Page 16 of One Night of Scandal
“Yes, it affects us all, whether we pay attention or not. Well, you’ve come to the right place to hear about politics.” He looked toward the opposite corner, where the three men were still enthusiastically conversing. “Just look at them. They’re here every afternoon debating the same things over and over.” He shook his head. “Retired MPs with nothing better to do.” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Not that I have anything better to do! I like to come and keep my ears open. Still have excellent hearing.” He tapped the side of his head as he sat back once more, his shoulders disturbing the drape.
Viola glanced toward the door. Jack was rather late now, and she wasn’t sure there would be a better opening. She pinned Hodges with a shrewd stare. “Actually, I heard a rumor recently. Perhaps you know something about it. Involves an MP who helped the radicals with something.”
The way Hodges’s eyes lit and color infused his ruddy cheeks, Viola knew she’d found success. He leaned forward again, farther this time, and lowered his voice. Despite the decrease in volume, his excitement was evident. “Oh, I know precisely what you’re speaking of. An MP instigated the attack on Prinny back in January.”
Viola also pitched forward, her pulse thrumming. “Instigated? What do you mean?” They hadn’t caught whoever had fired at his coach or thrown rocks or whatever they had done to break the window.
“Apparently, he organized it,” Hodges said. “Told the radicals when to attack. They were ready and waiting when the prince left Westminster.”
“So it wasn’t just a random attack by disgruntled workers?” That was one theory Viola had heard.
Hodges shook his head slowly. “It seems it wasn’t, but I’m not sure anyone knows for sure.”
“You don’t know who this MP is?” She held her breath, hoping he would.
“I’m afraid I don’t, but if you find out, that’ll be a story to print for sure!” He said this with such glee that Viola smiled as she imagined it. It would be incredible to publish this and could entirely change her career. Perhaps she could even write it under her real name. For a brief moment, she lost herself in the excitement of possibility.
“Are you going to include this in your column?” Hodges asked, sitting back. “I ask that you don’t mention me. I don’t want to be swept up in anything to do with anything radical.” He shuddered. “Too easy to get thrown in prison right now for anything at all for who knows how long!”
He was absolutely right. It was as if he’d doused her in ice-cold water from the Thames. She nodded soberly. She could write this—as gossip—in her column, though she wasn’t sure what her editor would say.
No, she couldn’t do it. Hodges was right that it was dangerous, but that was because it was unsubstantiated. She needed proof. And she needed to discover the identity of the MP.
“I can’t write this sort of gossip,” she said with a twinge of regret. “It’s a fascinating story—or it would be if I had more information, such as the identity of the MP. Is there anything else you could tell me that might lead me to him?”
He shook his head. “I can’t even tell you who I heard it from, but it was here.” He frowned and stared into his coffee cup for a moment. “I think.” Shrugging, he sipped his coffee. “Can’t say for sure.”
Well, that wasn’t helpful. Still, she now knew what the MP had done to help the radicals. And it was far more shocking than she’d imagined. To think that someone in Parliament had encouraged an attack on the Prince Regent was terrifying. “Makes me think of Spencer Perceval,” she said softly, referring to the prime minister who’d been assassinated by an aggrieved merchant five years ago.
Hodges nodded sadly. “Hard not to draw a comparison. We must all be on our guard. Perhaps the newspaper articlesaren’ta bad thing.” He glanced over at the newspaper on the table before looking back at her. “I hope you’re able to find the truth. We deserve to know who would provoke such a thing. If he did it once, what might he do next?”
A shiver dashed down Viola’s spine. “Indeed.” She picked up her cup and took another tentative sip of the coffee. Though it had cooled, it was not any more palatable. She choked it down and decided that was all she could do. And where the devil was Barrett?
Swinging her head toward the door once more, she saw him enter. She didn’t want to tell him about this in front of Hodges. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, rising.
“Aren’t you meeting someone?” he asked, looking up at her.
“Yes, he’s just arrived, but we’re off to another appointment. I do thank you for the company, and hope I’ll see you soon.”
“I’d like that,” he said, smiling.
She swept up her hat and set it on her head before pivoting and striding toward Barrett. His dark eyes flickered with recognition, then he frowned.
“Were you just sitting with Hodges?”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell you all about it outside.” She moved past him and pushed open the door, stepping out into the gray sunlight. Thin, high clouds blocked the sun, but it was still bright. She pulled the brim of her hat lower as she started along St. James’s.
Barrett fell into step beside her. “You were supposed to wait for me.”
She shot him an apologetic glance. “I did try, but you were late. I had an opportunity to sit with Hodges, so I took it.”
“I still say you should have waited.” He pressed his lips together in dismay.
“Even though I learned what this MP did, and it’s quite awful?”
