Page 19 of The Undesirable Duke
Samuel walked quietly along the cobblestones, finding the narrow street which he recalled walking along, beside his father. His mother was never too pleased when Samuel had accompanied his late father to the printers, as she claimed that it was not the place for an impressionable young boy such as him. But Samuel had never been impressionable. He had strict morals which he complied with, and he was a more than upstanding gentleman, which made it very strange that thetonbelieved the lies which had been written of him. Clearly, thetondid not know him very well, or, perhaps, it was simply that they would believe anything that was written in the newspapers. If they had spent a day in his company, they would realize that what had been written about him was absolute lies.
As he turned the corner, the printers’ shop came into view, and luckily the doors were still open. A young man carried crates of papers into the shop, and Samuel quickened his step.
“Pardon me,” he called out.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Although the young man had not correctly addressed him, Samuel did not correct him. In fact, it was better that Samuel’s identity was not known to this man.
“I wish to make an inquiry.”
“Of what?”
“An article was published in your newspaper two fortnights ago, and I wish to know who the author was.”
“Follow me, sir.”
Samuel briefly eyed his surroundings before he nodded at the young man and followed him into the printing shop. Boxes and stacks of newspapers were randomly positioned on the floor and the counter and the candles flickered on the table nearby. The young man approached an older balding man with a stout build and a shirt that was much too tight.
“Good afternoon, sir. I am Mr. Charles Hunter, the owner of Lambeth Printers. How can I assist you today?” the man said to Samuel.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hunter. As I mentioned to this young man, an article was published in your newspaper. Is there any possibility of knowing who the writer was?”
“When was this?”
“It was two fortnights ago,” Samuel said and retrieved the article that Timothy had sent him from his breast pocket.
He handed the article to Mr. Hunter who adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his wide nose.
“Hm, I remember this. I was surprised that someone would write such things about a Duke. I’ve never personally heard of the man, but what was written was terrible.”
Samuel’s jaw clenched, and he nodded.
“It is enough to ruin his fine reputation. You do not perhaps remember the man who delivered the article to be published?”
“Let me check my books. The transaction must be noted. We do that for private articles.”
“That would be of great assistance. Thank you, sir.”
Samuel watched as Mr. Hunter rummaged around in the drawer in front of him and retrieved a thick book. He paged through the book rather roughly, scanning down the list of names written in it with ink-stained fingers.
“What was the date on the newspaper it was published in?
“November nine-and-tenth,” Samuel answered.
Mr. Hunter nodded and studied the book again.
“The only entry I have is on the previous day. John Smith.”
Samuel’s lips pursed and his jaw clenched. Unfortunately, that name did not mean much to him. It could be anyone since it was a very common name, which did not help Samuel a great deal. It was certainly not what he had expected to find.
“Do you recall anything about him? Anything significant?”
“I do not recall his face. He must have been particularly bland. But I did note in the book that he was full of juice.”
“And why do you say that?” Samuel inquired.
“He paid much more than our usual rate. Triple the amount, for that matter. He wanted to make sure that the article was published, I suppose.”
