James glanced at the innkeeper, who was leaning on a table, chatting with a patron.
“He doesn’t appear to be in a hurry?—”
“He’s being polite. Best not take advantage.” Ethan addressed Wally and his friends. “Enjoy your evening, gents—next round is on me.”
As Wally and his pals stomped their feet and waved their canes in appreciation, Godwin pushed James forward. Before James could turn to scowl at his brother-in-law, Ethan grabbed his arm, and James found himself being herded away between them.
“What are the two of you doing?” James demanded.
“Saving your hide,” Ethan muttered. “Or, more precisely, your ears.”
“They begin to bleed,” Godwin explained. “By the time Wally gets into the tenth hour of his story, and you realize that he’s only on the prologue.”
“He seems like a decent old chap?—”
“He is, and that is how the trap is laid,” Godwin said darkly. “One minute, you are being courteous to the kindly old codger. The next, you’re being led around the village on a tour…that never ends.”
A few moments later, the innkeeper seated them in a private parlor, hidden behind a tatty blue curtain. The cozy table had just enough space for the four of them, and a mullioned window offered a blurry view of the dark square. A buxom serving maid brought them foaming tankards and a trencher of bread and cheese.
Ethan broke a piece of hot, crusty bread, slathering it with butter. “If that was any indication of how the hustings will go, you appear to be in fighting shape.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” James sampled the ale, which was full-bodied and creamy. “No matter how prepared one is, one never knows how such an event will go. Crowds are wildly unpredictable. A single comment or heckle can turn a supportive audience into a mob out for blood.”
“Why expose yourself to potential violence?” Owen studied the slice of crumbly cheese on his plate. “There are better ways, surely, to win votes.”
“With only three months until the General Election, this is the quickest path—and an exercise to separate the wheat from the chaff.” James exhaled. “I have significant backing from the party, but I haven’t won everyone over yet. I must prove that I am the worthiest replacement for Henry Gosford.”
Dunsmuir had put it bluntly. “You’re in the lead, but you haven’t secured the nomination yet, old boy. Influential members, including our lovely patroness Lady Morgana Vernon, want proof that you have what it takes to beat Ryerson—and that you don’t share Gosford’s Achilles’ heel for scandal. The hustings will be your chance to show them your mettle.”
Or a chance to fail spectacularly.
James shoved aside the thought. Doubts got one nowhere. Preparation was the key.
“Assuming you haven’t set up a love nest with an actress somewhere, these are not hard shoes to fill,” Godwin said.
“It is not enough to be free of scandal. I must be worthy of representing the people who have placed their trust in me. I want to be a catalyst for meaningful and lasting change?—”
“Save your campaign speech for the hustings, brother.” Ethan feigned a yawn. “You already have our votes. The reason we proposed tonight’s outing wasn’t to discuss politics.”
James quirked a brow. “There was an ulterior motive for the invitation?”
“There’s nothing ulterior about it.”
The looks Ethan exchanged with the other men put James on edge.
“To prove it, I shall inquire plainly.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Is everything all right between you and Evie?”
By Jove. That is forthright.
“While I appreciate your concern, my marriage is a private matter.” Deflecting was a reflex, as was the lofty tone he’d honed during his lifelong tenure as the eldest son and heir. “I will not discuss it.”
“I hate to puncture your hot-air balloon,” Godwin drawled. “When ladies are involved, there is no such thing as privacy.”
“Evie would not speak of?—”
“According to Gigi, your countess is as much of a clam as you are. But females, they have a sense about these things. Gigi is worried about your happiness.” Godwin shrugged. “As I do not wish for her to be troubled for any reason, I agreed to broach the topic with you.”
James found himself grappling with the fact that his baby sister was aware of his marital conflict…and that she’d sent her husband to investigate.
