “Unfortunately, I did not. I saw her only in passing, and noted her pretty face and nothing else.”
Rising to his feet, Niall stalked to the sideboard and pulled the stopper from a decanter of whisky with a bit too much force than was necessary. Pouring a healthy dram into two glasses, he offered one to Torres before he collapsed into his seat.
Taking a healthy sip, Niall held the liquor in his mouth as it burned his tongue, willing the sting to fortify him. Dropping the glass down on the desktop, he scrubbed a hand down his face.
“I understand only a small portion of your frustration, and if I had been paying better attention, we may have been able to put an end to this.” Torres tossed back the entirety of his glass with one gulp.
“How could you know the woman you passed by in the street could be responsible for wreaking havoc over Westminster?” Niall leaned back in his chair and planted his elbows on the armrest, tapping his carded fingers against his chin. “You’ve discovered a lead, and that’s the best anyone else has done.”
“Your praise embarrasses, my lord.” Torres huffed a laugh. “Do you want me to track down this woman?”
“I do,” Niall murmured, “and report back on what you find.”
The Spaniard nodded.
“What do you think are the odds this woman is the author?” he inquired as he leaned back in his chair.
“She very well could be,” Torres said with a shrug. “Whoever she is, I did not recognize her, and I’ve tried my best to know who is who in Society, if only to protect His and Her Grace of Darington’s interests.”
Niall puffed his cheeks on an exhale. “Right, well, perhaps she works with an insider who has a view of theton. Someone who haunts ballrooms and drawing rooms, plucking information and gossip where it’s available.”
“And there is plenty of gossip to parse nuggets of information from.”
He snorted. “You’re right about that.” Dropping his gaze to the newest treatise, Niall considered the writer’s words. “Do you suppose Medlinger is behind these? I know they haven’t necessarily been positive to his candidacy—”
“Or character,” Torres added.
Niall huffed a laugh. “Or that. But Medlinger is clever. If he could find a seemingly unbiased way to make himself seem like the better candidate, personal ethics aside, I think he would do it.”
The Spaniard ran a finger over the rim of his glass. “I agree that Medlinger is clever, but something about this feels truly impartial. The writer, whoever he…or I suppose she is, feels strongly about the arguments they’re making. Their passion is evident right there on the page. I don’t think anyone would accuse Medlinger of expressing this level of passion for any one issue.”
A true assessment. His opponent was a worthy candidate because he was even tempered and seemed more concerned about the smooth flow of government than he was about championing particular causes.
Rubbing a hand along his brow, Niall nodded. “So if not Medlinger, who? Who stands to benefit from these pointed critiques?”
Torres snorted. “I’m certain this anonymous writer would say the British people do.”
“Point taken,” he said with a chuckle.
“Well, whoever the real author is, what do you intend to do once I run this woman to ground?”
“I’ll put a stop to this,” he said, sweeping his hand across the scattered chapbooks, “once and for all.”
Chapter Six
The beginning notes of the waltz floated through the room, and Alicia’s emotions fluctuated between relief and indignation when she did not see Lord Inverray.
She had promised him this dance, but as discussion of her latest tract had circulated amongst the elegantly dressed guests in the Talbots’ brightly lit ballroom as fire spread through a field of dry wheat, she worried he would bring up the topic. Alicia was pleased people were responding to her essays, but wasn’t certain she wanted to discuss her newest one with the subject of her critique.
