Free Blood for Ink (The Scarlet Plumiere Series #1) by L.L. Muir Page A

friends were prompt. Stanley and Harcourt laughed in surprise and Ash, being Ash, frowned.
    “You are not dressed,” Stanley said as he entered.
    “And neither are you!” North fidgeted like a school boy while their hats and coats were taken by Callister, then he led them up the stairs.
    “What are you talking about?” Harcourt trotted up behind him.
    North reached his own rooms and urged them inside. "We are going to set a new fashion, gentlemen.”
    “We are?” Stanley lined up with the other two and Chester came from the dressing room with a pile of red clothing.
    “Yes, we are.”
    Harcourt laughed as he was handed a red cravat and kerchief. "You could not have made this fashion statement on your own?”
    “Let’s just say I wish to make a louder statement than one man can make.”
    Ash sighed but made no complaint as he began tugging off his own cravat.
    After passing the scarlet items around, Chester retrieved a package from the dressing room and set it on the bed.
    Stanley pointed with his elbow while his hands were busy working a stickpin through the fabric at his neck.
    “What’s that?”
    “Another set.” North grinned and lifted his chin while Callister made a smarter shape of the red stuff beneath.
    “For whom?” Harcourt met North’s eyes in the mirror.
    “Beau Brummel.”
    Of course he’d been prepared to share Brummel’s participation in order to gain his friends’ cooperation, but his fellow Kings had capitulated without fuss. Their sudden inability to speak was rather gratifying, however.
    Finally, Ash spoke. “I would never complain, of course, but might I ask why we are making this fashion statement?”
    “To make her laugh,” he explained.
    “The Plumiere?”
    “Of course.”
    Harcourt snorted. “I will bet you a crown she will not be the only one laughing.”
    North sighed. “Does it matter?”
    “Not really, no.”
    Ashmoore studied North a bit too closely. “There must be something you are not telling us. You cannot seem to look me in the eye. A bad habit you have lately acquired.”
    North tipped back his head and grimaced. “Fine.” He looked at his dark friend. “I suppose I was hoping I might somehow recognize her laugh. Are you satisfied?” He then braced himself for ridicule.
    His three friends exchanged looks, then Ashmoore turned back to him. “We will accept that.”
    “You will?”
    “Of course,” said Harcourt, heading for the door. “It is not unlike the Cinderella story. Only you will search with a certain type of laughter in mind, instead of a shoe in hand.”
    Stanley followed next. “Your romantic side is showing, Harcourt. Beware not to let a woman hear you speaking of Cinderella and her slipper. You’ll be discovering shoes on your doorsteps every morning.”
    A moment later, they were descending the wide staircase when a footman came to the door—likely the most smartly dressed footman in all of England, actually. North handed the man the parcel.
    “Please be sure His Lordship understands how incredibly grateful I am for his participation tonight.”
    “I will, Your Lordship.”
    Callister held up Stanley’s coat for the viscount to don, obviously trying not to stare at the man’s necktie. While it did not clash with the black and white of his evening clothes, it did nothing whatsoever to improve it. But North wanted it that way. The more shocking the better.
    A brilliant idea, but it was hardly his own. Rather the credit belonged to both Brummel and Cookie. As unlikely as it seemed, it appeared the two thought along the same lines, that North should done his Scarlet finery and strut about the city. He was already prepared to wear the red stuff that night, but Brummel had called upon him with the same idea, adding an offer to join in the prank. North had merely allowed the famous man believe the idea had been his own.
    Resembling bandy roosters more than Kings, the four climbed into Ash’s carriage and headed off to the first of many