“This is my brother, Lionel,” Phin introduced him. “Lionel, this is Mr. Jameson, my publisher.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jameson nodded to Lionel, but was noticeably slow to shake his hand.
For his part, Lionel didn’t seem to notice, though Phin was certain he had. Unlike other men of Lionel’s persuasion, he couldn’t have hidden who he was if his life depended on it.
“I’ve brought you a new story,” Phin said, handing Jameson the roll of papers and clearing his throat. “Do you think it can go to press by this evening?”
“I’ll do my best,” Jameson said with a sigh, taking the story to the other side of the desk and unrolling the pages. “I’ve got a few fliers for that political chappy from Chiswick to print before three this afternoon. The boys are just finishing that up, but Davy has gotten good at setting type lickety-split.” He scanned over the papers Phin had given him, his brow shooting up.
“It’s all right if it doesn’t go to press until tomorrow,” Phin said. “Although I am rather anxious for the income this issue will provide.”
“I bet you are, Mr. Mercer,” Jameson said, sending him a knowing look. He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a thick envelope. “Here’s the profits from the last issue. That one did quite well, it did.”
“That was the one where you implicated a member of the royal family, was it not?” Lionel asked with an amused snort.
“Any resemblance my characters have to real, living persons is purely coincidental,” Phin said, one eyebrow raised. He took the envelope of cash that Jameson offered him and glanced at its contents briefly.
“I had a scare with that issue,” Jameson said, growing serious. “Nearly got found out, I did. A gent came around asking questions. Said he was asking all of the printers in London for information about Nocturne. I told him I’d never heard of the publication before, that I only print fliers.” He paused, wringing his hands for a moment. “I’m not sure he believed me.”
“Your discretion is the reason I patronize your services, Mr. Jameson,” Phin said with a reassuring smile, thumping the man’s shoulder. “It’s also why I let you keep forty percent of the profits.”
“For which my wife and children thank you,” Jameson said with a wary look. “But perhaps no more stories about the royal family.”
“That sounds like a wise and sensible plan, sir.” Phin tipped his hat to the man, then turned to go. “Thank you, Mr. Jameson,” he said before he and Lionel stepped back into the hall. “You have no idea how grateful I am for everything you do for me, and for your absolute silence on the matter.”
“I know,” Jameson said. “It’s your neck the same as its mine.”
Phin nodded to him one more time, then left the office, shutting the door behind him.
“That man is a saint to keep your business secret the way he does,” Lionel said as they proceeded down the hall.
“That’s why I hire him to print and distribute Nocturne,” Phin said. “He’s as efficient as he is discreet. Here.” He handed the envelope of money to Lionel.
“What’s this for?” Lionel asked, thumbing quickly through the bills, his brow shooting up, before tucking it into his inside jacket pocket as they stepped out into the crisp, October sunshine.
“It’s yours,” Phin said. “Well, yours and the girls’.”
“Aren’t you in need of funds to maintain yourself in the style to which you have become accustomed?” Lionel teased.
“I’m still getting by on the profits from August’s issue,” Phin said. And he was only just doing that—getting by. It was lucky for him that he’d never been a spendthrift and that he was meticulous about maintaining his clothes and other personal effects in pristine condition, no matter how old they were. The majority of the money he kept for himself went to paying his maid and cook. “That law office can’t be paying you what you’re worth, so you keep the rest.”
“To stop me from falling back on my old means of income?” Lionel asked, arching one brow pointedly as they crossed the street and headed on toward Hyde Park Corner.
“Sex should be for recreation, not employment,” Phin said. It was as close as he was ever going to come to criticizing the way Lionel had “lived off of the generosity of his friends” for years.
“Says the man who writes shameless erotica to pay his bills,” Lionel laughed.
“I have to put all of that wicked experience I gained in my misspent youth to use somehow,” Phin laughed in return.
“I would have thought you’d put it to use wooing Miss Lenore Garrett away from her fiancé,” Lionel joked. “Seeing as Freddy isn’t going to entertain her with those sorts of skills.”
“It remains to be seen whether I will, in fact, get a chance to entertain her myself,” Phin said.
No sooner had he finished his thought as they crossed Park Lane and made their way to one of Hyde Park’s entrances, when Phin spotted Lenore lingering near a bed of flowers that was in no way interesting enough for the scrutiny she was giving them. As soon as she spotted Phin, her gorgeous face split into a wide smile and she abandoned the flowers to meet him and Lionel on the path.
“Mr. Mercer, what a delightful surprise to find you here today,” she said, as though she hadn’t told him exactly where she’d be that morning. “And might I assume from the striking resemblance that this man is your brother?”
“He is indeed,” Phin said, shifting to stand closer to Lenore on the pretense of making introductions. “Miss Garrett, this is Lionel Mercer, my younger brother. Lionel, this is the inimitable Miss Lenore Garrett.”
“How do you do, Miss Garrett?” Lionel said with regal gallantry, slipping Lenore’s hand into his and raising it to kiss her knuckles.
Lenore made the most delicious
