Big Duke Energy by Kerrigan Byrne & Christi Caldwell & Amalie Howard & Janna MacGregor & Stacy Reid

Author:Kerrigan Byrne & Christi Caldwell & Amalie Howard & Janna MacGregor & Stacy Reid
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver-Heber Books

Yet, its editor is only human, a humble man who knows when to print a retraction.

Our Utmost Apologies to Her Grace, the Duchess of Southart.

Dear readers, there were no carriage trysts or shenanigans involved here, only adorable puppies for the Duke of Southart and his heir.

May the duke and his son have the merriest of celebrations in honor of their birthdays.

The Midnight Cryer

* * *

“Who wrote this?” Martin knew but wanted confirmation before he went and strangled his wife’s beautiful neck.

“You did,” Graham offered. He pulled out another piece of parchment and handed it to Martin. “Here’s the original. Your wife said you were anxious to get it out on the streets early this morning. She said you wrote it last night.” He laughed again. “We’ve sold more papers than the Duke of Southart scandal from years ago. I’ve printed off more.”

Martin studied the penmanship, then ground his teeth together. It looked like his writing except for the S’s. They were much too frilly. The urge to crumple the paper in his hand and sling it across the room became overpowering. How could she do this to him?

“Do not sell any more copies.” The words were remarkably calm, even if his blood was practically boiling in anger.

“Why not?” Graham asked, scratching his head.

“I didn’t write it,” he seethed. “Is my wife upstairs?”

Graham shook his head. “No, Duke. She went to her old residence. Said she needed to be available if there were any callers. Then she’s going to the foundling home.” He studied Martin’s face for a moment, then lowered his voice. “You don’t look well. You should go to the Greedy Vicar and get something to eat and drink.”

“Thank you for the kind advice,” Martin said sarcastically. “From now on, you’re only to print what I personally place in your hands. Understood?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked out the door. Before he confronted her, he would find a stiff drink. It would allow him the opportunity to plot his revenge.

He crossed the street without regard to the traffic. It wouldn’t have made any difference if there was a carriage or not. With his fury fueling his thoughts, nothing would stop him. He turned at the street corner, then made his way into the Greedy Vicar. When a serving girl saw him and his dark mood, she scampered out of his way.

He slid into his usual seat at the old wooden table centered in front of the tavern’s bay windows. In seconds, the owner was before him and set down a cup. “Usual?”

Martin nodded, inhaling the dark aroma of the coffee. “Add a whisky to it.”

“Richmond,” a voice called from behind him.

Martin turned to discover a few of his fellow gossip writers. They all congregated at the Greedy Vicar in the morning for breakfast while rehashing the news of the evening.

He wanted to bury his head in his hands when his gaze landed on John Trimble, the owner of the London-Town Tattler, the largest competitor to The Midnight Cryer.

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