What in blazes is Ryerson doing here?
On the surface, Eustace Ryerson was the picture of respectability: tall, robust, and composed to the last button. His dark hair was carefully pomaded, his cravat flawless. His expression was mild and polite…if one failed to notice the tiny smirk on his thin lips. His wintry eyes were a window into his character. Cold and hard, they were convinced of their own clarity.
“I have brought you a surprise, my lord,” Lady Vernon said lightly. “I thought the two of you ought to get better acquainted before the hustings.”
Her charm did not cover her ruthless stratagem. Wanted to throw two gladiators into a ring, did she, and see who emerged victorious from the match? James felt the excitement of the surrounding guests, who watched the exchange like Roman spectators, sampling canapés and sipping on champagne. Lady Vernon was not only testing James’s mettle, but she was doing so publicly: to make sure she’d picked a winner this time and not a loser.
Gosford’s warning surfaced. Keep your enemies close and your friends closer.
That was the way of politics, and James had to accept it. Even if it went against the foundation of who he was. The honor and decency he espoused.
“A pleasure to meet again, sir,” he said with a bow.
“The pleasure is mine,” Ryerson replied. “I was not certain you would be present this eve.”
“Why would I miss such an agreeable event?”
“Not by choice, of course. But I heard you were struck down by illness after visiting the parish infirmary.” Malice glinted in Ryerson’s gaze. “A well-intentioned act, no doubt, but it serves to remind us that man’s remedies are not God’s. Disease, like poverty, will not be cured by Acts of Parliament but by acts of Providence.”
“I do not believe God intended men to die for want of medical treatment,” James said evenly. “My illness and recovery only reinforced what I know to be true: the privilege of good health should be available to all—not just those who can afford it.”
“My lord, I fear you grow impassioned. Perhaps it is the aftermath of your illness—fever is known to erode rationality.” Ryerson’s sharp barb earned muffled laughter from the audience. “Yet we cannot forget where we are. All this talk of contagion and death will surely offend the sensibilities of these esteemed guests. I know you are new to politics, sir, but never forget the importance of delicacy and respect.”
The nerve of the bastard, taking refuge behind civility, when he advocates for barbaric measures that punish the poor and leave the sick to die.
“The truth may not be pleasant or polite, but it is, nonetheless, the truth. Given the choice, I would deal with honesty, in all its forms, rather than falsehoods, no matter how pretty.”
“Quite the idealist, are you not? Cut from the same cloth as Gosford.”
“While Gosford has my respect for his many years of serving the public good, he and I are not the same,” James said evenly.
“That is true. Scandal has ruined him, but you are an honorable fellow. One from an impeccable lineage and whose reputation is untarnished. Have a care, however: no man is impervious to rumor and gossip.”
Something flickered in Ryerson’s eyes—glee. Though the gloating light vanished the next instant, it left unease coiling in James’s gut.
Does Ryerson know something? Has he somehow caught wind of Evie’s past?
“The higher one rises, the harder the fall, as the saying goes,” Ryerson said airily.
James’s suspicion grew, and he was scrambling to counter when Evie emerged at his side.
“Darling, you promised me a dance.” She turned a guileless look upon Ryerson. “Oh, forgive me. I see you are otherwise engaged.”
Lady Vernon made the introductions.
Ryerson bowed over Evie’s hand with a flourish.
“My lady, every great man must have his guiding star,” Ryerson said grandly. “Lord Manderly is fortunate to have found his in you. I daresay your charm and steadiness keep his enthusiasms in check.”
The condescension—and the fact that he was using Evie to deliver the dig—shot up the pressure in James’s veins.
“How kind of you to say, sir.” Evie’s manner was honey-sweet. “However, my husband keeps his own counsel. Indeed, his enthusiasms, as you put it, are quite catching and have won him many admirers, of which I am one.”
“Your devotion is admirable,” Ryerson said with a brittle smile. “As you undoubtedly nursed Manderly back to health during his illness, you do so now with his reputation.”
“My husband’s reputation needs no nursing. It is, and has always been, in the pink of health.”
“No man is perfect,” Ryerson said shortly. “In reputation or in health.”
