Chapter Five

Switching from the tram to an omnibus, and then walking several blocks around the outskirts of Bow Common, until she was satisfied that she wasn’t being followed, Kat proceeded down the last few streets to the warehouse that housed the printing press that produced The Bachelor Bounty Gazette, a publication dedicated to printing the secrets and scandals of the nefarious bachelors in Society.

Taking such a roundabout route was imperative to maintain the secret location of the Gazette, as was not using the Montrose carriage, which was far too recognizable, especially in such a neighborhood.

Her black boots made nary a sound on the cobblestone path as she turned onto Walker Street. In her plain and simple navy woolen skirt and jacket, she was easily able to blend in as just another young woman on her way to work in one of the factories. It was liberating in a way. Her station in life didn’t often allow those of her rank the freedom that women from other classes were allowed, though things were changing. Perhaps she should even get herself a bicycle, like she’d seen some women riding past on.

Pausing outside of the green side door to the warehouse, Kat glanced around. Satisfied she wasn’t being observed, she unlocked the door with her key and stepped into the building, closing and locking the door behind her. Immediately, the smell of ink and freshly cut paper enveloped her in its familiar and welcoming scent, as the voices of her two best friends in the world, Livie and Etta, travelled down the hallway from the office.

Excellent, they were both here, just as she’d expected them to be.

“Thank goodness you’re finally here!” Etta exclaimed from where she sat at her desk as Kat strode through the doorway into the office.

Looking over at her friend, who was dressed in a soft yellow and blue day dress that complemented her complexion perfectly, Kat could see the curiosity and questions all but radiating from Etta’s warm chocolate eyes.

“Yes, do tell us what happened last night. Were you successful? It was Livie who asked the question, her blue gaze intense as she pushed up from her own desk chair and stood, her extremely pregnant belly protruding in front of her.

Seeing her best friend pregnant was always unnerving for Kat. And each time she saw Livie of late, her belly looked like it had grown by a mile. Which meant the babe was probably due any day. Kat would choose a fight any day over Livie possibly going into labor any minute. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, resting?”

“You sound just as annoying as Sebastian!” Livie declared, settling her hands on her hips. “Can you believe he wants us to travel to our country estate and relax there for the final month of my confinement?”

“What an absolute monster,” Kat replied, completely straight faced as she swung her coat off and hung it on the peg behind the door, before turning to face her friends. “When do you go?”

Livie sighed. “Tomorrow. I can’t believe I let him convince me.”

“Please,” Kat scoffed. “The two of you convince each other to do things all the time. I’ve never seen a couple more in love. It’s rather nauseating. But a trip to the country sounds sensible.”

Livie’s eyes narrowed. “I shall remind you of that when your turn comes.”

“Good God, I’m never marrying and getting pregnant!”

“That is what I used to say, too,” Livie replied, a soft smile creeping across her face. “Until I fell in love with Sebastian.”

Kat noticed the slight flush that rose up Livie’s cheeks at the mention of her new husband, Sebastian Colver, or as he was more commonly referred to, the Bastard of Baker Street.

Her friend had been married for less than a year, after creating the scandal of the decade when she, a duke’s daughter, defied the edicts of Society and married not only a commoner but one of the most feared and notorious men in London. Sebastian was the bastard son of a duke, and a man who had grown up in the slums of London, eventually becoming the undisputed king of the Rookeries, not to mention one of the wealthiest men in England.

A man who despised the profligate members of the aristocracy on account of his father’s perfidy and had happily bankrolled their publishing venture to start an anonymous gazette dedicated to dishing the dirt on the disreputable bachelors in Society.

To say Kat received the shock of her life when she returned to England to discover her best friend was engaged to such a dangerous man was an understatement.

Probably why she’d overreacted slightly upon hearing the news and had immediately gone to Colver’s club to confront the fellow, disarming several of his men in the process, along with threatening Colver at knife point that if he was trifling with Livie or broke her heart in any way, he would answer to her.

“I still have high hopes that you both will meet the love of your lives, too,” Livie continued. “In any event, how did you go last night?”

Kat had sent them each a note yesterday, having to postpone her attendance with them to the Bentley soiree in order to retrieve the journal. There were few secrets between the women, and clearly both Etta and Livie wanted a full account of her evening, which would certainly be much more preferable than any more talk of love. “It didn’t go quite as expected.”

“Yet, there’s a gleam of anticipation in your eyes,” Etta murmured, her observation skills keen as usual. “Which I assume means you met with some success?”

Kat couldn’t help but smile at the two women. Both more like sisters to her than friends, ever since Kat had been forced to attend Mrs. Morrison’s finishing school when she was fourteen years old. And though Kat had fought against going, Victor had agreed with Daisy that it was well past time Kat learned the social skills required of her station.

And in the end, though she hadn’t wanted to spend three years at the school, it had been the best thing she could have done as she’d met her best friends there, women she would gladly give her life to protect.

“I had some success, yes,” Kat replied, glancing out the glass internal window of the office, into the main indoor space of the warehouse where the printing press stood gleaming in the middle of the room.

Mr. Whitbury and his assistants, who were usually busily buzzing about the contraption, preparing to print the publication for either the next edition or their advertising flyers, were absent. “Where are the men?” She needed them, after all.

“They went out to fetch some breakfast,” Livie replied with a wave of her hand. “But they’ll be back soon enough. So? Tell us what happened. Did you get the journal?”

Kat summed up her adventures of the night, which ended in both Etta and Livie exhibiting much the same expression as Daisy had. Shock. Though rather than the accompanying mortification that Daisy had displayed, Etta’s eyes brimmed with excitement, and Livie peered at her altogether too knowingly.

“I seem to remember you having a slight fascination with the man when you were a girl,” Livie said. “Something about how he was the handsomest man you had met?”

“I was fourteen. Any girl would be fascinated with a man as tall and muscular and as handsome as he was, and still is, I suppose.”

“Did you really fight Westwood and knee him in his nether regions?” Etta asked, her fingers tapping across the tabletop of her desk. “I know you’ve taught us that that region, along with the neck and eyes, are the best to target if we are attacked, but I just didn’t really think one would ever do it…”

“Well, I had to, and it was extremely effective.” Kat shrugged.

“I’m impressed,” Etta enthused. “And shall definitely keep such a move in mind, if I ever have need of it.”

“I’m glad someone was impressed, for Daisy certainly was not.”

“No, I imagine she would have been mortified,” Livie said as she sat back down.

They all stared at each other for a moment, before they burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you told her! Goodness, I wish I’d seen her face when you did,” Etta said. “I bet she was horrified.”

“Completely, though that’s not unexpected. When is Daisy ever pleased with my actions?” Kat said, her laughter subsiding as she sank down into her own chair at her desk across from Etta and Livie’s. Suddenly, she could feel every ache and bruise from last night with acute intensity. She wondered if Marcus was also feeling the effects of their encounter. Had he been thinking of her, as she’d been unable to stop thinking of him? “In any event, retrieving the journal has placed me a step closer to finding the Chameleon.”

“That’s wonderful! What did it disclose?” Livie asked.

Kat thought back to the words in the journal, words that painted a woeful tale of Westwood’s late wife, Elizabeth. Her vanity, her spite, her shallowness, her perfidy; all clearly evident from the woman’s own scrawls. What had also become obvious was that Lady Westwood had taken a lover, someone she had called ‘my Chameleon.’

And that could be no coincidence, particularly not when Westwood himself was one of the masters in the game of espionage. No, it was clear from the woman’s words that she was being manipulated by her lover for information on the earl’s dealings, yet the poor woman herself had no idea she was being bedded and used by one of Europe’s greatest assassins to do so.

No doubt the Chameleon was also the one to have stabbed Lady Westwood to death in her bed after one of their trysts, a fact carefully concealed from Society by the War Office. Even Daisy and Etta didn’t know the true circumstances surrounding her death, believing what the rest of Society did, that Lady Westwood succumbed to a fever whilst living abroad with Marcus.

But Kat knew the truth. Her informants had ensured that. After all, Victor had taught her that information was the truest source of power one could have, even more important than combat skills. And over the years, Kat came to realize how accurate his teachings were.

And Lady Westwood’s journal contained some interesting and scandalous information. No wonder Westwood wanted it back. But Etta and Livie didn’t need to know the specifics. Besides which, they weren’t Kat’s secrets to share.

“Suffice it to say,” Kat continued, “Westwood wants the journal for the same reason I do. He’s also hunting the Chameleon.”

“He could prove useful, then,” Etta mused. “Particularly a man with his skillset. Not to mention he is rather handsome on the eyes. Don’t you still think?”

Kat rolled her eyes as her friends grinned. “I have little interest in his effect on my eyes.” Even though he had haunted her dreams all night. The very thought of her breasts pressed against his chest was vivid in her mind. “But, yes, his skills could come in handy. He was trained by Victor, after all. And after reading the journal, I know I’m going to need his help.”

“You need his help?” Etta appeared even more shocked with this pronouncement of Kat’s. “But you hate asking anyone for help.”

She did, and it was going to be especially annoying to seek out the man that Victor had always remarked was his star pupil and ask for his assistance. But she had little choice in the matter. “In this case, I must.”

“Why?” There was curiosity rife in her friend’s expression.

“Because the Corinthian Club was mentioned in Lady Westwood’s journal, as a place where her lover attended regular business dealings.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that an assassin would have links to such a disgusting club.” Etta became incensed whenever the Corinthian Club was mentioned. They all took it as an insult that every time the Gazette announced which disreputable bachelors were going to be critiqued in the next month’s edition, the manager of the Corinthian Club would send each bachelor an invitation to become a member of the Club. It was an exclusive men-only club on Plymouth Street, home to as many vices and debauched entertainments as a man could possibly envisage.

And it was the only club Kat did not have a well-positioned informant in.

“No, it’s not a great surprise, but that’s why I need Marcus’s assistance. I need to get inside that club, find out what links the Chameleon has to it, and obtain their membership list.”

“I’m surprised Lord Westwood is a member of such a…um, unusual establishment.” Etta rubbed her chin. “He doesn’t strike me as the sort to enjoy those activities. He seems rather too proper for them.”

“He’s not a member,” Kat said. “Well, at least not yet, anyway. But he will be.”

Livie narrowed her eyes at Kat. “What are you intending to do, Kaitlyn Montrose?”

There was no escaping that Livie knew her better than even Etta. Kat smiled grimly. “We are going to list Westwood as one of the next bachelors the Gazette will be critiquing.”

Silence greeted her pronouncement, before Etta recovered her voice with alacrity. “We agreed when we started the Gazette that it was to be used to unmask nefarious bachelors!”

“We did,” Livie said. “In fact, its entire purpose is to stop other ladies from suffering the same fate as poor Alice did. We can’t use it to blackmail Westwood, even to assist you.”

Alice had been the fourth in their tight knit group from finishing school, until her murder last year, after having been seduced and then discarded by a scoundrel. Her death had been the catalyst for starting the Gazette, to name and shame the bachelors who thought it acceptable to use and abuse women, and hopefully prevent any other young ladies’ lives from being destroyed as Alice’s was.

“I have no intention of blackmailing him.” Kat frowned at the suggestion. “I simply need him listed so he receives an invitation to join the Corinthian Club.”

“Oh…” Etta shook her head morosely. “But if we list him, his reputation will suffer. And particularly after what he’s already endured with the whispers regarding the treachery of his brother… Do you think it wise?”

“Nathaniel was not a traitor!” Fury engulfed Kat with the suggestion.

“We know,” Livie placated. “But that’s what everyone else believes.”

“Everyone else is wrong.” She rarely spoke of Nathaniel, whom she had spent over four years training with after returning from finishing school when she was eighteen.

“Why did everyone whisper he was a traitor, then?” Etta asked.

“They say he fell in love with a Russian and was leaking British intelligence to her. Though I didn’t believe such a thing for a minute. The Nathaniel I knew would never do such a thing, even if he was in love.” The fight she’d had with Victor about it was probably one of the worst they’d ever had. Victor had believed the tale, whereas Kat never had. She was certain Nathaniel had been set up by his Russian love, or else by the true traitor. Victor had disagreed, saying all the evidence pointed to Nathaniel and that men did terrible things for love.

When the War Office tasked Victor with tracking Nathaniel down and bringing him back to England to face justice, Kat had refused to have anything to do with such a mission. A fact she still regretted, because if she had gone to Paris with Victor, perhaps she might have been able to save Nathaniel, and stop him from running into a burning building to save his love.

In the end, though, Victor had realized everything was too convenient in tying Nathaniel to the treachery of selling the government’s secrets and had come to regret his part in Nathaniel’s death.

The government had tried to limit any gossip from being released regarding Nathaniel’s apparent treachery, especially considering his father, the earl at the time, was a close friend of Prince Bertie. But that hadn’t stopped the whispers from spreading, even though nothing was confirmed or denied. Many said that when Nathaniel’s father died a few months later, it was from heartache over his youngest son’s death. Perhaps they were right.

That was when Marcus became the new earl. And, yes, Kat supposed listing him would suggest there were secrets in his past, which would put him firmly back in the spotlight. And though she loathed to do such a thing, what other choice did she have?

Without Marcus being listed, it was unlikely he would be sent an invitation to the Corinthian Club. And Kat needed someone in that club, specifically the manager’s office, which she knew from the limited information she’d gathered was always kept locked unless the manager himself was inside discussing membership with a potential member.

“I need Westwood listed.” She glanced up at both of them; Etta was biting her lip in concern and Livie was staring steadily at her. “I know it will create further gossip for him, but I can’t see any way to avoid it. At least not initially. Once he’s offered the invitation to the Corinthian Club, and we find what we need there, we can publish a retraction flyer outlining his virtues and making the public realize he is honorable.”

“It sounds like you intend to tell him of your involvement in the Gazette,” Livie said. “Is that wise, given we decided it is safer if no one else knows?”

She’d thought long and hard about the matter, and though she hadn’t seen Marcus in years, she believed she could still trust him. And finding the Chameleon was too important to play it safe on anything. “I don’t believe I’ll have to tell him. He has the skills, unlike others, to find out on his own who is behind it once he’s listed.”

“It will still have the same effect of him finding out,” Livie added.

“Are you certain, Kat?” Etta said. “I don’t think Westwood will be forgiving when he finds out you’re the one behind having him listed, even if you have no intention of having him critiqued…”

“Leave Westwood to me,” Kat said. “He wants the Chameleon as much as I do, though I daresay he plans to bring the man to justice instead of sending him to hell as I intend. In any event, I think Marcus is thick-skinned enough to weather a few glances and veiled comments, particularly if it means catching his quarry. And I do believe he will keep our secret.”

“If you feel this is the only way, then I’m with you,” Livie said.

“As am I,” Etta said. “Though I wouldn’t want to be you when Westwood finds out you’re behind it. The man might be handsome, but he’s intimidating, too.”

Kat heard the door open and close before seeing Whitbury and his two assistants trooping into the warehouse. “Perfect timing. How long until we can get a flyer printed and distributed, announcing his name being added to those critiqued next month?”

“After lunch, perhaps?” Etta answered, sounding somewhat dubious about the project.

“Excellent.” In a few hours, all of London would know the Earl of Westwood was listed as one of the next targets of the Bachelor Bounty Gazette, which should mean he’d receive an invitation to the Corinthian Club by nightfall. “All will be fine. I know it.” She turned to Livie. “Will your husband distribute the leaflets within his clubs? It’s imperative word spreads as quickly as possible.”

“Of course he will,” Livie said. “I don’t know if you realize it, but Sebastian has a soft spot for you after you threatened him with a knife.” Livie must’ve seen the look of bewilderment on her face with that fact because she shrugged. “What can I say? Apart from myself, you’re the only other person to have ever stood up to him. He admires such a trait.”

“Your husband is unlike most men,” Kat said. Because only the Bastard of Baker Street could have a soft spot for someone who confronted him at knifepoint.

“I do hope your plan works,” Etta said, an expression of reluctant acceptance and hope jostling over her features. “Westwood isn’t the sort of man I’d wish to evoke anger in, and one can only imagine what his reaction will be when he finds out he’s been named to be critiqued. I, for one, certainly wouldn’t wish to be in the Earl’s crosshairs.”

“But that is exactly where I want to be.” Kaitlyn smiled.

Let the game begin.