Page 28 of Everything But the Earl
“And her name is…Margaret?”
Clairborne rolled his eyes. “Matilda.”
“Yes, right.”
“I take it by your lack of attention to detail that you will not be asking her to dance at the next ball.”
“I daresay I feel obligatednow. I am not in the market for a wife myself, though.”
“Nor am I advocating for you to offer for her. I am just saying, she is on the market now. I’m making conversation.”
“Ah, I see. Well, tellMatildato save a dance for me at her next appearance, eh?”
Clairborne assented and loped off.
Anthony was aware of the fact that Owen didn’t like him, likely because Owen harbored a familiar prejudice against men who dallied with other men, but at least Lark’s other friends were more accommodating. Anthony set out to find them when he was accosted by another MP, this one Jacob Tipton, the elderly Duke of Foxborough.
“I say, Beresford,” he said, placing his cane in Beresford’s footpath.
Anthony fought not to roll his eyes.
“Can I count on your attendance at Parliament next Thursday?”
“I will consider it. What is the occasion?”
Foxborough let out a husky chuckle of a laugh. “Right to the chase you go! I feel we must rein in the spending of the Prince Regent. He has asked for more funds to decorate one of his palaces, but do you not think the money brought in from British taxpayers should go toward improvements?”
“Certainly the roads in London would be top of my list,” said Anthony, willing to indulge the old duke. “I nearly lost a wheel on my favorite barouche the other day because of a large divot in Haymarket Street.”
“Capital! I agree wholeheartedly. So I can count on your vote?”
“I will give the issue the attention it deserves.” That was Anthony’s stock answer for most issues in Parliament. His attendance was sporadic and mostly depended on how bored he was any given day, but he did have a seat in Lords and had once been the deciding vote on a very important bill regarding the safety of factory workers in Yorkshire. That is, fewer factory workers would lose limbs to the machinery now that safety precautions were in place; Anthony felt good about that.
He found Lark next, standing near a fireplace, staring at the fire as if it held the answers to life’s questions.
What Anthony wanted to do was pull Lark into his arms from behind and hold him there until he spoke about whatever was bothering him. Alas, they were in public, and Beresford knew they’d gotten careless and were doing a poor job of hiding their affair, so he really should behave himself. Instead of touching Lark, he walked up beside him and said, “Schilling for your thoughts?”
Lark looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Not a pence?”
“Inflation, you know. Cost of goods these days. I am just trying to keep up.”
“You spend too much time in Parliament.”
“There are a lot of men here who feel the opposite. It seems everyone has a bill and would appreciate my vote on it.”
Lark frowned.
“What is it?” Anthony asked.
“I heard a terrible rumor that someone in Parliament wants to advance an anti-buggery bill. It would mean anyone caught could be hanged.”
“Is that not already a law?” Anthony tried to sound casual.
“Likely it is, but it’s one of those laws nobody sees a need to enforce. Inthiscase, some MP in Commons wants to make an issue of it. He has a notion that this is a way to attract votes from the general public, since he has to run for his seat instead of being born into it.”
“How many buggerers do you think there are in London? A few hundred?”
“Are you keeping count? Did you write down their names as they paraded through your bedroom?”
