Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“ T here is the Duke.”

With every step that Samuel took around Mayfair, members of the ton whispered not so subtly as he passed by. It was becoming very much an annoyance to him, and ignoring them was not an option any longer.

Rather than direct his anger at them, he restrained himself and made a clever decision. He knew that the newspaper the article was published in was printed by a printing shop in Lambeth, as he had visited the shop often as a child. His father had used the printers for his business purposes, but Samuel had not been there in many years. Nevertheless, he still remembered where it was located, and ordered his coachman to steer the carriage in that direction.

From inside the carriage, he watched as the streets of London passed him by. As they traveled to a different part of town, the view from his window changed rather suddenly, as soon as the carriage crossed Lambeth Bridge. He was no longer in the upper-class part of town, and while Lambeth was perfectly respectable for him, as a gentleman, to stroll around in, it was certainly not a place for young women.

A smile appeared on Samuel’s face as he thought of the young woman with the golden hair who he had saved from falling in Mayfair. The young lady had certainly made an impression on him, and he was unable to get her out of his mind. He was not certain how he would find her again, although he found that he wished to, but he had enough to deal with at present, and could not search for a golden-haired young lady as well as for the writer of the article.

Perhaps he should consider staying in London longer.

Once the carriage came to a halt, Samuel stepped down and inhaled sharply of the cold air. According to his knowledge, the printers were only a short distance from where his carriage had stopped, and he could walk the rest of the way.

“I will not be long,” he said to his coachman, who nodded in response.

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 the ton believed the lies which had been written of him. Clearly, the ton did 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.”

“He certainly did.”

Samuel was rather irate that his journey to Lambeth had turned out to be such a fruitless endeavor. He had hoped that he could track down the person who had provided the article to be published, or at least find out what that person’s name was. But he had underestimated the writer of the article. He had used a name that was so common that there was no way to identify him accurately. It also might not have been the writer himself who had visited the printers. Perhaps he had paid someone to take the article to the printers and given him more than enough coin to compensate for the inconvenience and the short notice.

“I am sorry that I cannot be of more help, sir.”

Mr. Hunter handed the article back to Samuel and Samuel placed the folded paper back into his pocket.

“Do you perhaps have the original article?”

“Unfortunately, we do not keep the original writings for more than a fortnight, sir.”

Samuel lowered his gaze for a moment and balled his fists. Every idea that he had was immediately terminated by Mr. Hunter, and it was utterly frustrating. His questions were not being answered the way he wanted them to be, and he was running out of options.

How was he supposed to catch this person?

“Thank you, Mr. Hunter. I appreciate the information.”

Samuel turned on his heel and hastily left the printers, grumbling to himself. He had hoped that he would find out more about the writer, but the only thing that he had learned was that the person was fairly flush in the pockets. But, of course, that did not narrow it down, as many wealthy people in London could have funded this.

Samuel walked briskly along the cobblestone streets back to his carriage, his mind in a befogged state. He was beginning to be angered by the unanswered questions that tumbled through his thoughts, and he was not certain what to do. There was no way of knowing who the writer was, and he felt rather annoyed.

“Yarmouth?”

Samuel spun around in surprise and was relieved to see Lord Timothy standing beside his carriage. He certainly did not need anyone to see him in Lambeth, especially not given the circumstances. Behind Lord Timothy, the Colborne family carriage stood, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Colborne,” Samuel nodded and approached his friend.

“What on earth are you doing this side of the Thames?” Lord Timothy asked.

“I visited the printers of the newspaper in an attempt to find the person who wrote the article, or at least to find the person who handed the article to the printers to be published.”

“And?” Lord Timothy asked apprehensively.

“Nothing. All the man was able to tell me was that the man was fairly flush in the pockets.”

Lord Timothy shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“But that could be anyone.”

“I realize that.”

“That is a pity.”

“Indeed. But I am determined not to give up. I cannot allow this man to ruin my reputation the way that he is,” Samuel said and drew in a deep breath.

“But how will you find him?”

“I am not certain. I am, however, growing increasingly agitated by this. What gives this man the right to drag my name through the mud for his enjoyment? How dare he think that he can get away with this?”

Lord Timothy placed his hand on Samuel’s shoulder and slowly uttered, “Calm yourself, my friend. We will find out who did this, I promise you that.”

“You will assist me?”

“Indeed I will, but you must remain calm. There is no point in you upsetting yourself.”

Samuel pursed his lips and turned to Timothy.

“What would you suggest we do?”

“First of all, we need to get you back to Mayfair. This is certainly not the sort of place you wish to be seen, given the rumors that are spreading through Town of your supposed indiscretions.”

“Although they are untrue,” Samuel muttered, but it was of no use.

People would think of him what they wished, and there was nothing he could do about it. Finding the person responsible was the only way to restore his reputation.

Lord Timothy patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“We will restore your reputation and find the person responsible for those rumors.”

“Thank you, Colborne. What are you doing here, if I may ask?”

“I was looking for you, of course. Your housekeeper said you took the carriage, and I realized that you must be on the hunt.”

On the hunt, Samuel thought with bland amusement.

“Not a very successful hunt, I might add.”

“Perhaps you need some distraction,” Lord Timothy said.

“What do you suggest?” Samuel asked.

“Have dinner with me and my family this evening. It would be delightful having you at Welsford House.”

“And what of your mother? Surely she is aware of the rumors of me.”

Timothy smiled with reassurance.

“Do not fret. I have already mentioned it to my mother, and she agreed.”

“Are you certain? I do not wish to upset your mother or your family. I also do not wish to harm your family’s good name with my sordid reputation,” Samuel sighed and stepped back.

“You and I both know that the rumors are not true and, once my family meets you, they will know it as well. After all, my parents haven’t seen you since that one time shortly after we finished at Oxford.”

“Regardless, my presence will only-”

“I will not take no for an answer,” Lord Timothy interjected. “It would be an honor to have you join us for dinner. You can even meet my sister.”

Samuel was surprised at this new information.

“You have a sister, Colborne?”

“Indeed, I do.”

“Is she as outspoken and persistent as you are?” Samuel asked jokingly.

“Even more so.”

The Duke chuckled and finally gave in to his friend.

“I would love to join you and your family for dinner.”

Lord Timothy smiled happily at him, but Samuel could not help but feel tense at the thought of the rumors about him that would potentially cause harm to the Colborne family. He was the brother he’d never had, and he would not forgive himself if he ruined their reputations. Lord Timothy had been nothing but accommodating and kind to Samuel and the best friend he could have asked for. Despite not spending as much time with one another as Samuel would have liked, their letters to one another in Samuel ‘s absence had managed to close the gap between the two friends. And the moment that Samuel had set foot in London, their friendship had resumed as if no time had passed.

Admittedly, Samuel was nervous about meeting Lord Timothy’s family, not knowing how they would react if they were to see him, but he did look forward to meeting Timothy’s sister.