A Gentleman Never Tells (Belmore Square #2) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction Tags Authors: Series: Belmore Square Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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I deflate, loathing the guilty feeling creeping up on me. ‘Clara, I––’

‘Don’t!’

‘What’s going on?’ Papa demands.

Clara, obviously remembering herself and where she is, backs down, much to my relief, for I would hate to further her dismay and be forced into sharing the unfortunate situation with our parents. Her little nostrils flare. ‘I just hate him.’

I wince, not relishing the thought of anyone hating me, especially one of my sisters, as Eliza moves to my side and rubs my arm reassuringly and Clara marches away.

‘Well,’ Mama says, blinking back her shock. ‘I don’t know what’s got into her!’

‘Me either,’ I murmur, shaking my head, wondering what that deep-rooted sense of guilt is all about. The stable boy wouldn’t be good enough for Clara even if our address wasn’t Belmore Square. I go to the table and top up my champagne, feeling parched.

‘So I am not the only person around here who hates you,’ Taya says, joining me, holding out her glass for me to fill.

I stare at it for a time, holding the bottle and my now full glass. To be hated isn’t a very pleasant feeling. I look up at Taya. Her small, smug smile drops when she sees what I expect is sadness in my eyes. ‘I must be going,’ I say, clearing my throat and setting the bottle and glass down. ‘Good day to you.’ I leave the house, put on my hat, and march across the square, each hit of my boots on the cobbles knocking her out of my head.

I reach number five and give the knocker two solid thwacks. Mr Simpson’s butler pulls the door open. ‘Mr Melrose,’ he says, nodding his respect. ‘How may I help you?’

‘I’m looking for Fleming, actually. I don’t suppose he is here, is he?’

‘Yes, I am.’ Fleming appears behind the butler, struggling to fasten the gold buttons of his jacket. ‘Let us walk to my carriage, I am late for a business meeting at …’ He hesitates and glances around. ‘Kentstone’s,’ he whispers.

A business meeting? Not at Kentstone’s, I can be sure of that. The only business that happens at Kentstone’s is of a seedy nature. ‘I believe we are on course,’ I say as we take the steps down from Mr Simpson’s house, but before we reach the bottom, Fleming stops suddenly and throws his arm out, stopping me too.

‘She’s quite a sort, that one, isn’t she?’

I frown and follow his line of sight, seeing Scarlett Dare breezing across the square. I don’t answer. ‘So, as I was say––’

‘And that one over there.’ He nods across the square, and I see Lizzy Fallow being escorted by Millingdale, or, more to the point, her escorting him, for the old goat can hardly walk.

‘Yes, indeed, now, if we could get back to––’

‘And that one, lord have mercy on my soul, would I like to bend her over.’

I sigh and follow Fleming’s line of sight to … Oh no. What is that heat in my veins? ‘I suggest,’ I say, seething, but my voice strong and warning, ‘you refrain from having such lurid thoughts immediately, or I’ll blacken your daylights.’ Shocked by my own outburst, I stare at Lady Taya Winters, who is rushing across the square, her loose hair wafting delightfully all over the place. She looks … distressed.

‘Excuse me?’ Fleming coughs his surprise.

‘Said her brother to me when I had my eye on her,’ I quickly add, shaking my head, reminding myself that this man is a means to an end, however vulgar he is. ‘He’s quite an animal, her brother.’

Fleming snorts. ‘I’d like to hear him warn me away.’

‘You really wouldn’t,’ I murmur, loving the thought of the wayward Duke pummelling this letch to death.

‘Pardon?’

‘Nothing.’ I start walking again, and Fleming follows. ‘As I was saying, I believe we are on course to striking a very lucrative deal. Just yesterday we sold sixteen thousand copies.’

Fleming pulls his fat body up into his carriage. ‘I heard your sister penned every article you ever put your name to.’

‘Well, not all, but a fair many, yes.’

‘But not now? Because, Melrose, I assure you, I have no interest in working with a woman. They’re good for only one thing, and it isn’t business.’

My God, he is disgusting. I feel as though I am selling my soul to the devil, just by talking to him, let alone doing business with the beast. But, I remind myself, national. Global!

‘Eliza is now married and with child.’

He nods, happy about that. ‘Twenty thousand. We’ll talk then. And the highwaymen, too.’ His lip curls and he roughly wipes at his massive nose. ‘Onwards!’ He slumps back in his seat and the carriage pulls away, leaving me feeling the pressure once more. Twenty thousand. Jesus, he’s right. Eliza has built her following. Nurtured it. Politics and religious claptrap have come second to the promises of entertainment from a compelling tale of betrayal, murder and scandal. I am starting from scratch and have the added burden of a new machine to pay for. Not to mention, I don’t appear to be anywhere close to actually discovering who the highwaymen are.



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