Page 86 of The Counterfeit Scoundrel
“He didn’t have to do it by sending us to a brothel,” he grumbled. He was still rather embarrassed and upset that Bishop had forced him into such a scandalous place when inviting them to dinner might have served just as well to get them talking again.
She smiled because she’d quite enjoyed the wickedness of such a disreputable excursion. “But think how much we will laugh about it in a few years’ time.”
“I can’t see myself ever laughing about it.”
However, she was rather certain that someday he would. For the moment, however, she was more concerned about Bishop. “Martin, I saw the way he looked at her each time she entered his bedchamber. As though the sun had suddenly burst forth from behind gloomy clouds to brighten the day. Do we not owe him for our present happiness? Should we not try to return the favor?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Martin Parker have come to call.”
As a rule, Bishop despised interruptions when he was striving to pen a letter to his man of affairs because it required a precision that ensured the gent knew exactly what was required of him to meet his employer’s exacting standard. Although he’d finally finished the letter regarding his instructions for theship and sent it off, he had other matters with which they needed to deal. But at the moment, he welcomed the arrival of his guests. Truth be told, he missed his time with Louisa Parker. If anyone understood his current plight, it would be her, and he’d considered asking for her advice regarding his most recent thinking. Not that he was going to ask anything of her with her husband hovering about.
However, he was most curious regarding the reason for their visit. Maybe their reconciliation had taken a nasty turn and they’d decided to move forward with the divorce, and he needed once again to pretend to be her lover. But after he’d sent Perkins to fetch them and the butler escorted them into the room, Bishop knew no divorce was going to be forthcoming. They walked in as a united front, her all smiles and happiness, him proud and protective.
Bishop felt a satisfaction for his role in their reuniting as well as a pang of what suspiciously resembled envy. It was not an emotion with which he was accustomed to dealing. Still, he stood, knowing they required something of him. It was the only reason anyone—other than the Chessmen—visited. They needed his assistance in some way. “How may I be of service?”
“We saw in the newspapers the account of your recent trouble, you being suspected of murder,” Louisa said.
“It reached a satisfactory resolution. No need to worry there.”
“The gossip rags are speculating that Miss Townsend might have been unable to resist the lure of your charms.”
He’d seen the gossip sheets. Part of the reason he was having troubling finding the words to write to his man of affairs was that he was constantly contemplating the words he needed to write to the editors of every publication in London regarding the ludicrousness of Marguerite being involved with him. She needed a sterling reputation to ensure she attracted clients and could continue doing something she not only loved but was incredibly good at it. However, he also needed to ensure he wasn’t protesting so much that he added weight to the rumors and made them believable. “I intend to sort it.”
“We thought we might be able to help.”
“Louisa—”
“Hear us out.”
With a nod, he swept his arm toward a sitting area. “Would you like to make yourselves comfortable? Shall I send for tea, or can I offer another libation?”
“No, thank you,” Louisa said. “I don’t think we’ll be long.”
The couple settled on the settee, sitting so their hips and thighs touched, his fingers intertwined with hers. It was difficult to reconcile that at one point they’d wanted to go their separate ways. Bishop lowered himself to the opposite chair.
“Do you recall when I mentioned something about how London Society likes nothing better than a good rake reformation story?” Louisa asked.
“I’m not going to reform.”
“Not even to save Miss Townsend’s reputation?” Parker asked sharply.
“If I stay away from her, it will give no credence to the gossip and it will all die down.”
“Do you wish to stay away from her?” Louisa asked.
“That is beside the point.”
“Do we need to arrange for the two of you to share a room together in a brothel?”
He laughed, thinking about what happened the last time they were in a room together in a brothel. “Absolutely not.”
“Whether or not you want to be viewed as reforming or wish to see her is beside the point. What Martin and I have discussed, however, is a need for more women to be helped. His very first shop is rather small. It is comprised of a series of rooms that served as a demarcation for each department. But now that he has the larger stores, the first is used as a warehouse of sorts. We thought we could donate the smaller shop to your cause. You could oversee the administration of it or hire someone to manage the task. With the addition of doors and furniture, the building could become a haven for women in want of refuge. We could have solicitors available to advise them. In the process, you would become Society’s darling.” She smiled. Sweetly. Innocently.
Bishop shifted his attention to Parker. “I can’t believe you’d want to remain with this conniving wench.”
“Love does tend to make fools of us men.”
With a tiny huff, she slapped playfully at his arm. “Martin!”
