“What brought you to our shore?” Lord Baxter asked next.
“I invited him,” her father interjected. “After hearing about him from a friend of mine, I wrote to him, inviting him to come to England to meet with us.”
“What do you think of our glorious land and its people so far?” Baxter held up his hand to her father, but there was no need. No one could answer the question but Michael.
“I’ve only been here for a day. I haven’t seen much.”
“And its people?” Longsley pressed.
His sapphire eyes shifted to her for a moment. She was looking at him, so she saw.
“Courageous and courteous,” he answered.
Lord Longsley laughed, almost as if to mock him. “Aye, and beautiful, no?”
“Aye,” Michael said under his breath. He nodded and reached for his cup.
“Tell me—” Lord Baxter began from across the table.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Charlotte interrupted. “Let the poor man eat his dinner!”
Everyone was quiet after that and enjoyed their three-course meal of chicken fricassee, stewed carrots, ham sliced cold into thick cuts, meat pie and pastries, and venison. The second course consisted of custard pudding, roasted vegetables, and smoking hot potatoes with melted butter.
They rested before dessert, everyone agreeing on the deliciousness of the food. Especially the rare potatoes. Her father was praised for serving other delicacies as well, like asparagus and venison. The duke soaked in his accolades, knowing his prestige gave him power.
Charlotte excused herself from the table, as had some others, and went to stand by the window. Agnes, one of her parents’ servants, brought her a hot drink made of roasted oranges, sugar, and port. It was delicious.
“Where were you tonight?” Michael’s voice came up behind her.
“I already told my father. I was overcome by a headache. Would you like to speak to my maid, Anna?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. My brain never stops working.”
He smiled a bit lopsidedly and she thought he might be drunk. Her father was serving his best wine tonight.
“Did you know that if I want the man I put in jail to stay there, I have to pay for everything? Do everything?”
“Aye, I know the law,” she told him and watched him down his hot drink. She cringed, but he didn’t seem to mind the heat.
“I want to help them change it. Damn! That’s good!”
“Oh?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. Her father never told her what they spoke about at his gatherings. “You want to help them change the law?”
“Yes. You need more constables and prostitution.”
“Pardon me?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You said we need more prostitution.” She grinned. “Is that what you told them?”
He looked at her as if her nose or lips just popped off. “Prosecutions.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Pros-e-cu-tors! Yeah. That’s right! What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, Michael.”
“People need to go to jail for their crimes,” he suddenly brooded.
“Even me?”
