Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,76
them altogether. Politics. Boring.
“Progress has been made,” she said. “Several acts passed over the years. I suppose that’s why— Drat the man! Where’s a rat catcher when you need one?”
Ashmont followed her gaze. Riding toward them was Oh-So-Holy, on a lively chestnut mare who did not seem happy with the crowd.
“This is the trouble with men,” she said. “One of the troubles. They seem not to know or care when they’re not wanted. I humiliated him in public. I made it plain I was firmly against his bill. Yet here he comes. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s spotted somebody else to bother.”
“Did you look in the dressing glass today?” Ashmont said. “Have you any notion the effect that riding dress has on a fellow?” He gestured at his chest. “When I first saw you, I thought my heart would give out.” The high-necked, tight-fitting bodice exhibited her figure to breathtaking effect. The combination of mind-shattering womanliness and masculine top hat was like to kill a fellow. “Between that and the way you ride—”
“I’m not riding. I’m spending most of my time sitting in one place, glad I chose to take Dora today.” She patted the mare’s neck. “She’s a good, patient, even-tempered girl. As I am not. Curse the man, he is coming this way.”
“Then let’s make the most of it,” Ashmont said. “We’re stuck here. Can’t have any fun behind a curtain. Let’s find out what he’s made of.”
Cassandra didn’t want to speak to Owsley.
Her eighteen-year-old self wanted to flirt with Ashmont. She wanted him to gaze at her in the besotted way that, sincere or not, made her insides tighten.
At the same time, being in reality close on six and twenty, and aware of the rights and wrongs of the world, she also wanted to go on talking about Parliamentary business with him.
Politics. Ashmont. The two didn’t go together. But he wasn’t falling asleep in the saddle. He’d brought up the Sabbath and slavery bills and seemed interested when she referred to the latest factories bill.
It occurred to her that a man adept at planning elaborate pranks ought to be able to grasp the basics of political strategy easily enough. If he wanted to. If he found it challenging. If it wasn’t a whim of the moment.
But here was Owsley. He was ambitious, he wasn’t stupid, and he was a Member of Parliament. For the sake of the Andromeda Society, she needed to think like her father and seek either common ground or a lever for manipulation.
Polite greetings were exchanged.
Then the duke said, “Mr. Owsley, I’m glad you stopped. I’ve been encouraged to take my seat in the House of Lords. Not sure I’m up to it, but we’ll see. To start with, something’s arisen in the Commons, and I wanted your view.”
There it was. Not a passing whim, apparently. Or it hadn’t passed yet.
“I should be glad to be of help if I can,” Owsley said. “If it’s to do with my bill, I should be happy to review it with you, in detail.”
“Your bill wants rethinking,” Ashmont said. “Unsound. As I believe Miss Pomfret has pointed out. She and numerous other parties.”
“Indeed, but these parties have overlooked the crucial matter. If existing Sabbath laws were properly enforced, the lower orders would not be forced to labor on what ought to be a day of rest and reflection.”
“Good intentions,” Ashmont said. “Ill-advised plan. Happy to speak of it at length another time. Help you see the flaws.”
Owsley’s color rose.
Ashmont appeared to take no notice, dismissing the topic with a slight wave of his hand. “I was curious about your position on other matters. The factories bill, for instance.”
“Another subject altogether,” Owsley said. He treated the duke to the same patronizing smile he’d given Cassandra weeks ago, at the lecture. “Too complex to admit of proper discussion here.”
“Complex?” Cassandra said. “You have read the reports? You are aware of the working conditions?”
“I have not had the opportunity to study them closely,” he said.
“Too busy trying to spoil Sunday for the wretches who don’t have kitchens to cook in or horses to ride in Hyde Park?” Ashmont said mildly.
“I don’t see how the facts could be plainer,” Cassandra said. “Everybody has been talking about the reports.”
“Not surprising,” Owsley said. “The interviews with the children seem calculated to play on emotion.”
And he apparently hadn’t any. All his energies were given to making a name for himself and carrying on a moral crusade that applied only to ordinary people.