readers,” he said dryly. “Those who will admit to reading it and those who will not admit to reading it. That is especially true since I. M. Phantom’s pieces began appearing. I offer you my sincere congratulations, Mrs. Bryce. You have managed to astound Society on a number of occasions with your revelations of scandal in high places.”
She felt a sudden need to defend herself. “I am not interested in scandal solely because of the sensation it will cause. It is a desire to see justice prevail that motivates me, sir.”
He cocked a quizzical brow. “Justice?”
“Too often people who move in elevated social circles abuse their positions of privilege and power. They take advantage of those who are weaker than themselves knowing full well that it is unlikely that they will pay for their crimes.”
“I see. You feel called upon to mete out justice by exposing such people?”
“There is little else that can be done.” She widened her hands. “Everyone knows that it is virtually impossible for Scotland Yard to conduct an investigation in the Polite World. All the doors are closed, and there is no way to open them. You said yourself, there was no chance that the police would ever be able to search Hastings’s house.”
“True. Nevertheless—”
“Thanks to Emma I find myself in a unique position,” she continued. “I am able to circulate in some of the best social circles without calling attention to myself.”
He glanced at Emma.
Emma poured more tea. “It has been interesting, I must say.”
“I wish to make it plain that I pride myself on accuracy,” Louisa said firmly. “I always investigate quite thoroughly before I write my reports. The last thing I want to do is cause pain or humiliation to an innocent person.”
“Enough.” Anthony raised a hand, palm out. “I do not doubt your zeal or your intentions, Mrs. Bryce.”
She dared to relax slightly.
“I have been wondering how you came by your information,” he continued. “Can I assume that, as a member of the press, you have informants?”
“Yes,” she said, cautious again.
“I would like to know the name of the person who put you onto Hastings’s trail.”
She pondered that for a moment. Miranda Fawcett enjoyed her role as a behind-the-scenes source of secrets for a newspaper correspondent. She could no doubt be persuaded to aid Anthony in his investigation, provided she could be convinced to trust him.
“My informant might agree to assist you,” she said, “but I make no guarantees.”
Veiled anticipation leaped in Anthony’s eyes. “I understand.”
Louisa clasped her hands. “Let me make myself very clear, sir,” she said coolly. “This conversation will end here and now if you do not agree to make me a full partner in this affair.”
His eyes tightened dangerously at the corners. “I do not think that would be wise, Mrs. Bryce.”
“I do not think that you have any choice, Mr. Stalbridge.”
10
Ten minutes later he went down the steps of Number Twelve, crossed the street, and started through the small park in the center of the square. He was not in what anyone would term a pleasant mood.
Louisa was a correspondent for the Flying Intelligencer. That piece of information had come out of nowhere, blindsiding him. He had never heard of a female reporter, let alone one who did her work from inside exclusive circles.
Astounding as her career was, it did explain much of what had made him curious in recent days, including her secretive forays in the Wellsworth and Hammond households and her interest in Hastings. It also explained the unfashionable gowns, the spectacles, and the boring conversation at every social event she attended. Louisa had gone to great lengths to make certain that people did not take any notice of her. Like it or not, however, she was going to lose some of her precious anonymity now that her name was linked with his. He wondered how she would deal with that.
He
She felt a sudden need to defend herself. “I am not interested in scandal solely because of the sensation it will cause. It is a desire to see justice prevail that motivates me, sir.”
He cocked a quizzical brow. “Justice?”
“Too often people who move in elevated social circles abuse their positions of privilege and power. They take advantage of those who are weaker than themselves knowing full well that it is unlikely that they will pay for their crimes.”
“I see. You feel called upon to mete out justice by exposing such people?”
“There is little else that can be done.” She widened her hands. “Everyone knows that it is virtually impossible for Scotland Yard to conduct an investigation in the Polite World. All the doors are closed, and there is no way to open them. You said yourself, there was no chance that the police would ever be able to search Hastings’s house.”
“True. Nevertheless—”
“Thanks to Emma I find myself in a unique position,” she continued. “I am able to circulate in some of the best social circles without calling attention to myself.”
He glanced at Emma.
Emma poured more tea. “It has been interesting, I must say.”
“I wish to make it plain that I pride myself on accuracy,” Louisa said firmly. “I always investigate quite thoroughly before I write my reports. The last thing I want to do is cause pain or humiliation to an innocent person.”
“Enough.” Anthony raised a hand, palm out. “I do not doubt your zeal or your intentions, Mrs. Bryce.”
She dared to relax slightly.
“I have been wondering how you came by your information,” he continued. “Can I assume that, as a member of the press, you have informants?”
“Yes,” she said, cautious again.
“I would like to know the name of the person who put you onto Hastings’s trail.”
She pondered that for a moment. Miranda Fawcett enjoyed her role as a behind-the-scenes source of secrets for a newspaper correspondent. She could no doubt be persuaded to aid Anthony in his investigation, provided she could be convinced to trust him.
“My informant might agree to assist you,” she said, “but I make no guarantees.”
Veiled anticipation leaped in Anthony’s eyes. “I understand.”
Louisa clasped her hands. “Let me make myself very clear, sir,” she said coolly. “This conversation will end here and now if you do not agree to make me a full partner in this affair.”
His eyes tightened dangerously at the corners. “I do not think that would be wise, Mrs. Bryce.”
“I do not think that you have any choice, Mr. Stalbridge.”
10
Ten minutes later he went down the steps of Number Twelve, crossed the street, and started through the small park in the center of the square. He was not in what anyone would term a pleasant mood.
Louisa was a correspondent for the Flying Intelligencer. That piece of information had come out of nowhere, blindsiding him. He had never heard of a female reporter, let alone one who did her work from inside exclusive circles.
Astounding as her career was, it did explain much of what had made him curious in recent days, including her secretive forays in the Wellsworth and Hammond households and her interest in Hastings. It also explained the unfashionable gowns, the spectacles, and the boring conversation at every social event she attended. Louisa had gone to great lengths to make certain that people did not take any notice of her. Like it or not, however, she was going to lose some of her precious anonymity now that her name was linked with his. He wondered how she would deal with that.
He
Similar Books
