Miss Watson's First Scandal (Miss Mayhem 1)

For his part, Peter appeared highly embarrassed. He refused to meet David’s eye. “He’ll come around eve

ntually,” he mumbled.

“What my brother thinks is not for discussion. This is what I want.”

David listened to Imogen’s surprisingly steady voice with growing concern. He had written several documents for clients before, so he knew exactly what the contract should entail and none of her requests were challenged by Peter. But the things left out of the conversation troubled him.

“I’ll make copies after you’ve gone and will deliver them to your home as soon as possible.” He glanced at Miss George. “Valentine Radley can keep a secret, Miss George. He would make a good witness if you are agreeable.”

She nodded slowly. “I suppose the secret cannot remain so forever.”

“What secret?” Peter Watson asked, glancing between them.

David caught Imogen’s eye and saw the plea in her expression. She didn’t know how to tell him. She’d kept the secret so close for so long she appeared to be without words. How would K.L. Brahms’ greatest admirer take the news that the author was the woman whom he would marry?

He picked up his papers and shuffled them until they were neat. “As you may be aware, I have been privy to Miss George’s business dealings for some years. As her banker, I have intimate knowledge of the source of her funds.”

Peter nodded. “Of course. Her aunt left her money some years ago.”

David shook his head. “That isn’t true. We at the bank have worked very hard to keep the real source of her wealth, and the fact that Miss George is in fact an heiress, a secret from society and her friends. I trust you, too, will act with the utmost discretion. After all, if word got out after you were married you might find yourselves in an uncomfortable position socially.”

Peter glanced around the room, panic clear on his face. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Watson.” David gestured to Miss George. “I have the honor of introducing you to K. L. Brahms.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He looked at Miss George, at David, and then back to Miss George again—his expression one of utter disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am indeed serious,” David assured him. “You know me. I would never lie about such an important matter. Miss George is the author of the works you admired so much the other evening.”

Miss George met David’s gaze and shrugged. “I knew it was too much to hope for. Thank you for your time, Mr. Hawke. I should like to speak with you about another matter when you deliver the papers.”

He stood. “Anything for you.”

Miss George stood. She swept her gaze over the man still seated at her side, and then quit the room. David followed to see her out and when he came back, Peter still stared at the spot she’d been sitting.

David spread Miss George’s papers before him, ready for the moment when he could finish his work. He glanced at his companion. The frown marring Peter Watson’s brow had grown.

“You were pulling my leg, Hawke, weren’t you?”

“I never joke where a client is involved. If you want any further particulars concerning K.L. Brahms then you will need to speak to her.”

“Those books are,” he said before swallowing and loosening his cravat as if it were strangling him. “Dear God. How long have you known?”

David smiled tightly. “Years. I remember the conversation being as startling as it appears to be to you. She is a talented writer. So much wit and energy in her work.”

“Brahms is a man. Everyone thinks that.” Peter covered his head. “She must have found my dinner conversation utterly ridiculous. Who else knows?”

David shrugged. “Her editor in London, of course. That is all I am aware of.”

Peter wiped his hand over his face. “Do you think Abigail has known all along? They are as close as sisters and I cannot believe they have any secrets left to share. Those books are scandalous.”

“Hardly that.” David sat forward. “Miss George shows the world as it is. If anything, her female readers can learn something from her cautionary tales. But Miss George has never indicated she has told Abigail her secret. At dinner last night, I thought your sister appeared unaware of the contents of the books.”

“Thank God she does not know. I’ll have to put a stop to this. There will be no more of that nonsense.”

“Why would you do that? K.L. Brahms is saving you from ruin and future publications will keep you on solid ground financially. Last night you were impassioned on the subject. What harm can come of letting her continue as she has?”

“The revelation will damage my sister’s chances of making a good match one day,” Watson countered. He stood suddenly. “I need to think.”