Page 16 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“Is there any truth to it? Ah, but that’s a ridiculous question, isn’t it?

Those writers are callous creatures who have been known to bend the truth.

And after what happened between you and the Miss Pembroke at the Assembly Rooms,” he laughed, “it seems highly unlikely that you would even consider?—”

“Margaret Pembroke was at Somerstead Hall alone with me,” Alexander confessed. “That detail, at least, is founded in fact.”

Bastian froze, lips parting in surprise. “Right then.”

“But this drivel they have written is beyond the pale.” Alexander flipped open the newspaper again, stabbing it with his finger.

“An intimate liaison at the ancestral seat of Somerton. A lover’s spat at the Salisbury Assembly Rooms , that turned into a midnight reconciliation of the most intimate degree .

..?” He closed it again and looked around, aghast. “It is complete nonsense. Nothing untoward occurred between Margaret and me. My driver found her stranded in a storm. It was only logical to bring her to Somerstead Hall and save her life.”

“Do you suspect Miss Pembroke herself brought the story to the press?” Bastian suggested with a frown, coming to sit on the opposite side of the desk. He leaned over to open the drink’s cart and grabbed a bottle of brandy.

Alexander glanced up and paused to think.

“I had not considered such a thing until you mentioned it. But it seems a foolish tactic on her part, don’t you think?

When last I spoke to Miss Pembroke, she admitted she was returning to London to accept an offer of marriage.

No... She would not sabotage herself in this manner. ”

And beyond what was logical, Alexander didn’t believe Margaret was the type of woman who would betray him like this. Bastian’s hand appeared in the periphery of his vision with a drink, and Alexander downed it, despite it still being early.

“I do not want to believe that there is a snake among my staff – but excepting Carlisle and the woman who hosted Miss Pembroke in Wiltshire, no one else knew of her house stay. Neither of them had any reason to contact the press. Carlisle would not embroil us in a scandal, and Margaret’s friend, Lady Jane. ..”

“Lady Jane? I have an aunt who is quite close with her. She is a most social and polarizing woman,” Bastian said when Alexander trailed off, taking a sip from his brandy.

“Perhaps she thought that she could trap you and Miss Pembroke in a marriage to save the young girl. It would not be the first time such a thing has happened.”

Alexander shook his head softly, warmth creeping up his neck from the drink. The acrid taste of the brandy had coated his mouth, a pleasant but temporary distraction from the thoughts whirling in his head.

Under normal circumstances, his feature in the scandal sheets would have been laughable.

But Alexander couldn’t afford to have the whole ton watching him to see how the scandal with Margaret would progress.

He had come to London in hopes of following up on Ripley’s note, far from the watchful eye of Carlisle, where he could settle into his usual routine and continue his investigation without scrutiny.

And with this newest development – with an actual, living sibling waiting for him in Bromley – the shadow of such a scandal could have devastating consequences.

Isadore would meet him and consider him a rake.

The ton would see his bastard sister and paint her with the same brush.

Until this mess with Margaret was resolved —if it ever was —Ripley's latest information would have to wait. Alexander closed his eyes to suppress his rising frustration – at the writers at The Morning Post , at Margaret, at himself.

Just when I was so close to finding you...

“You have featured more than I have,” Alexander said, referencing the sheets. “Tell me how a man should navigate this situation to bring it quickly to term.”

Bastian looked like he was about to laugh, before thinking better of it.

“Our exposés are hardly comparable. They have only written that I was a jilted lover, making me look quite sympathetic. The story of you is of an entirely different nature. You would be a fool to believe that the ton will quickly lose interest in this tale, considering Miss Pembroke’s situation and her recent betrothal.

They will hang onto this until Miss Pembroke is married at least.”

“Married to Lord Faversham?”

“Well, yes. Assuming he still wishes to marry her after he learns of her would-be ruin.”

“And if he does not?”

Bastian looked at him sympathetically – an idea glimmering in his hopelessly romantic eye.

“Now you have lost your mind,” Alexander protested.

“It is something to consider,” Bastian said. “But I would keep my distance for now. Allow the shock of the scandal to dissipate on its own. Do not go to Miss Pembroke. Do not add fuel to the fire.”

Alexander looked down at the pocket watch on his desk. He might have agreed, once, but the seconds were ticking by...

And his once indefatigable patience had all but run out.