Page 17 of One Night of Scandal
Barrett stopped and moved closer to the corner of a building, away from the center of the pavement. “What did you learn?” His question was low and urgent, full of the anticipation she’d felt a short while ago.
“Hodges said this MP organized the attack on the Prince Regent.”
Barrett drew in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing with alarm. “That’s madness.”
“One would think.”
“Who is it?”
“Hodges didn’t know, unfortunately, but the man told the radicals where to be and when.”
Barrett pivoted and leaned back against the stone, his shoulders dipping. “This MP could do it again.”
“He could, but perhaps he sees the danger in it and won’t.”
“I should hope so. That event made an already tense atmosphere even more strained. Look at all that’s come of it—a secret committee, the suspension of habeas corpus, the resurrection of a Seditious Meetings Act. For someone trying to hinder the radicals, it worked rather well.”
She could see that perspective as well as another. “Or maybe it was just someone who wanted to assassinate the prince.”
“Well, they failed spectacularly at that, didn’t they?” he said wryly. “Whatever their motive, they made a hell of an impact.” He looked at her. “Pardon me. For a brief moment there, I forgot who you really are.”
She’d thought that had become more difficult for him—not seeing her as a woman. To find it hadn’t was disappointing, and she didn’t want to think about why that was. “I’m Tavistock. At least for right now.”
“You’re bloody brilliant, that’s for certain. I can’t believe you managed to learn that from Hodges in less than thirty minutes.”
“It was about thirty minutes. I think.” She hadn’t been watching the clock. Barrett’s praise warmed her.
Barrett pushed away from the wall and started walking again. She moved alongside him.
“I’m sorry I was late. I was delayed at a meeting,” he said. “I’m trying to think of who might have done this. Granted, I don’t know every single MP, at least not closely, but that one of them would take this risk is very concerning.”
“But not hard to believe, I imagine.”
He slid her a glance as they walked. “What do you mean?”
“So many of them are corrupt—rotten boroughs, or they’re serving in a seat that’s been paid for by someone in the Lords,” she said. “They’d have to feel beholden to behave in a certain way.”
His mouth ticked up in a half smile that made her breath hitch. “You’re quite clever. Yes, I shouldn’t find this hard to believe. I suppose it’s just that I don’twantto believe it. I always hope people are better than what others might think them capable of, that we ultimately comport ourselves with decency and honor.”
She could see thathedid. His passion for his beliefs was evident. And inspiring. “I’d like to find out who this MP is—people deserve to know about this potential threat.”
“In case he does it again, you mean.” Barrett shook his head. “Yes, people deserve to know, just as they deserve proper representation so that they are heard. The way we allow people to vote—or not vote—is absolutely maddening.” He spoke with considerable vitriol, and again his enthusiasm was palpable.
“I couldn’t agree more. That women aren’t allowed to vote or even own property, which would allow them to vote, is appalling. And yes, I realize a few women do, in fact, own property and vote, but they are by far a minority.”
“So miniscule as to not even count,” he said. “While I appreciate your zeal and do agree, I unfortunately think women’s suffrage is a ways off yet.” He winced as he apologized. “If we can get to universal male suffrage, that would be an important first step.”
Logically, she understood the reality of what he was saying, but it was still frustrating. “I would argue we should move to universal suffrage period. Women have next to no rights at present, even fewer when they marry and give over what modicum of independence they might have to their husbands.”
“Is that why you aren’t married?” The question was soft and uttered with more than a trace of curiosity. She could ignore it, but she didn’t.
“Yes.” They’d reached Piccadilly, and she stopped, intending to catch a hack. “And why aren’t you married?”
His dark eyes glimmered beneath the brim of his hat. “Because I don’t want to be. Not yet, anyway. I’ve too much to do right now.”
She could see that. “You’re married to the House of Commons.”
He grinned. “Perhaps. Now, what is our next move?”
