Page 39 of One Night of Scandal
Jack made his way up the narrow stairs and rapped softly on the door. Henry Dean opened it a bare amount and, upon seeing Jack, invited him inside.
There were perhaps twenty men in attendance. Burly working men and artisans like Dean. Jack recognized a few, but not all. Dean introduced Jack as John Barr, which was his actual first name and half of his surname, and Jack went around shaking hands. He ended up seated beside a whitesmith named John Castle. The meeting began, and they discussed the imprisonment of their leaders, with Dean giving an update on their legal defense.
Jack knew the barristers working on the cases and believed the men were in as good hands as they could hope. After that, they discussed the Manchester march and then lamented the departure of William Cobbett—a radical hero.
“ThePolitical Registerlives on, thanks to Benbow,” Dean said. Cobbett’s newspaper was widely read by the working class, a fact that annoyed many of Jack’s colleagues in Parliament.
Finally, the meeting concluded, and conversation sprang up around the room. Jack decided to start in with Castle and turned to the man beside him. “I think I might have seen you at a meeting before.”
Castle shrugged. “It’s possible. I’ve been coming for a couple of years now.”
“Were you at Spa Fields?”
He chuckled. “If you don’t know, I won’t say.”
Jack supposed that was the best answer—at least the safest one. But it didn’t give him much optimism at getting to the truth tonight. “What about the day Parliament opened. Were you there outside?”
Castle’s eyes narrowed. “Are you referring to the attack on Prinny? You’d best not be accusing me of anything.”
“I am not. I was hoping someone had seen something. Do you know if anyone did?”
“Wouldn’t say if I did,” Castle said firmly.
Jack’s frustration grew. “I don’t wish to get anyone in trouble. I’m only trying to—never mind.” He stood up and started toward the door.
Dean met him before he could leave. “What’s the matter?”
“It was a mistake to come here. I can’t expect these men to trust me, and I don’t know how they can help me. Someone out there is spreading rumors and lies about me, and I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Who are your enemies?”
“Someone else asked me the same question.” Viola rose in his mind, and with it, a burst of longing so strong, it stole his breath. “I didn’t think I had any—at least not anyone who would link me with an assassination attempt—but clearly, I was wrong.” Perhaps he was going about this in a convoluted way. Perhaps he should spend his energy every day trying to determine who trulywashis enemy, who would want to cause him harm in this way. “I’m not even entirely sure of this person’s—or people’s—motive.”
“Seems like that might be easy. You’ve been a champion for people like us, and that must make you unpopular in Parliament sometimes.”
“Yes, but I am not alone in my endeavors.”
“For all you know, others may be experiencing your same troubles.”
That was an excellent point. Jack would speak with Burdett and others as soon as possible to ascertain whether they had encountered any difficulty such as he was.
“Thank you, Dean.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder, thinking it hadn’t been a mistake or waste of time to come here after all.
He left the tavern and caught a hack to take him home.
Being in a hack reminded him of Viola. Apparently, things people said also reminded him of Viola. Was there anything that didn’t make him think of her?
Jack leaned his head back against the squab and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander where it wanted to go. To Viola. Specifically to kissing her in that closet the other night at the ball.
To have her—as Viola, not Tavistock—in his arms had been an unbelievable gift. He’d almost been unable to let go. What was happening to him?
He opened his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. Was this what falling in love felt like? His father would know.
Jack thought of what his father had told him, about not waiting to marry. And yet Jack was committed to his professional path. When the Whigs regained power, he hoped to receive a government appointment. That meant dedicating his time and energy to Parliament, not a wife and family.
His father’s anguish, which Jack had never known about, lingered in his mind. Regret was a terrible emotion.
What exactly was he trying to talk himself into?
