Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(55)

‘I have never been so insulted in all my life!’ Truly the performance of an actress, just as he had said. ‘I will not even deign to reply to such scurrilous and ridiculous accusations.’

‘You may protest all you like, madam, and indeed I would expect nothing less from a woman like you. I might even believe you had I not seen you with my own eyes,’ he said. ‘From doxy to duchess in a few weeks. That is quite an achievement.’

‘Get out!’ She pointed to the door, showing all of her anger and none of her fear. ‘You can be very sure that I will inform the duke of your interest in the matter, Mr Smith.’

‘Please do, Mrs Marlbrook. And tell him also that although he was very careful in fabricating a cover for you, with Mrs Silver, Madame Boisseron and your landlord at Flower and Dean Street, there are always those in the background who are missed. He cannot catch every faceless soul upon the street, every witness to the truth. And you would be surprised at what some people are willing to do for money, Mrs Marlbrook. But then again, madam, perhaps not that surprised after all. I know quite conclusively that you are Miss Noir.’

‘You have a villain’s tongue in your head, sir! Be gone from here. I will not tolerate your presence for a moment longer.’

He cocked his head to the side. ‘Not even to hear what it is that I want in order to keep your secret from the newspapers?’

The fear was pumping through her veins, the scent of it filling her nose, the taste of it churning her stomach. Yet still she faced him defiantly, keeping up the pretence to the end. ‘Publish your lies if you will, Mr Smith. Now, leave my house, sir.’ She strode towards the door and, opening it, stepped out into the hallway, intending to have Mr Smith escorted out. And the sight of what greeted her eyes made her stop dead in her tracks and snatched all of the wind from her sails.

There was a light drumming in her head and she felt sick.

‘Mama?’ the little voice uttered quietly. For there, sitting on the floor at the side of the library door, his back leaning against the wall, playing cards spread out on the floorboards around him, was Archie. ‘Grandmama fell asleep again and I was bored waiting for you to return.’

‘Well, how very interesting,’ said the gentleman’s voice from directly behind her, although he had not yet crossed the threshold from the library. ‘You might not have a care how your own name is discredited within the newspapers, Mrs Marlbrook, but your son—and Arlesford’s, if I am not mistaken—well, I fancy that might be a different matter all together. Only think of the interest that the duke and his bastard will arouse. Even with Arlesford to smooth the way for him the boy would never completely escape the scandal. He, as well as you, would be the talk of the ton.’

Gemmell appeared just at that moment, barely concealing the scowl he directed at Mr Smith. ‘Madam?’ he enquired.

Somehow Arabella found the strength. She looked at Gemmell quite calmly. ‘If you would be kind enough to take Archie through to my mother, and see that he is entertained with a game of cards.’

‘Very good, madam. And shall I then return to escort Mr Smith out?’ He eyed the gentleman with disdain.

‘No, that will not be necessary, thank you, Gemmell. Mr Smith and I have not yet concluded our discussion.’ And, walking back into the library, she closed the door behind her.

‘What do you want?’ She faced him squarely, keeping her face as impassive as she could, although she knew full well that her disgust of him must have been blazing from her eyes. They stood as if they were two opponents in a fight, sizing one another up for strengths and for weaknesses.

‘For you to leave Arlesford. Break off your betrothal and go, I do not care where, as long as it is not London.’

‘Why should it matter to you whether I marry him?’

‘That is my business. You will not marry him, nor will you remain here as his mistress.’ He slipped a hand into his pocket and produced a cloth-wrapped package. ‘There is five thousand pounds here. Admittedly a good sum short of what Arlesford could give you, but enough to pay for your expenses to set up elsewhere and find yourself a new protector.’ He held out the package to her.

It was all she could do not to dash the package to the floor, such was her contempt for his offer. But she restrained herself and just turned away. ‘You are under a gross misapprehension as to my character, sir.’


‘I do not think so.’ He held the money out for just a moment longer, then, when he realised she had no intention of taking it, he sat it down on the closest table.

‘No one would print your lies. It is all of it an idle threat,’ she taunted, but even as she said it she knew that it was not. Just one whisper of his accusations would be enough. Once word of Archie was out, the press men would be peeping in their windows, stalking their every move. She could run their gauntlet, but she could not risk subjecting her son to any such torture.

‘I assure you most solemnly that I can have the story in print and on the front pages by Monday morning.’ He looked at her with an expression upon his face that told her what type of woman he thought her.

‘And do not think to go running to Arlesford with a tale of this meeting or of me. If he hears one word I will know and not only will I publish, but…well, let us just say that London can be a dangerous place, Mrs Marlbrook, even for a man such as Arlesford.’