Page 4 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Alicia casually raised a glass of ratafia to her mouth to hide her smile.Maligned? Hardly.
The Marquess of Inverray might be intelligent and handsome as sin, but everything printed in the newest tract making the rounds was true. The marquess could be doing so much more with his power in Commons than he currently was. His hard work on the Reform Act had been a step in the right direction, but it was not enough.
She thought of Morrison’s maid and of the modiste who had the unfortunate luck to work with Baron Chauncey and be stiffed by his complete lack of morals. “A gentleman always pays his vows” was a common refrain. Yet Alicia had learned, time and again, that a gentleman paid his debts only to those he thought worthy of his notice.
It enraged her, and she channeled that rage into targeted action to address the plight of the working poor in London, most especially how their struggles affected their children. If holding the candidates accountable for their Parliamentary action—orinaction—through anonymously penned chapbooks was considered maligning them, then so be it.
The door to the drawing room swung open, momentarily halting some of the conversations, and a line of men strolled in.
Among them, the Marquess of Inverray walked through the doorway with Viscount Firthwell, the two men in contrast with each other. While Firthwell was golden-colored, a smile always on his handsome face, Inverray appeared as if he’d just returned from a warring party on the Scottish hillside.
Even with his mouth tipped up into a semblance of a smile, his gaze was fierce and intimidating. How he had found a dinner jacket to fit his broad shoulders, Alicia did not know, but it stretched across the breadth of him like a second skin. His sharp cheekbones and Roman nose were aristocratic, paired with dark hair he kept long and skirting the tops of his shoulders. But it was his eyes, gray and piercing, that Alicia had always found unnerving. When he looked at a person, he seemed to peer through the pretenses they erected down to the real person hidden under the layers.
Alicia watched as the marquess stopped to converse with several guests, a sparkle in his eye and a shadow of humor on his mouth. The women practically melted under the weight of his regard, and Alicia snorted.
“He really is a kind man.”
Jerking back, Alicia snapped her gaze to the woman sitting next to her.
Lady Firthwell. The viscountess was not a chatterer, and she only spoke when she had something worthwhile to say. It was exactly why Alicia opted to sit next to her when others were still wary of her working-class background and Jewish faith.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Who are you referring to, my lady?”
Lady Firthwell turned sapphire-blue eyes to her. “Lord Inverray, of course. Was he not who you were watching?”
Drat.
Alicia licked her lips and considered her next words. “It’s hard not to watch him when he’s vying for such a powerful position.”
“Naturally.” The viscountess quirked her mouth. “I worked at the foundling home Inverray endowed before I met and married Firthwell, you know.”
Alicia blinked. “Actually, I didn’t know. He supports a foundling home?”
“He does. As do his sisters, the Duchess of Ashwood and the Marchioness of Amstead. I was the deportment teacher. And I taught French. Now I serve as a patroness for the home.” A fond look brightened her face. “Lord Inverray has always been respectful and kind. And he’s good to the children, as well. So many of them are unused to kind words, but the marquess has such an easy way about him, a friendly demeanor that instantly wins their regard. He is a great favorite amongst the students.
“The party would benefit from his leadership,” Lady Firthwell continued. “As long as he can keep his temper in control in the midst of the worst of the election vitriol, I think he has a chance of securing the position.”
“You do?” Alicia repeated, taken aback by the viscountess’s confident words.
Lady Firthwell raised a sharp brow. “Do you not? Come now, Lady Lindsay, I know you are as attuned to political affairs and machinations as I have to be, so you know Inverray has a good deal of support within the party.”
Fighting the urge to fidget, Alicia raised a shoulder. “He is quite popular. My late husband thought he had a great deal of potential.”
Lindsay had also bemoaned Inverray’s tendency to rebel against the party line at inopportune times, saying the boy needed to be strategic. But Alicia couldn’t share her agreement with this assessment. At least, not in polite company.
“Indeed he does,” Lady Firthwell said. “And I am hoping this leadership race will help him hone his strengths and expose him to more critics.”
Alicia worked hard to not showcase her surprise. “You think he should be exposed to more criticism?”
“Of course. How else is he to sharpen his message and pinpoint the weaknesses in his beliefs if he never hears criticism of them?”
How indeed? A spark of hope exploded in her chest.
Turning to the viscountess, Alicia studied her. “I like the way you think, my lady. If only the men actually in power were of the same mindset.”
Lady Firthwell’s pretty face sobered. “It’s difficult, is it not, to be so close to those making the policies that could aid our countryordestroy it, and not have any more power? I may be married to Finlay, confident in his respect for me and my ideas, but I can’t vote for him, nor can I expect him to heed my advice. I did not expect to find it so vexing.”
The other woman’s words so perfectly summed up Alicia’s thoughts, she was left speechless. Even when Lindsay had been alive and actively participating in Parliamentary matters, her opinions and ideas had only ever been suggestions to him. That flare of frustration, so familiar and constant, licked painfully up her throat. Alicia swallowed it down.
