''Now remember what I told you. Just knock on the door and enter, don't wait for him to open it. We need to catch him in the act. Clear?''
''Clear as crystal.''
''Here we are, Sir, number twenty-one,'' the cabby said, relieved his horse hadn't killed anyone in the pea soup fog that had enveloped London earlier that afternoon.
Charles got out and paid the cabby. He looked at number twenty-one. It was a large house with black railings. The front door was black with a large brass door knocker at its center. The curtains were closed, and Charles knew why.
He knocked on the door. Mrs. Pearson answered. She looked at the two young gentlemen and smiled. ''Good evening, gentlemen. Please come inside, out of the damp air.''
''We have come on urgent business,'' Charles said. ''We are members of staff of the Earl of Rochester. We urgently need to speak to him. It is a matter of state and a matter of the highest urgency.''
''Well, he can't be interrupted now, he is busy.''
''Madam, tell me where in this house we can find him or I will have your tongue cut out,'' Charles said violently. Mrs. Pearson didn't like the threatening look in his eyes and believed he was actually capable of performing such a terrible act on her.
''Room sixteen, first floor, second door on the left.''
The two men climbed the stairs as fast as they could. ''Here it is,'' Charles whispered. ''Now remember what we practiced?'' James nodded. ''Then go in and say your piece. I will wait here and at the right moment, I will come in'' Charles added.
James knocked on the door and opened it. Charles, standing next to the door so that he couldn't be seen, heard a man shout, ''What the hell......get out.......you........'' Then he heard James interrupt him.
''You are, I believe, the Ear of Rochester, the Minister for Family Affairs, are you not?''
''I am, and if you don't leave now, I will have you shot.''
James looked at the naked young lady lying next to him and threw her a dressing gown. ''Put this on and go downstairs,'' he told her. When she had gone, he looked at the Earl, who was still as naked as the day he arrived into the world.
''Sir, I am James Arbuthnot. I am a journalist at the Times Newspaper. It is my job to hold politicians to account. As you are more aware than I, there is an election looming, and you are standing for re-election as the Member of Parliament for Bramham. Your message to the electorate seems to be one based on moral principles. I would like to ask you, Sir, if visiting a house of ill repute and, excuse me for using this word, fucking prostitutes, constitutes the moral high ground on which you are seeking election?''
''What do you want?'' The Earl asked. The Earl was in his late fifties and had a full head of graying hair. He was typically aristocratic looking, tall and slender.
''Very perceptive of you Earl. Let me lay my cards on the table. I am a friend of your son, Charles. It is my belief that you have wronged him. You have disinherited him and condemned him to a life of misery while you, Sir, are the real wrong doer. So let me come to the point. Unless you reinstate your son as your heir, I will print a story in the Times, telling its readers, what I have witnessed here this evening. I doubt very much if, after that, you will be able to grace the House of Commons with your presence ever again. In fact, I wager you will be ruined.''
*****
''Charles,” Emily shrieked as he passed the butler and walked into the drawing room at Priory Manor.
''Calm yourself Emily and listen to what I have to say.'' Emily's was so excited to see him that she was unable to control her breathing. ''I have wronged you.....''
''Oh Charles please, not all that again,'' Emily interrupted. ''You have told me a thousand times, how you have wronged me and how your position won't allow you to court me. I know that, so please come to the point.''
''I love you.”
Emily sank back onto the sofa, her mouth open in disbelief. ''What?''
''I love you, and I have won the auction, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. That is if you'll have me, after all, I have put you through.''
As the tears rolled down Emily's face, she stood up and kissed him for the first time. It was a passionate lingering kiss that promised much for their future together. When their lips finally parted, Emily said,'' I have a thousand questions.''
''Then ask them,'' he said as he placed soft kisses on her neck.
''How on earth did you come into enough money to win the auction?''
''Blackmail, next question?''
''How did you know how much to bid to be certain of winning?''
''Beatrice told me it should be more than twenty thousand pounds. Next question?''
''The next question is indelicate.''
''Speak it, my dear.''
''Will you take me to bed?''
''And where are your parents?''