Blood for Ink (The Scarlet Plumiere Series #1) Read Online Free PDF

secrets those men kept from Society? If not for The Scarlet Plumiere, then who?
    She gobbled up the caper to the West, took a knife and scraped the Lord Gordon blob off her plate completely and wiped it on her napkin. The caper to the North was the only one remaining, so she left the table, confident in her decision to change nothing about her life.
    Definitely, absolutely confident.
    ***
     
    North woke late with a hundred emotions churning in his belly, but there was only one he could truly put a finger on—regret. He regretted writing that note to The Plumiere, only because it exposed him to his friends. He never intended for them to learn the truth. And they still did not know the whole of it.
    They believed North had sacrificed himself for the sake of a friend. It was probably the first time since France that he had appeared worthy of their circle. But he was worthy in appearance alone. He had always belonged with his fellow Kings due to their lifelong friendship, but whether or not he was deserving of that position was a question he asked himself often. His friends never wondered of course. That’s what made them the most spectacular chums in the world.
    How could he crush their newfound veneration by telling them he had decided to call out his own name before he picked his friend’s lot from the barrel? How could he confess he did not actually know it was Ashmoore’s until after he had finally taken a look at the blasted tile, after he was safely ensconced in his own bedchambers?
    As it was, they treated him like the most noble of martyrs, apologizing for the whiskey torture, eating their words. It would have been even more satisfying had he deserved it.
    Ash had been moved, and Ash was rarely moved. If only he had not been moved quite so immediately, North might have been able to blurt out the truth before it was too late. Now, his confession would only embarrass them all. It might affect their friendship and that was a risk he would not take.
    And there really was no reason for them to ever find out. After all, he was the only one who knew his intentions before the lot was drawn. He was the only one who knew how long it had taken before he had read Ash’s name. If he could control his own tongue, he had nothing to worry about. Life would go on. Their admiration would fade back to the weak color it had been. The world would be righted. And perhaps there would be a clever female addition in his life.
    His friends had finally quit the place and gone home, deep in their cups. He would have been quite drunk himself if so much of his whiskey had not gone in through his eyes. But he had been careful. A loose tongue was a dangerous thing. And a loose lot . Why the blast had not he destroyed it?
    The bright sunlight sneaking through a gap in the curtains told him he had slept late—which meant The Capital Journal’s morning edition should be waiting with his breakfast. He was downstairs in record time. The paper lay on the table, but just in case the staff was watching for their own amusement, he filled his plate first and pretended that the paper was not all he felt like devouring.
    The eggs were a bit cold. They bounced around in his mouth until he washed them away with hot coffee. The sausages resisted chewing as well. Was he being punished for something?
    He remembered calling Callister a traitor or something to that effect. That was probably it. His breakfast was usually ready and warm whatever hour he happened to rise in the morning, unless he had harmed the feelings of one of his staff. He was always made to pay. They were a terribly loyal bunch, and if he wanted a decent lunch, he had best apologize to his butler and do so before witnesses.
    He eyed the paper and decided his butler’s feelings were a bit more important. There was probably no word from The Plumiere inside anyway. Who knew how slow she might be to respond. Or perhaps she would not respond at all. Perhaps his lottery and his missive had frightened