Page 3 of One Night of Scandal
If there were any truth to this rumor, it would transcend “gossip.” Viola’s mind worked. How could she find out?
Pennington rose. “Well, I’m off to Brooks’s. Cheers!” He picked up his mug and strolled back to the main parlor.
Raymore shook his head. “No one would be foolish enough to help the radicals. Not now after all that’s happened.”
Viola agreed the MP would be a fool. Habeas corpus had been suspended last month, and anyone could be imprisoned for any reason. It was a dangerous time for those who sought change and equality.
“Perhaps he did it before,” Keswick mused. “As I said, there are plenty of MPs who some see as ‘radical.’ Burdett, for one.”
Viola filed the name away. She suddenly stood. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I must mingle.” In truth, she was keen to leave…
As she made her way back toward the main salon, she had to stop short before running straight into her brother, Valentine Fairfax, the Duke of Eastleigh. Val’s blond brows pitched over his green eyes. “Tavistock, I didn’t realize you would be here tonight.” Though he kept his voice low, he still addressed her by the fake name.
“Just on my way out, actually.”
Val stepped toward the corner, and she felt she had to follow. He lowered his voice even further. “You’re supposed to tell me when you plan to come in.”
“And tear you away from Isabelle?” Viola referred to his new wife, whom he adored. “I’m not about to disrupt your newfound—and well-deserved—happiness.”
“It’s not as if I don’t come in here just about every day.”
“I know, but you don’t spend as much time here as you did. Neither does Cole. Too busy enjoying being married. As you should be.”
Val frowned. “We had an agreement. If you’re going to continue this deception, you’ll do it under my supervision.”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “You aren’t always here, and I have a column to write. Anyway, I’m leaving. I promise I’ll inform you next time.”
“Where is Grandmama?” Val asked.
Viola resided with their grandmother and occasionally went out with her in the evening, depending on her destination. Most of the time, however, Viola preferred to stay home—or come to the Wicked Duke. “At a card party.”
“If she only knew…” Val breathed.
“She never will.” Viola glanced over the salon to see if anyone noted their whispered conversation in the corner. They didn’t appear to.
“Perhaps it’s time you cease this behavior. Every time you dress as Tavistock, you risk being discovered.”
“After all this time, I highly doubt that would happen. However, we’re drawing attention standing here whispering. I’m going now. Give my love to Isabelle.”
“I will. Go straight home,” he said.
Viola nodded, then she walked into the main salon and deposited her tankard on the bar. After bidding good night to Doyle, she left the tavern and hailed a hack.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Anticipation curled through her as she contemplated her destination. “Brooks’s.”
Chapter 2
Jack Barrett stepped out of Brooks’s, anxious to be on his way. If not for the meeting one of his fellow MPs had arranged, he would’ve skipped the club entirely. He much preferred the informal and convivial atmosphere at the Wicked Duke.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” Viscount Orford said from behind him, drawing Jack to turn. Orford had been part of the meeting. Though they didn’t always see eye to eye—Orford was from a rotten borough and didn’t appreciate Jack speaking out against them—they often found themselves working on the same committees.
Jack pushed out a breath. “I fear it was a waste of time.”
“I do not. Any occasion we attempt to breach our political differences is well spent.” Orford, a muscular fellow, clapped him on the shoulder with zeal. “I look forward to our next debate.”
“As do I.” Jack turned, intending to move onto the pavement, and nearly collided with Gregory Pennington, an MP whose titled grandfather was the sole reason he possessed a membership to Brooks’s.
