At her words, the arousal he’d been trying to ignore hardened further. Devil’s teeth, but he needed to master the always simmering, ever-increasing desire her nearness evoked! Concentrate on making sure she feels comfortable and included, he instructed himself.
‘I hope so,’ the Marquess said as he led Faith into the dining room. ‘My Maggie lives and breathes politics, but she’s never had a female friend who shared that passion. She’s thrilled to find that you have an interest. You must come visit us more often—even if, as I expect, your association with Mr Smith would have you favouring the Reform agenda. With my daughter now married to a reformer, I shall be beset on all sides!’
‘Mr Smith and I used to debate politics, but that was many years ago. As you know, the late Duke was not politically inclined, so I know much too little about the bill under consideration to “beset” anyone with my opinions,’ Faith said as her host seated her.
‘You’ve come to the right dinner party, then,’ Lord Coopley remarked from his end of the table. ‘With these rum customers present—’ he gestured to Giles and the Reform MPs ‘—you’ll hear every point of view, worthless as some may be.’
‘I trust, my lord,’ Giles said, taking a seat adjacent to Coopley, ‘we shall eventually hammer out a compromise even you can agree with.’
‘Are they always at loggerheads?’ Faith murmured over her shoulder to Davie, who had followed her in protectively and halted beside her chair.
‘Always, though now that Giles has married his friend Witlow’s daughter, Coopley isn’t quite so brutal,’ Davie replied softly. ‘Giles used to feel lucky to return to our rooms with his skin intact.’
‘I know so little about the discussion tonight,’ she said, once again sounding apprehensive. Impulsively, she reached out to touch his hand. ‘You will help me, so I don’t make a complete fool of myself?’
Davie’s toes curled in his shoes as he resisted the to desire to link his fingers with hers. ‘You could never do that. But if you get confused, send me a look. I’ll insert some explanation. Don’t worry—you’ll be fine.’
She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you, Davie. You’re always so kind.’
Though, as the highest-ranking woman present, Faith was seated as was proper beside their host, Davie was surprised to find their hostess had indeed fudged protocol by placing a commoner adjacent to her, rather than further down the table. As he looked at Maggie with a lift of his brows, she smiled and said, ‘As a Member of Parliament, you should rank with the others. And besides, isn’t the ranking of men based on their talents, not their birth, a tenet of your beliefs?’
‘Humph.’ Coopley sniffed. ‘An excuse to give any upstart with a glib tongue the power to agitate the rabble! Though in fairness, I must grudgingly agree that Mr Smith possesses considerable talent.’
‘Far more than some men of exalted rank,’ Giles observed.
Coopley gave a bark of laughter. ‘Far more than the one we mentioned earlier tonight, that’s for certain! No matter, we’ll tend you now, girl,’ he said, turning to Faith. ‘Only sorry I don’t have any unmarried sons to send courting.’
Much as he’d wanted her to have a husband who appreciated her, Davie felt an immediate stab of protest at the idea of Faith marrying again. Please Heaven, not yet. Not until...what future could he possibly envision?
‘I don’t need that sort of “tending”,’ Faith was replying, the blush returning to her cheek. ‘I’m not even out of mourning yet.’
‘Not much to mourn for,’ the irrepressible baron declared. ‘Ah, here’s the first course. Always know there will be fine food on your table, my dear!’ he said to his hostess. ‘Need to fortify myself before the hard bargaining starts.’
For a time, as the various courses came and went, conversation was general. Davie ate little and talked less, his attention focused on Faith. Urged on by their skilful host, she was induced to talk about her sons, a topic about which she soon became animated, describing them and asking the Marquess’s advice about their upbringing.
‘I would certainly recommend getting them into the country more,’ Lord Witlow replied to her question. ‘Never too young for the little Duke to start learning about his land and tenants. Though I regret he never developed an interest in politics, I’m proud of the work my son Esterbrook has done on our estate, which he began running when he was still a boy. Besides his duty to Parliament, there’s nothing more important than a landlord’s care of his land.’
‘I would like to get Edward to Ashedon Court more often, but now that the Dowager has moved back with us, it’s no easier than when her son was living. Both much prefer staying in town.’
‘Take them on your own, then,’ the Marquess advised. ‘They no longer have a father whose permission you must secure, and I imagine the trustees will approve any decisions you make about their care that seem reasonable.’
‘I really may?’ Faith asked, her eyes lighting. ‘I would love that! Although we visited so seldom, I know almost as little about Ashedon Court as my sons.’
‘Time to learn more,’ Witlow said.
‘Might have a care, though,’ Coopley added from his end of the table. ‘It’s a hotbed of radicals, from Liverpool and Manchester, out into Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire.’
‘Is that a problem?’ Faith asked.
‘Those are the cities and the areas that currently have no, or limited, representation in Parliament,’ Davie explained. ‘Over the years, there have been demonstrations and protests.’
‘Riots and destruction of property, more like,’ Coopley countered. ‘Depending on how close Ashedon Court is to the disturbances, I could see why your late husband might not have wanted to install his family there. Though proximity to his London doxies rather than his family’s safety is more likely the reason for his remaining in town,’ he added, mirroring thoughts Davie wouldn’t have been tactless enough to voice.
Apparently armoured now against the baron’s bluntness, Faith barely blushed. ‘Mr Smith told me the new industrial cities of the north, having not existed when Parliamentary districts were drawn up in medieval times, were among those most vocal in calling for revamping the way Members are chosen. There were also towns and districts from that old assessment who now have very little population, yet retain their representatives, aren’t there?’
‘Exactly,’ Rowleton, one of the Reform MPs, said. ‘For instance, Dunwich has thirty-two voters, Camelford twenty-five, Gatton seven, yet each of these send two representatives to Parliament. While Liverpool and Manchester, with thousands of souls, send none! It’s a travesty we must address, and the Reform Bill does.’
‘Perhaps, but you would take away votes from some districts that have always had them,’ the Tory, Lord Howlett, said. ‘That’s not just, either.’
Normally, Davie would have launched into the discussion himself, but tonight, he was much more interested in watching Faith, her eyes sparkling, her lips curving into a smile as she followed the banter and debating points being scored up and down the table.
* * *
All too soon for his liking, the meal ended, brandy was brought in, and Lady Lyndlington rose. ‘Before anyone comes to fisticuffs, we ladies shall leave you gentlemen to sort out the details. Duchess?’
‘A fascinating discussion, which I am so pleased you allowed me to witness,’ Faith said. ‘I can now claim to be much more knowledgeable about the great work going forward.’
‘Yes, and you can warn those drawing-room idlers like your late husband that they need to get their lazy arses to the Lords,’ Coopley added. ‘Find out what is going on, with the most important decisions to be made in four hundred years about to voted on! A crusty old curmudgeon like me couldn’t persuade