Page 15 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Her friend considered her with intense black eyes. “It’s easy to imagine ruination, but I’d wager it’s much harder to live it. Have a care, Alicia, especially where your feelings for Inverray are concerned.”
A surge of bile touched the back of her throat, and Alicia forced it back down with the rest of her fears. Effia was right, of course.
In her quest for social change, Alicia gambled with so much more than just her reputation. She needed to make sure that every essay she wrote was worth it, because then what was the point of gambling so much?
Straightening her spine, she looked to her friend. “Take the essay. It’s ready.”
Effia nodded. “Very good.”
Chapter Five
Niall was dead on his feet.
He’d risen before the sun to read through a bill proposal that had been presented to his committee for review, and then prepared talking points for a speech he was to give to party members at a luncheon later in the day. Then there was another blasted ball to attend, this time an affair hosted by Lord Talbot. By the time dinner rolled around at the event, he would be awake for nearly an entire day.
Scrubbing a hand across his brow, Niall focused on reordering his thoughts. No one had said a bid for Prime Minister would allocate time for sleep.
At least he had his waltz with Lady Lindsay to look forward to.
The promise of seeing the dark-eyed blonde shouldn’t make his palms tingle and his breath come in rapid spurts, but there was no denying his eagerness to hold her in his arms as they twirled about the dance floor.
Niall preferred not to contemplate too deeply why the countess fascinated him. There were enough matters to consider and wrestle over rather than his quickly growing infatuation with the clever, witty widow.
A knock on the study door drew his head up.
At his word, the butler entered. “Mr. Torres is here to see you, my lord. May I show him in?”
The Duke of Darington’s man of business? Whyever would the man be calling on him? Niall was instantly at attention. “Please.”
While he awaited his unexpected guest, Niall pushed the papers on his desk into neat, orderly piles, arranging his pens just so, before he smoothed back his hair.
“Mr. Torres, my lord,” his butler intoned as the dark-haired gentleman stepped over the threshold.
Niall had met the tall Spaniard only a time or two before, but the man had made an impression. Torres had worked for Darington long before the duke had come into his title, and he knew the man did jobs for his other friends, as well. They trusted the man implicitly, which made the mystery of why he was now calling on him even more interesting.
After exchanging pleasantries, Niall invited him to have a seat. “Is there a particular reason why you have graced me with your presence today?”
“Darington and Ashwood grew tired of your reticence to discover the identity of the chapbook author and set me to the task.”
Oh.Frustration and appreciation clashed within Niall’s chest and left an uncomfortable ache behind. That his friends took it upon themselves to see to this problem that had been haunting him left him at sixes and sevens.
Impervious to his thoughts, Torres stretched out his long legs in front of him. He reminded Niall of a cat preparing for a nap under the afternoon sun. “I have identified the publisher of the tracts. Does the name Charles Hughes sound familiar? He’s known for printing several small periodicals, as well as dime novels and recipe books. His business printing and distributing political chapbooks is not advertised.”
“I’ve heard his name mentioned before. You’re certain he’s the one printing these things?” Niall reached into his drawer and scattered several copies of the chapbooks across the desktop like blighted confetti.
Torres scanned the copies, his mouth twisting. “I am. In fact, I saw him accepting what I think might be a new essay in the park yesterday morning.”
Niall went still, his breath hitching in his throat. “You saw a handoff? How do you know that’s what it was?”
“Because a new tract began circulating this morning,” the Spaniard said, sliding a chapbook across the desk.
Staring down at the folded paper, Niall swallowed. He picked it up slowly, his fingertip stroking the corner of the tract for a moment, before he unfolded it and read.
Two Men for Prime Minister, No Champion for the People
As the vote for who will lead the Whig government approaches, party voters have a difficult decision to make.
Their first choice is a man who holds the confidence of current Prime Minister, Lord Grey, yet persistent rumors of a peccadillo with a married lady cast shadows on his honor. The second choice is a duke’s heir who runs a foundling home for orphans and has been one of the most popular MPs in decades. Yet in his seven years in Commons, he’s consistently failed to bring sweeping reform bills to the floor.
