Well, he’d rather surprised himself, too. “I’ve decided to take up my seat in the House of Lords, and as I don’t wish to make a fool of myself, I’m learning its ins and outs.”
Her head canted. “I thought your opinion was that you couldn’t be of any use.”
“I’ve since altered my stance on that position.”
“A beneficial quality in a politician.” The jibe landed with no malice.
He smiled. Oh, but it was good to see her, to have her here. Where she belonged.
“I’m not certain my fellow lords will see it in that light.” He laughed wryly. “For I have a cause.”
“Do you?”
“Workhouse reform.”
“Oh” slid from her parted lips. The fire cast dancing shadows across her face, making it difficult to grasp her expression, but it might be pleased. Possibly more than that.
“Of course, I’m not sure how far I’ll get. I’m thinking of enlisting Mariana in an advisory role.”
Hortense snorted. “Those old nobs have no idea what they’re in for.”
“No mercy,” Jamie said. Gone was his lightness.
“Good.”
He weighed whether or not to speak his next words. “I’ve decided to be useful in the world.” He needed her to know. “Instead of hiding from it.”
“Workhouse reform likely wouldn’t make it far without a marquess backing it.”
“The workhouse has inflicted harm on too many, in particular those I love.”
He watched his words land on her. She blinked. She opened her mouth. She closed it.
“I have purpose. I have my son,” he said, emboldened. “I would say my life is almost complete.”
“Almost?”
“Almost. It will never feel entirely whole.”
An emotion flickered in her eyes, as if she’d intuited what he’d left unspoken.Without you.
Her gaze shifted away. “I saw you with the spirits decanter just now. Has it—have you—”
“A reflex, I’m afraid. I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of it.”
She nodded with understanding.
“Mayhap you’ll tell me why you’re here.” He took a step. He couldn’t not.
She jumped to her feet, a tetchy energy shimmering off her, as if the words she’d yet to express were bursting for release. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. She pointed at his right hand. “You’re wearing your signet ring.”
“Aye.”
“It suits you.”
“Does it?”
“It speaks of solidity and power. Ofyou.”
