Free Sexual Hunger by Melissa Macneal

Lord Darington and his younger son set out to locate Jason while Father Stoutham assured the guests all would be well.
    WELL, indeed! The guests erupted in disbelief when Lord Darington canceled the ceremony! Then, an albino ferret scampered down the aisle and up a guest’s skirts, causing the crowd to disperse in hasty, shrieking dismay. One can only imagine the bride’s devastation, her concerns about her groom and her future. Yet her dignified grace under such scrutiny and pressure impressed this columnist so deeply that I am moved to depart from my usual juicy fare to lend my assistance.
    Maria paused, her pulse pounding with the sheer nerve of what she was about to do. But damn it all, if Miss Crimson couldn’t come to the distraught Miss Palladino’s aid, who could? Who would ?
    I implore you, Dear Readers: anyone knowing details of Jason Darington’s disappearance would be performing an act of tremendous generosity by informing me of his whereabouts! It’s quite plausible he’s ill or injured, unable to get word to his beloved Maria. Please submit any information to me in care of the Inquirer, as soon as possible, and I will see that this beleaguered bride and the Darington family receive your assistance. Something is gravely amiss, and we must use the power of the press to hasten Jason’s return. Thank you so very much for your understanding and cooperation!
    There, she’d done it! Maria stepped into the plain dark skirt she wore while delivering her columns, and then paused. The town house was silent, except for the delicate ticking of her mantel clock, but what if Mrs. Booth and Quentin were hovering in the hallway, peering through the keyhole? If she allowed the servants to stop her now, what did that say about her devotion to Jason? To the life she’d hoped to share with him?
    Maria slipped into her charcoal cloak and pulled the hood up over her hair. She paused outside her door to listen, chose the main stairway as the most direct route to the door, and within moments she was hurrying along the side streets. As she avoided the light from the gas lamps, she again realized how much more difficult her secret occupation would become once she became Jason’s wife.
    We’ll worry about that when the time comes , a voice much like Miss Crimson’s echoed in her head. And who knew when that would be? All she could do was move along this path she had chosen, hoping it would lead her to the man she intended to marry. She blinked away Rubio’s visions of dark, boundless water and Jason’s disoriented expression, slipped the envelope containing tomorrow’s column into the mail slot of the Inquirer ’s door, and then hurried along the buildings’ shadows again, back to the town house.
    Had she done the right thing? Or had she asked for more trouble?
    Too late to worry about that! The wheels are set in motion…and please know I’ve done this for YOU, my dear Jason. I love you! So please, please come home to me!

7
    “N ever in my life have I felt so—exposed! Hung out to dry, like so much dirty laundry!” Lady Darington spewed. Then she grasped Jemma’s hands and peered into her daughter’s red-rimmed eyes. “Mark my words, darling! We shall hold the Inquirer responsible for such—such irresponsible gossip! And when I learn the identity of that vile, hateful Miss Crimson, I intend to tear her limb from limb! And you may watch!”
    “Oh, I intend to help you, Mumsy!” Jemma gushed. “Such slander—such a slight !—shall not go unanswered, so help me God!”
    Maria perched on her chair in the parlor, holding her face expressionless. While she was not surprised at this outburst, she again wondered if she’d done the right thing last night and if other readers would share Dora Darington’s outrage. Had she inadvertently endangered Jason by publishing her plea for help? Would she find an irate note from the editor in her postal box, informing her Miss Crimson’s column would be cut? This visit was a