LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘You wouldn’t be intruding. Sir Edward and Lady Greaves would love to see you.’ Davie raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You can’t avoid polite society for ever, you know. Eventually, you will be an earl.’

      Giles took a sip of wine, delaying the need to respond. How could he explain to Davie his continuing ambivalence about his eventual inheritance? As Davie knew all too well, he’d been angry and resentful as a young man, once he’d grown old enough to fully understand what his father had done to him and his mother. From the time his aunt pulled him from poverty and sent him to school, he’d been driven to prove he could become successful without any assistance from the earl. He’d thought, as time went on and he built his reputation, his achievements towards that goal would make it easier for him to reconcile himself to the future that must be his.

      So far, it had not, nor had he been able to make himself act on any of Davie’s increasingly frequent reminders that he ought to begin easing himself into his father’s world.

      ‘The current earl is, I understand, quite vigorous,’ he said at last. ‘Who knows, we may have abolished the aristocracy before he cocks up his toes. And since by then, you will most likely be Prime Minister, you will outrank me.’

      ‘The farmer’s whelp lording it over the lord?’ David chuckled. ‘Unlikely. Seriously, you really should become at least a little involved in the Season. Sir Edward and Lord Englemere would be delighted to have you come to any of their entertainments, and once the ton discovered you would actually accept invitations, you’d have a flood of them.’

      ‘What, subject myself to evenings of boring balls or tedious musicales with some dreadful soprano screeching away, or some equally dreadful young miss trying to display her limited prowess at the keyboard? If I want to waste time, I can take a nap.’

      ‘What are you doing this evening? Not staying here napping, I hope.’

      Tread cautiously, Giles told himself. ‘Actually, I have a prior commitment. With, I should point out, a well-respected member of society. I’m invited to dine at the Marquess of Witlow’s.’

      Davie’s hand froze with his glass halfway to his lips. ‘At the Marquess of Witlow’s?’ he echoed, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘With Lady Margaret as your hostess?’

      ‘I expect so, since I understand she usually plays hostess for her father.’

      ‘Did Lord Grey ask you to talk with Witlow? Try to negotiate to find some common ground before the bill comes to the floor that might persuade the Lords to pass it?’

      ‘No, he didn’t.’

      ‘Then how—?’

      Giles had hoped Davie, the most discreet of his friends, wouldn’t press him, but it appeared that wish was not going to be fulfilled. ‘I happened upon Lady Margaret after my speech at the Commons yesterday,’ he reluctantly explained.

      He had no intention of adding that he’d hoped she might come, had castigated himself as an idiot for thinking he sensed her presence while he was speaking, and then had been thrilled to glance up into the Ladies’ Gallery and discover she was in fact in attendance. He’d found himself trotting up the stairs to the Gallery before he realised what he was doing.

      And, ah, the strength of the desire that pulsed through him as she raised those lovely green eyes to meet his gaze… He’d felt an overwhelming compulsion to persuade her to remain with him—and the need to warn her about George had not, at first, even crossed his mind.

      ‘I spoke with her afterwards…’ At Davie’s lifted eyebrow, he admitted, ‘Very well, we took tea together. Before I sent her on her way, she invited me to dinner. Since I haven’t heard from her today, I assume the marquess didn’t tell her to rescind the invitation.’

      Davie let out a low whistle. ‘The lady must have cast quite a spell for you to voluntarily venture into the enemy’s lair.’

      Giles grinned. ‘I don’t expect they’ll have me for dessert. And, yes, I find Lady Margaret intriguing; we had quite an interesting chat about politics during tea. But don’t go picking out names for my firstborn.’

      ‘None of us is ready for that!’ Davie said with a laugh. ‘But I admit, I am surprised. Though perhaps I shouldn’t be. You’ve been alone for some time now, and you’ve never been interested in Beauties with more hair than wit.’

      ‘Lady Margaret is certainly not that.’ Now that he’d been forced to open up about the lady, Giles found it was…a relief, to be able to talk about the object of his inexplicable attraction with a perceptive friend. Davie would give advice if he thought it fitting, and unlike Ben and Christopher, do so without roasting Giles mercilessly about the connection.

      ‘I was attracted to her from the outset, even more so after talking with her after the session. She delivered a rather eloquent philosophical defence of conservatism, but at the same time, was willing to admit there are valid reasons for reform, as well as significant public support for it. I suppose I expected that, as a Tory, she’d be dogmatic and dismissive in her views, and was surprised to find her so open-minded. And so well spoken about politics.’

      ‘She has been her father’s hostess for years. One would have expected her to pick up some information about the process.’

      ‘Perhaps, but you’ve observed many of the political hostesses. They create a congenial atmosphere to encourage dinner conversation, support their husband or relative’s position ardently and campaign with enthusiasm. But most have neither interest in nor understanding of the intricacies of policy. I can’t recall any who could articulate a position with as much eloquence as Lady Margaret. It was…energising to debate what I love with so knowledgeable and passionate a lady.’

      ‘And she’s so much more pleasing to the eye than most of your Reformist orators,’ David agreed with a laugh. ‘But—what of George? If you dine with the marquess, he’s sure to hear of it. One can well imagine his reaction—especially now that he’s lost his seat. Even though you said when you met him at Brooks’s the other night, he didn’t seem disturbed about it.’

      Possibly because he was more disturbed about Lady Margaret—a concern Giles hadn’t divulged to Davie. ‘Perhaps he thinks the earl can countermand the election, as he has fixed every other setback George has experienced. In any event, I broached the problem to Lady Margaret. She was quite adamant that she wasn’t going to allow George to dictate whom she entertained.’

      ‘All very well, but she doesn’t know him as you do. Can you feel easy, setting her up for his possible enmity?’

      Giles shifted uncomfortably. He’d had second thoughts about attending for that very reason, despite his strong desire to further his relationship with the lady. ‘I considered bowing out,’ he admitted. ‘But dammit, I don’t want to allow George to once again try to dictate my life! In any event, he’s more likely to direct his ire at me, rather than at the lady, and I’m used to dealing with it. If he should be unpleasant to Lady Margaret…he’ll answer to me. Nor do I think the marquess would take very well to having his daughter harassed, and he has more power even than the earl. I’m confident I can proceed without causing difficulties for her.’

      ‘If you are satisfied, that’s good enough for me. Enjoy your dinner, then! I’ll be most interested to hear what topics are discussed.’

      ‘I intend to enjoy it—and hope to escape that Tory den with most of my hide intact.’

      ‘I shall be back later to commiserate, if you need to return and lick your wounds.’

      ‘I shall hold you to it.’

      While Davie put down his glass and went off to change for dinner, Giles remained in the sitting room, sipping his wine. He was relieved to find his faith in his friend justified; after ascertaining the basic facts about Giles’s relationship with Lady Margaret, Davie had neither pried for more nor quizzed him about it.

      So, what did he hope to accomplish tonight?

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