Page 3 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Do more? He had served on Commons for eight years, had worked tirelessly to see reforms pushed through that completely restructured the political apparatus of Parliament to wrest power from those who governed for themselves and give it to the people.
Anger turned his vision red, and he took a long moment to contain it. Swallowing uncomfortably, Niall refocused his gaze on the tract.
Of the two candidates vying for Whig party leadership, the Marquess of Inverray has the most promise. He is intelligent, charismatic, and this writer believes, a genuinely good person.
Unfortunately, good people do not make good politicians.
The marquess needs to be bold. Inventive. Unafraid to challenge the establishment…yet more often than not, he acquiesces to it.
Take his stance on child labor. He has professed a disgust for the practice, yet he has voted against every bill that has come before his committee. It is a travesty. It is a disgrace! If we cannot trust the Marquess of Inverray to advance a child labor bill from his committee to Commons for a vote, how can we trust he will usher the government into a more benevolent entity that this country requires to address the needs of its citizens? In a word, we cannot.
Fighting the urge to crumple the paper within his fist, Niall opted to suck a breath of air into his lungs. And request another glass of port from a footman.
“The writer is being dramatic. An effective tract needs to be dramatic to draw attention,” Firthwell said, sipping lightly from his glass.
“But is he?” Niall pursed his lips as his gaze skipped over the gathering of men in the room. Any of them could be the author. “My committee hasn’t advanced a child labor vote through to the assembly. Not because I do not want to, but because none of the bills have been right. Surely the writer of this drivel knows that.”
“Or he doesn’t because he’s a fool.” Matthews pulled a small case from his coat and extracted a cheroot. Holding it to a candelabra on a nearby console, he puffed on it for a passing moment. “You put too much stock in these silly tracts. Who reads them? The public. The very people who cannot vote. Why should you care if women and the poor read these words? Their opinions do not affect your campaign.”
But shouldn’t they?Niall thought as he studied the older man.
Viscount Matthews had been a fixture in his life since he’d decided to stand for his Parliament seat. As the son of a Scottish duke, Niall had very few friends involved with British politics, and even fewer that desired for him to participate in them. But ever determined, he had conversed with lords at balls and dinner parties, sharing his views and discreetly asking for introductions to men who could help an eager, motivated young Scotsman find his way into politics. Lord Matthews was just such a mentor.
But that didn’t mean Niall always agreed with him. And because they had waged arguments much like this in the past, his answer was probably a familiar refrain to the viscount. “Perhaps we should change the laws of this country so that every citizen can vote, instead of just wealthy, land-owning men.”
Not waiting for Matthews’s retort, Niall turned to Firthwell. “Do others agree with the writer?”
Staring into his eyes for a long moment, the blond man finally sighed. “It would appear so. I have heard whispers at the coffee shop. And”—his expression turned pained—“Charlotte has said several women in the patroness group have mentioned the tracts.”
Niall clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached. Even the women who served on the patroness board for the foundling home, one he’d opened and supported for years with his own funds, doubted him? All because some nameless, faceless coward was questioning his abilities. His ideas. Hisintegrity.
“Mo chreach, if I am lucky enough to meet this man in a dark alley”—Niall crushed the tract in his fist—“he’d better hope the worst I do is throttle him.”
…
When Alicia first married, she had longed to join the men for port after dinner.
Lord Lindsay, her husband, used to tell her of the topics the men discussed as they sipped on their Portuguese wine and smoked cigars and cheroots. Such things interested her far more than the conversations the women engaged in while they waited for the men to relieve them from their boredom. That was until Lindsay told her to listen to the things the women didn’t say, and Alicia came to realize how very foolish she’d been to think the conversations were anything but revealing.
For oftentimes, the most titillating information was revealed if Alicia paid close attention to the chatter around her.
“Morrison says he can’t believe I didn’t fire the upstairs maid when I discovered she was with child,” Lady Morrison shared quietly from a couple of chairs away, as she fanned her face with furious strokes.
The viscount is obviously dallying with or harassing the maid. Alicia made a mental note to ask her maid to inquire after the girl and ensure she was well.
A baroness kept up a litany of complaints nearby. “Chauncey refuses to allow me to shop at Madam Tremaine’s any longer. He says their gowns are subpar for the price, and insists I was overpaying.”
Alicia barely kept her eyes from rolling into the back of her head. Baron Chauncey was a scapegrace, who she would guess had not paid the modiste’s bills for at least a quarter. Again.
Is this all these women were concerned about? Or were they just content to complain and receive commiserating comments for their woes because they received no such attention at home?
Alicia knew a bit about being ignored by one’s spouse.
Still, why couldn’t they discuss truly important matters like the political stances of the next candidates to run their empire? But then perhaps these women were taught that these sorts of topics which they discussedshouldbe important to them.
As if someone had read her mind, the next voice immediately snagged Alicia’s attention.
“Inverray is a dear man,” the Duchess of Claremore said in her usual brusque tone, as if daring anyone to refute her words. “He is refined, gentlemanly, and sharp as a tack. It’s unfortunate that tract writer has maligned him so.”
