Page 34 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
“Perhaps. But then, a true rebel is not as concerned about making a career as he is about influencing change.”
Matthews narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see, I suppose.” After a long, tense moment, he directed his attention to Finlay. “Before I publicly support your challenge to Abernathy, I have several questions.”
“Of course,” Finlay said, proud to note his voice sounded normal, for his hands were suddenly clammy and his cravat felt as if it were choking him.
“Who is funding your campaign?”
“I am.” He lifted his chin. Smart investments had yielded him a respectable nest egg.
“With a borough the size of Weobley, courting voters—” Finlay must have made a face because the earl sighed. “You’ll want to buy them food and drinks before and after events and possibly even at the polls. Perhaps you will want to sponsor the repairs to the church rectory or spire. The schoolroom may need new desks or primers. Such contributions will endear you to the voters but quickly burn through whatever funds you managed to set aside after cleaning up after your father’s reckless investments.” The earl drummed his fingers on the wooden desktop. “We’ll have local party members create a committee to fundraise for you. It will also allow us to test the amount of interest voters have for your candidacy. I’ve contacted Townsend to organize it.”
He nodded, more than a little overwhelmed. “I appreciate it.”
“Your father,” Matthews continued without preamble, “is he returning?”
Finlay clenched his jaw. “He is not.”
Matthews dropped the quill with athud. “That is fortunate. For all of his influence, Rockhaven was not well liked. Let’s hope that doesn’t affect your chances.” He paused. “I don’t think it will. You don’t carry a cloak of arrogance about you like he did.”
Finlay hoped the man was right.
“Are you aware I invested with your father and the late Duke of Darington in a disastrous colliery venture?”
“I am.” Finlay cleared his throat. “After I learned of it, I was surprised you agreed to meet with me.”
“But you’re not your father,” Matthews said so matter-of factly Finlay blinked. “I understand the new Duke of Darington married your sister. Are you still investing in ventures together?”
“We are. And he and my sister return soon.”
“Excellent.” Matthews folded his hands in front of his face. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask a duchess to canvass voters for you, so we will have to organize with local Whig party members to canvass on your behalf. This will be key. However, I recommend you ask Their Graces if they’d host a ball for you. It would be the perfect way to showcase your support, and hopefully such support will lead to campaign donations.” He pointed a finger at Finlay. “It would also be an effective way for them to reintroduce themselves to society after their lengthy absence.”
Something in the man’s tone grated along Finlay’s spine like coarse wool. He dragged air into his lungs to cool his rising temper and exhaled as discreetly as possible. Inverray had warned him Matthews was overbearing, and the earl was certainly proving the Scotsman correct.
Seeming to sense his struggle, the marquess raised his teacup to Matthews in mock salute. “Capital idea, my lord. A grand ducal ball would be the perfect way for Firthwell to officially announce his intention to stand for Weoebly, and Their Graces of Darington can charm all of London with one fell swoop.” He turned to Finlay, a smile ghosting across his mouth. “Be sure to sell it to your sister as such.”
“I’m not above employing some sibling blackmail to entice Her Grace to assist me. I knew keeping tabs of her sins would eventually come in handy.”
While Inverray laughed, Matthews tapped his fist against his mouth. His eyes didn’t waver from the desktop, as if it contained the answer to all of life’s questions. Once the marquess’s laughter had ceased, the earl stood.
“You should also marry.” He offered a cup of tea to Finlay. “Or, at the very least, announce an engagement.”
Finlay blinked. He accepted the cup while he opened his mouth, and then closed it after several silent seconds. Or perhaps they were minutes.
Marry?Just the word turned the thoughts in his head into porridge.
He wasn’t naive. Marriage was an eventuality, and if he was honest, he was looking forward to it. He liked women. Respected them. Admired them. And he liked the idea of belonging to one woman as much as she belonged to him. But such a relationship was never meant to be a part of some grand strategy of his. As a future earl, he was supposed to view his future wife in terms of her connections and bloodline. A plump dowry would be a bonus.
But every time he remembered the way Alethea’s face had lit up like a candelabra in a darkened chamber when she saw Darington at the end of the aisle, well his heart ached. Just a little. And when he recalled how the duke’s face softened and his eyes twinkled every time he said Alethea’s name, how could he want anything less for himself? Heaven knew his sister and he were the product of the ultimate society marriage, which imploded in a storm of fire and infidelity, only to be covered up in scandal.
“Why do you think I should do that?” he managed to ask without sounding strangled.
“If I’m remembering my society gossip correctly, which I admit I might not be as I’ve never been one for the gossip rags,” Lord Matthews said with an arched brow. “But if I’m not mistaken, you have a bit of a reputation as a scoundrel. A rogue.”
Unable to think of a suitable reply, Finlay gave a brusque nod.
Matthews cocked his head. “And with your father’s sudden abdication from responsibility, I’m not certain the Rockhaven and Swinton name is quite what it used to be.” At Finlay’s scowl, he held up a hand. “Even with your sister marrying a duke, it wouldn’t hurt for you to shore up your reputation with an alliance to a proper, highly bred daughter of a peer. I can send you a list of possible candidates by tomorrow.”
Finlay swallowed, forcing down glass with the motion. “Are you certain marriage is the thing? Inverray is unmarried yet.”
