Page 8 of To Tempt a Scandalous Lord
Niall grasped his coffee cup and brought it to his lips to keep from responding.
Undeterred, his friend added, “You must admit her advice about Hanover was quite clever.”
“I admit nothing.” Niall arched a severe brow before glancing down at the tabletop. “But since you mentioned Hanover, haveyouconsidered her suggestion?”
Firthwell rubbed his jaw, his green gaze speculative. “I’ve been thinking about it since the countess suggested it. I have some ideas.”
For the next half hour, they discussed how to goad the old MP to finally relinquish his stranglehold on his borough. Hanover had served in Commons from the time Niall’s father had still voted his seat in Lords, and had always been a cantankerous, mean-spirited fellow. He’d also become more content to sip brandy at his club than to attend committee meetings or pivotal votes at Westminster over the years. His retirement would allow for a younger, responsible, driven man to take his place, and Niall was determined to see that happen. His very bid for party leadership could depend upon it.
“So what do you think?” Firthwell asked.
Niall scrubbed a hand across his brow. “I…think it’s a solid plan. I’ll discuss it with Matthews, because the old dog will probably see something we didn’t.”
“Good idea.” Firthwell suddenly pointed a finger at him. “We should mention it to the dukes, as well. They can spread it amongst their contacts, and who’s going to dare contradict two dukes?”
“Not me, that’s for certain,” Niall said on a laugh. His sister Juliana’s husband, the Duke of Ashwood, and his close friend, the Duke of Darington, were the exact sort of allies one could only hope to have.
“Although if anyone were to challenge them, it should be you. You’re a future duke, after all,” Firthwell pointed out.
“A Scots duke.”
His father, the Duke of Kilmorrow, also claimed an old English viscounty, which gave him a seat in Lords, but there was always some snobbish, turned-out English lord determined to look down on him despite being one of the wealthiest peers in the realm. And his career in Commons had made him one of the most well-connected.
Yet…try as he might, Niall was painfully aware that others would always think less of him and his abilities.
Coughing into his fist, Niall forced his thoughts from memories to the present. “I’ll speak with Ashwood and Darington.”
“Excellent.” Firthwell rose to his feet with easy grace, donning his top hat. “Until tomorrow night, my friend.”
Niall watched him weave his way through the coffee shop afternoon crowd, his thoughts already on the next item on his to-do list and decidedlynoton the pretty countess who would be his dinner companion.
Chapter Three
Alicia couldn’t remember a dinner she’d attended where she’d smiled quite so much.
Raising a glass of wine to her lips, her gaze wandered the room. Everything about Rockhaven House spoke of wealth and consequence, and her mouth had gaped to an embarrassing degree when she had stepped into the foyer. Her hosts, Lord and Lady Firthwell, had graciously ignored her lack of decorum, and the couple chatted and laughed easily with her, even as they still orbited around each other.
Charlotte, as Lady Firthwell had asked to be called, had gripped Alicia’s hand tightly as they walked to the dining room and quietly told her how happy she was that Alicia accepted her invitation. Some of her nerves were abated at finding only one other guest in the room, his back facing the door as he studied the fire crackling in the hearth.
While she had taught herself to remain austere and confident in any setting, Alicia much preferred smaller gatherings where she could engage in meaningful conversations with others. Their party would only consist of four people, so she swallowed back some of her unease. Perhaps Charlotte was just as eager to forge a friendship between them as she was.
“My lord, you remember Lady Lindsay, I’m sure,” Charlotte said to the gentleman on the other side of the room.
And suddenly Alicia knew exactly who he was. His broad shoulders, kissed by hair the color of midnight, were his greatest tell, and her skin tingled in awareness. But it was when Lord Inverray turned and his gray eyes snagged her that the true weight of his magnetism wrenched at her composure.
How she had managed to be in his company so frequently over the last few days, she did not know, but Alicia found she was not sorry for it. She had long thought him arrogant and fierce, and he was still those things, but she was learning he wassomuch more.
“Your ladyship,” the marquess said simply, executing a graceful bow.
His eyes held hers as she extended her greeting, and a pleasant warmth spread across her skin. Even when Charlotte pulled her aside in conversation, Alicia continued to feel his gaze.
Inverray sat at her side throughout dinner, and no matter what movement she made, whether cutting her roast beef and root vegetables, raising her glass of wine to her lips, or smiling at Charlotte while they chatted, Alicia was always aware of the marquess. His outsized presence dominated the space, leaving her decidedly on edge.
After dinner concluded, they adjourned to the sitting room, where Alicia listened quietly while Inverray argued with their host about the best way to move a child labor bill to Westminster.
“You always talk about garnering Tory support, even when you already have the votes to push the proposal forward.”
“Firthwell, it’s not that simple,” he said, as the viscount groaned into his glass of wine.
