Free One Night in London by Caroline Linden Page A

papers, there wasn’t much that could catch her interest . . .
    Except for what was printed.
    Francesca read the opening lines in shock, then snatched it up for a closer examination. It was Gregory Sloan’s gossip sheet, which was so often wrong it was only suitable for kindling. He paid outrageous money for the most salacious rumors, and then rushed them into print, often without any effort to substantiate them. She wasn’t even sure why she subscribed to it. But there, in bold black print, was the heartless and aristocratic Edward de Lacey’s name.
    THE DURHAM DILEMMA , it read across the top of the page. “Rumors are swirling about town that the late Duke of Durham may have left his sons an unexpected, and much unwanted, inheritance,” the story began.
The duke, who died only a week ago, contracted a secret marriage several decades ago. One can only wonder why it was kept so secret until now, when the dukedom and all its wealth are poised in the balance. Perhaps because that marriage was still lawfully binding when the duke married his duchess? Perhaps because all three Durham sons would be totally disinherited if it were discovered? But it seems the Durham sons are not unaware of this dark secret. Lord Gresham, the eldest—and perhaps future duke—has taken to his bed and not been seen in over a week. Lord Edward de Lacey is suddenly and unexpectedly in town, consulting solicitors. Surely the appearance of Augustus de Lacey, the cousin who would be heir presumptive, cannot be far off. And one can only wonder what society will make of this dreadful dilemma . . .
     
    The piece went on, wandering into ever more incendiary suppositions, but Francesca’s mouth had fallen open by the third sentence. Her mind whirled. Well, that certainly explained why Lord Edward summoned Wittiers. She had expected it was some ordinary matter of money or property. This was far more serious, involving not only money and property but his standing in society and the life he had been born to expect, to say nothing of his very name. Of course, she was doubtful even James Wittiers could argue a dukedom from someone else’s grasp if there were evidence it rightfully belonged to that person, but in Lord Edward’s place, she would have used every leverage at her disposal to secure Wittiers’s services, too.
    And perhaps . . . She eyed the size of the letters screaming across the front page. She thought of Sloan, tall, big, loud, and hawk-eyed. If this edition sold well, he’d print more about this Durham dilemma tomorrow, and the day after. If Lord Edward had ever looked crossly at his scullery maid, Sloan would probably have her sad story in his paper by the end of the week.
    Perhaps that handed her a bit of leverage as well.
    She jumped up from the table and gave a hard pull on the bell rope. “Mrs. Hotchkiss, I must go out,” she said when the housekeeper hurried in. “Immediately.”
    “I’ll send Mr. Hotchkiss for the horses at once,” replied the woman, startled. “Will you be changing?”
    Francesca looked down at her comfortable morning dress. “Oh, goodness, yes. I want to look breathtaking. I’ve just gotten a second chance with Edward de Lacey!”
    It was barely an hour later that her carriage turned once more into Berkeley Square. The facade of the Durham residence looked even more imposing under the roiling black clouds above, but today she walked sedately up the steps and rapped the knocker, firmly but not nearly as hard as her heart was pounding behind her ribs.
    This time she told the butler it was imperative that she speak to Lord Edward on a matter related to their conversation the previous day. She held her breath, hoping that Lord Edward hadn’t told his servants not to admit her again, and when they did so, she switched to hoping he would agree to see her. By the time she was shown into the same blue room to wait, her stays felt way too tight and she had to clasp her hands together to keep from wringing