He strode down St. James with purpose, then strolled through White’s front doors, where he was greeted by the footmen. Ease settled over his soul as he walked through the marble-columned hall. Here, he could always find himself a moment of peace, away from the many females who were constantly ordering him about, telling him how to live his life or asking him for one thing or another.
He was surprised to find the club was rather empty, with the exception of the morning room, where every gentleman seemed to have congregated, gathered around a small table, chairs filled, while many were standing.
No sooner had he stepped into the circle when he was noticed and gathered in.
“Ah, Lord Berkley!” the rotund Earl of Totnes greeted him. “I’m glad you have arrived. Tell me, have you seen this rot yet?”
So it would seem that he had not needed to stop for a copy of his own. The publication was already spread out on the table below, men staring at it in consternation, as though it was about to grow claws and rise up to attack them.
“I have, unfortunately,” he said dryly. “In fact, it was on my very own breakfast table.”
Some began nodding in understanding, apparently having found themselves in similar circumstances in their own homes. Heated words began to form, and soon enough there were shouts and arguments echoing around walls of the typically reserved club.
Finally the Duke of Clarence, who Jeffrey hadn’t seen until this moment as he had been sitting behind the rest, reclining in one of the wide leather chairs, stood and raised his hands.
“Silence!” he shouted with all of his ducal authority, before lowering his voice once he had their attention. “We will get nowhere by bickering amongst ourselves. There is only one thing we can do at the moment, and that is to investigate this further and to encourage the proprietors to discontinue operations. In the meantime, if we are divided, it will only provide credence to ideals such as those contained within this publication. What we must do is create a plan and to take this down immediately, before any further traction is gained. What do you say?”
The Duke smiled at their resounding “Aye.” Jeffrey felt a momentary twinge of unease at the thought of this “lady” being hunted down by a vast number of powerful men, but it was to be expected, was it not?
“And what, pray tell, is this plan of yours?” someone asked.
Clarence turned a wicked smile toward Jeffrey and the swirling unease increased.
“I believe Lord Berkley can help us in that regard.”
“I can?” he raised an eyebrow as he studied his friend. Now was not the time to jest. What was Clarence doing?
“You can,” he confirmed with a nod, then turned back to the rest of the throng. “It looks as though Berkley has already informed himself of the matter, as he holds in his hand the very publication we are discussing. Not only that, but he has four sisters he must protect, and therefore will be particularly motivated to resolve the matter. Is that not true, Berkley?”
He nodded slowly. That, he couldn’t deny.
“Very well,” Clarence said, clapping his hands together. “The matter is settled, then, gentlemen. Berkley will find the owner, explain our position, and shut this down. Now, let us clear this publication off the table and move to the billiards’ room. Who challenges?”
Jeffrey backed away. Well, this was a fine predicament. He had come here for a solution, not for additional reasons to pursue the matter. A storm cloud began to build within him, which began to pour out when Clarence came over to speak with him away from the other gentlemen.
“What were you thinking?” he ground out, his ire growing as Clarence simply laughed.
“I know you, Berkley. You were not particularly thrilled when you read this little paper, now were you?”
“No,” he said begrudgingly.
“Well, I thought it would put your talents to good use. Your task will not be altogether difficult.”
Jeffrey looked at him with some chagrin. “You do not overly care about this drivel, do you?”
Clarence shrugged and began walking toward the exit as Jeffrey followed. “Not really. It’s a harmless little paper for women. They have arisen before, and they never last longer than a few months before they go out of print. What harm is it for ladies to have their fun? Besides that, they are not saying anything particularly blasphemous. So they discuss ladies having a brain in their heads? That is not exactly news. Tell me you have never spoken with an intelligent woman, Berkley, one willing to share her true thoughts?”
Jeffrey thought of Lady Phoebe and her forwardness, of his own sisters and their willingness to say whatever entered their minds.
“I suppose I have,” he said begrudgingly.
“If you find the owner, you get what you want. If not,” Clarence took his hat from one of the porters, fitting it neatly on his head. “There is no harm done, Berkley. Women are mystical creatures. Hell, if you ask me, the world might be better off with a little more injection of their thoughts to be heard. And it will be great fun watching you take this on. Good day, Berkley.”
And with his charismatic grin, he was off, Jeffrey staring after him, left wondering what had just happened.