1897 Tokyo is no different than anywhere else in the world: men are exploiting women. Specifically, Western men are exploiting Japanese women, and Suki Malveaux holds no punches in her condemnation of their behavior in her weekly column in the Tokyo Daily News.
Suki knows firsthand when Western men arrive at Tokyo Bay thereâs only one outcome for Japanese women: a child and new mother left behind as nothing more than discarded shrapnel from the heartless war on love.
Griffith Spenser is her latest target. Heâs been seen with Natsu Watanabe, one of Tokyoâs esteemed war widows. Under full anonymity of the moniker âThe Tokyo Tattler,â Suki makes sure Griffith knows exactly why his behavior with Natsu wonât be tolerated.
Away from her mask as a columnist, Suki never intended to meet the cad. When he seeks her out to hire as a tutor for his niece and nephew, sheâs faced with seeing him day in and day out without him ever knowing who she really is.
Caught in her struggle for anonymity so she can keep battling for womenâs rights, Sukiâs about to learn the full impact of her words on the people behind the story, especially on Griff.
1897 Tokyo is no different than anywhere else in the world: men are exploiting women. Specifically, Western men are exploiting Japanese women, and Suki Malveaux holds no punches in her condemnation of their behavior in her weekly column in the Tokyo Daily News.
Suki knows firsthand when Western men arrive at Tokyo Bay thereâs only one outcome for Japanese women: a child and new mother left behind as nothing more than discarded shrapnel from the heartless war on love.
Griffith Spenser is her latest target. Heâs been seen with Natsu Watanabe, one of Tokyoâs esteemed war widows. Under full anonymity of the moniker âThe Tokyo Tattler,â Suki makes sure Griffith knows exactly why his behavior with Natsu wonât be tolerated.
Away from her mask as a columnist, Suki never intended to meet the cad. When he seeks her out to hire as a tutor for his niece and nephew, sheâs faced with seeing him day in and day out without him ever knowing who she really is.
Caught in her struggle for anonymity so she can keep battling for womenâs rights, Sukiâs about to learn the full impact of her words on the people behind the story, especially on Griff.
April 1897, Tsukiji, Tokyo
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Shaky hands and racing heart notwithstanding, Suki gave herself a fighting chance. The incorrigible rake might have accusations, threats, and plans for retaliation, but she had feminine cunning. While she lacked familiarity with the mechanics involved in that sort of cunning, sheâd seen how furtive glances and teasing words reduced men to foolishness. The basics of flirtation rivaled neither the complexity of French verbs nor the convolutedness of English spellings, both of which sheâd mastered with ease.
A maid hastened across the garden and opened the front gate. âMr. Spenser is expecting you,â she said in the clear, precise English of servants in Tokyoâs foreign quarter of Tsukiji.
Suki followed the maid through Spenserâs front garden, past azalea bushes boasting radiant displays of scarlets, lavenders, and magentas. Flurries of pale pink temple bells burst forth in a graceful arrangement that bore a decidedly feminine touch.
Of course it did. Spenserâs gardens wouldâve been planted by his former wife.
Suki pictured the fair-haired young woman vigorously fanning herself at last summerâs festival. Sheâd worn one of those heavy dresses that trapped sweat and exacerbated the summer itch. Several months later, news had traveled through Tsukiji that Spenserâs bride had returned to England for good.
As Suki stared up at the Japanese-style wooden beam home with the gingerbread trim and second-story dormer windows favored by Tsukijiâs British residents, dread once again grew in the pit of her stomach. If Spenser had seen fit to alienate the woman heâd pledged to honor and protect, what did he have in store for the woman he most certainly despised?
âThe door is over here,â a manâs voice called from the house.
Had Emperor Mutsuhito been standing on the front porch, Suki wouldnât have been more surprised. The irate gentleman sheâd been expecting was looking at her with an expression of mild amusement. Up to now, sheâd only caught glimpses of the incorrigible rake in passing. Closer examination revealed an angular jawline that an aspiring journalist might wish to trace with her finger and cheekbones ordinarily found on statues of world-conquering kings. Pillow-like lips, one touch of which would make a womanâs insides melt, were already having that very effect on her.
Griffith Spenser was downright handsome. But not in a way that made Suki swoon into the azalea bushes. A crease lined the middle of his chin, and his nose could be described as a bit wide, his brow as a bit too high. The caramel-colored hair atop his head hadnât been set with a pomade but permitted its thick waves, adding a few inches of unruly height to the already tall, lean gentleman.
Given his reputation, she should have been prepared for a strong dose of masculine appeal. But her head felt light and airy, and her breath had all but disappeared. In its place, a bubbling sensation portended a spell of the giggles. Gripping her satchel, she took in enough air to restore her powers of reason. Unless she got to work, Spenser was going to be the instrument of her undoing. Fortunately, she knew his weakness. Like most foreign men who arrived on Japanâs shores, Spenser was enamored with the nationâs beauties. And although her chignon had loosened to lopsidedness, and her kimono bore the marks of a full dayâs teaching, and she was, in fact, only half-Japanese, she could muster enough charm to make Spenser reconsider his plans.
Fluttering her eyelashes in a coquettish manner, which had much in common with trying to dislodge a flying insect, Suki faced the man who held her fate in the palm of his rather well-shaped hands. âI was admiring your fine home.â
âI quite like it myself.â
âWas it constructed after the quake of â94?â
âWe commissioned its construction when we arrived in â95. Iâm assured by its builders it could withstand another earthquake of that intensity. Japanese-style homes fare better than brick and stone.â
âMother Nature has given us many opportunities to rebuild.â
âMother Nature?â Spenser furrowed his brow. âI thought it was the giant catfish residing under Japan flipping its tail that caused all these earthquakes.â His tone was teasing, while the observation revealed Spenser as the type of foreigner who bothered learning about traditional culture.
âYou know your Japanese folklore,â Suki replied.
âI like to be prepared for all the dragons and ghosts Iâm certain to encounter,â Spenser said with a smile that brought out creases along his soft brown eyes. âI should introduce myself, although introductions are probably unnecessary. Iâm Griffith Spenser, arrived from England, resident of Tsukiji for almost two years.â
Suki mentally added to the introduction: Spenser counted minor members of the British aristocracy among his family, although he himself had no chance of inheriting a title; his company was the most highly regarded foreign-owned trading firm in Tokyo; heâd arrived with a new bride who left him a year later; and he now graced the bed of war widow Natsu Watanabe. Also, he played lawn tennis.
The Tokyo Tattlerâs job was to know these facts about Tsukijiâs most illustrious residents, and Suki needed to continue doing this job, which was why she couldnât let Spenserâs allure compromise her defenses. The man had asked her to his home without explanation. Although sheâd like to imagine heâd summoned her to discuss the modern significance of Japanese mythology, she was a realist. Spenser had a score to settle with the Tokyo Tattler, and all this pleasant banter about earthquakes was merely diversion.
âItâs an honor to make your acquaintance, Spenser-san.â She bowed low and rose slowly, presenting him with downcast eyes and a curl of the lips, a pose meant to convey both shyness and carnal desire. Rakes liked that combination.
âI appreciate your coming on such short notice,â he said with a heavy sigh. âThe events of the past few weeks have left me no choice. I find myself scrambling for any means to rectify the situation.â
Spenser was going to rectify her? What could that possibly entail? Sheâd be fortunate to leave his home in one piece. Steeling her nerves, she gave Spenser her most accommodating smile. âIâd be pleased to oblige in any way I can.â
His shoulders relaxed by degrees. âIâm much relieved to hear that.â
Was Spenser already caving to her charms? Truly, men were like flower petals in the hands of an eager child.
Stepping aside, he motioned for her to enter the house. Like a chivalrous Western gentleman, he was content to let his female companion be the first to confront whatever danger, disaster, or vengeful demon lurked inside. A Japanese man would have taken the lead, not stood so close behind her, bringing heat to her cheeks as she removed her shoes and stepped into the homeâs interior.
A middle-aged Japanese woman appeared and gave a low bow before offering Suki a pair of slippers.
âThis is the housekeeper, Rei-san. In the event you have any misgivings about our conversing alone, sheâll act as chaperone. I realise itâs a bit unorthodox inviting a woman Iâve never met to my home. But these days I find it difficult to present my face in public.â
Suki heard sadnessâprofound sadness, to be exactâweighing down his voice. How could he have been so offended by her writing? All sheâd done was spread a bit of gossip. Her readers had questions as to why Spenserâs wife had suddenly departed Tsukiji and how heâd ended up with everyoneâs favorite war widow on his arm. As their Tattler, Suki was duty-bound to provide answers, all of which had ample verification.
Granted, thereâd been times when sheâd presented a luscious on-dit based on weak sources, which had later proved false. But those incidents bore no relation to Spenser. Everything sheâd written about Tsukijiâs Lothario had been obtained through trusted sources. Had she really made it impossible for Griffith Spenser to present his face in public?
Rei-san led them to a parlor at the front of the house. Here, Spenserâs former wife had left her mark in the form of rural scenes in gilded frames, luminous bronze sconces, and a carpet that resembled a field of daisies.
Spenser motioned to a high-backed chair and took the one opposite. âIâm told this is an excellent variety of green tea,â he said while Rei-san poured a cup for Suki.
âI enjoy all varieties of tea,â Suki said, her voice lilting with her best attempt at deferential sweetness. Truthfully, she preferred black tea with milk and sugar like the British, which was also how her Japanese mother took it. His people had won the tea battle; he might as well gloat.
Spenser forged ahead with his cup of Japanese tea, his nose crinkling as the earthy brew neared his lips. After a short sip, he returned the earthenware cup to its tray and sat back. âShall we discuss the reason for my requesting your presence this evening?â
To expose her identity, to chastise her for what sheâd written about him, to describe how he planned to denounce her to all of Tsukiji as the shrew who was penning their gossip.
Using flirtation to charm this rather serious, seemingly intelligent man into abandoning his plans for her demise no longer seemed the wisest course of action. Fortunately, she had other means at her disposal: apologize, grovel, offer to extol his virtues for the next five columns. Strike first with her own blistering interrogation. How had Spenser discovered she was the Tokyo Tattler? Who were his spies? How did he dare attack Tsukijiâs favorite columnist?
Spenser was a member of civil society, which meant he appreciated the idea of rights. She could plead freedom of the press and the publicâs right to knowledge. Those were British notions, too.
The teacup nearly slipped from her trembling fingertips as she lowered it to the tray. Whatever it took, sheâd placate Spenser. Otherwise, every word sheâd written, every source sheâd cultivated, every piece of journalistic advice sheâd taken to heart would be for naught. âPlease tell me, Spenser-san, why you summoned me to your home.â
âI asked you here to request your assistance with my wards.â
âYourâŚâ The word fell on her ears, devoid of meaning. Did wards refer to Tokyoâs administrative districts? Why would Spenser possess urban administrative districts? And why would he need her assistance with such possessions?
âMy wards.â
She stared at him, unable to fathom what he possibly meant by wards.
âIâm not planning on plundering their inheritance or any such nonsense. Iâm concerned with their future care once they arrive in Tokyo.â
Wards, as in children. He was a guardian, and wards were the children under his guardianship. An entirely unexpected revelation, but not unwelcome.
Feeling compelled to provide explanation for her confused response, Suki grabbed at the first word that came to mind. âWarts. I thought you said you had warts. Now I realize you said wards. T-sounds and d-sounds at the end of a word can create much confusion for the listener.â
âWarts? You thought Iâd ask a beautiful, intelligent woman of no prior acquaintance to my home to discuss my warts?â
A feather could have knocked Suki to the floor. Not only had Spenser summoned her for a most innocent reason, but he also thought her beautiful and intelligent, two words no one ever associated with her person save well-meaning family when they thought she needed a boost.
Suki, on the other hand, had associated his obviously handsome person with warts. It was a positively ludicrous explanation. But like the British say, âin for a penny, in for a pound.â
âPlease understand. English is not my first language, nor is it really my second. My father spoke French with me when I was a child, and Iâve always spoken Japanese, though I never learned all the characters necessary to read and write properly. I suppose having grown up in an English-speaking household, and having spent all my life in Tsukiji, and the fact that I am an English teacher makes it my best language; but it is not my first.â
Spenser lurched forward while gurgling noises issued from his mouth. Spasms racked his torso, and his head jerked side to side. The plate of biscuits on the tea tray remained untouched, yet something substantial must have gotten lodged in his throat. The housekeeper-chaperone was nowhere in sight. Suki would have to save him from choking to death, and the only thing she could think to do was give his back a firm wallop like her sister-in-law when her son attempted to inhale a plate of tangerines.
Suki fisted her hand and rose, prepared to strike, when Spenser reeled upwards. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and his face was a brutal shade of red. The menacing grimace contorting his mouth reminded her of the angry-god statues standing guard outside Buddhist temples. But at least he was breathing.
Rapid hiccuppy gasps finally revealed the frenzied fit for what it was. Spenser was laughing.
No human being laughed in this fashion. Mirth of this degree could kill a man. What if he fell off the chair, hit his head, and ended up maimed for life, or worse? And sheâd be the one responsible. Acting as though sheâd heard the word âwartsâ instead of âwardsâ had been a means of rescuing the conversation. Instead, sheâd caused him to produce sounds not found in the natural world, like that of a frog wrestling a turnip, which would simply never occur.
The more he laughed, the harder it was to restrain her own. Eventually, she surrendered and joined in the hilarity. Let him think she was laughing at her supposed linguistic foible, which, thankfully, seemed to be amusing him to no end.
âFor the record, I donât have any warts,â he sputtered, and another bout of laughter commenced.
That would have been her guess. Spenser didnât appear to have any blemishes to speak of. Likely, he was as pleasing to look at in the flesh as he was fully clothed, which was the very last place her thoughts should have gone. They had wards to discuss.
âI appreciate your honesty about the warts, and the wards.â Suki tilted her head to the side. âPerhaps you could tell me more about the latter?â
Spenser dabbed his eyes once more and cleared his throat. âI apologize for not being more specific in the invitation to my home. But it is a private matter, and in this town, the truth quickly becomes twisted into all manner of gossip.â
Suki nodded her understanding.
Folding his hands, Spenser exhaled with a sigh. âA few months ago, my eldest brother passed away. An illness took him. He was a widower, and his wife was French. They met when he was working at a trading firm in the south of the country. They raised their two children on the continent and visited England periodically. My nephew Lucien is seventeen, no longer a child, really. His sister Marianne is fifteen, and Iâm most concerned about her education and other aspects of a young womanâs life.â
Finally, Spenserâs invitation made sense. Suki happened to be a teacher of fifteen-year-old girls. Naturally, her name would have come up when Spenser mentioned needing assistance with his nieceâs education. âThat is a tricky age for a young woman.â
âI last saw my brother several years ago when he was in London on business. I informed him of my intention to marry Victoria, a family friend with whom weâd been close as children. He thought her a lovely woman, which she is, even if she didnât care for Japan.â A pained expression settled so briefly on Spenserâs face that if Suki hadnât been staring, she would have missed it entirely.
âMy brother believed Victoria was still with me in Japan when he directed the children into my care. Since his passing, I notified Marianne and Lucien of Victoriaâs absence, but they are determined to honour their fatherâs wishes and reside with me in Tokyo.â
âOn the other side of the world. They must be brave.â
âI suppose the desire to venture abroad runs strongly in our family. A great-grandfather of many centuries ago was a pirate. His wealth bought us a title, a manor, and respectability. Nevertheless, my brother and I, along with quite a few uncles and cousins, have set our sights on places far from England.â
âHow did you end up in Japan?â
Other questions begged to be answered: Why did you stay? Why didnât you leave when your wife departed? Was it because you fell for the irresistible beauties of the Orient? Did their company ease your loneliness? Or were you already in love with Natsu Watanabe? And when might we expect your fickle eye to stray from her the way it did from your wife?
Suki chastised herself for being cynical. A real journalist collected facts before drawing conclusions.
âMy company presented me with the opportunity to oversee East Asia trade at our Tokyo offices. I thought it sounded like a splendid adventure. Even with the upheavals of the previous year, I think everything turned out for the best.â
The dreamy look in Spenserâs eyes told Suki everything she needed to know about his relationship with Watanabe. He was enamored. The loving ministrations of the impeccable war widow must have been the perfect salve for the end of his marriage and the death of his brother. No wonder he was glad to be in Tokyo. Their love was something to be admired, an aspiration for Japanese women and foreign men who couldnât resist their mutual attraction.
Suki felt a pang of guilt for the many words sheâd written against the match. Henceforth, the Tokyo Tattler would refrain from malicious gossip about Griffith Spenser. Straightening her posture, she smoothed her kimono skirt and gave this exceptional man her full attention.
âHow might I be of assistance with your wards?â
This book begins with Suki Malveaux visiting Griffith Spenser's house believing that he's realised that she is the author of a gossip column that has dragged his reputation through the mud. When she realises that he does not in fact know who she is, she is both pleased and confused because she seems to be developing feelings for him and realising that her column is entirely wrong about him.
Firstly, the setting was beautifully described. All the Japanese cultural aspects, from the decadent food to the graceful clothing, from the simple yet extravagant architecture to the deeply respectful mannerisms. Since the book involves main characters who are not Japanese, i.e., French Marcelle and British Griffith, it brings out an interesting juxtaposition between various cultures.
Secondly, the feminist aspects of this book are subtle yet evident to anyone looking for them. Suki aspires to be a journalist and works undeterred to achieve her goal and Marcelle is much more feminine and flirtatious and wants to be a modiste. The way that this book lauds both women, one trying to enter a male-dominated field and another trying to make a name for herself in a clearly feminine profession, is very inspirational.
Thirdly, the plot itself is quite interesting. Most historical romances focus heavily on the romance and leave out any semblance of a plot. Griffith falling for Suki without knowing that she is one of his enemies was a thrilling and emotion-charged plot.
Fourthly, it was refreshing to have an intelligent, perceptive female main character for a change.
Finally, the part that let me down in this book is the romance. It began beautifully, with both characters hesitant and adorably shy. But, in my opinion, it developed too quickly. The characters seem to fall in lust but termed it love, which is one of my pet peeves. Suki changes her mind about Griffith being an evil foreign seducer too quickly.
I would recommend this book to any lover of historical romance novels. This is also only a book for people over the age of 16 as it has some consensual and non-consensual sexual aspects.
Trigger Warning: Sexual assault. It is a small mention but with quite a bit of detail.