Eoin found himself surprisingly fascinated by the plight of the vanishing Scottish wildcat. He almost didn’t notice when the other patrons left or when the core members of their investigating group arrived and began drawing up chairs. But as soon as Hannah sat down, Eoin’s senses crackled to life. Even though he was still looking at Dr. Talbot, his body seemed attuned to Hannah’s every movement.
“Where’s the new Duke of Falcondale and his wife?” Mr.Powys asked, his lilting Welsh intonation tempering the abruptness of his question.
“They’re touring my brother’s Lake District estate for their honeymoon,” Lady Charlotte, who’d sat next to her husband, explained. “They hope to attend the next meeting.”
Eoin felt a sliver of disappointment that Alexander Lovett would not be attending. It was, after all, Lovett’s writings as Willoughby Wright that had first inspired Eoin to think differently than his grandfather. But he wasn’t here to talk to his favorite satirist.
“I called this meeting because I was wondering if anyone knows about the Horse and Hen,” Hannah announced before she briefly explained Eoin’s connection to the place.
“What if we discover that this tavern is still a cradle for reformist ideas?” Mr. Powys crossed his arms, his fingers balled into fists, as he openly studied Eoin. His mistrust was so palpable that even someone not versed in reading the sentiments of others would clearly detect his suspicion. “How are we to know that Foxglen won’t report that information to the king? Perhaps this search for his mother is a ruse designed to ferret out royal opposition.”
The playwright’s words didn’t bother Eoin. They made logical sense, and Eoin had done nothing to earn this man’s trust. Swounds, how could Mr. Powys glean Eoin’s true character when he had so much difficulty defining it himself?
“Foxglen was a crucial part of stopping the mass poisoning at Court, and he’s never breathed a word about it,” Lady Calliope pointed out.
“My point exactly. He saved you nobles and kept the king’s secret.” Mr. Powy’s distrustful gaze had transformed into a full glower as he regarded Lady Calliope.
“You are the one with the bias,” Lady Calliope shot back.Her sky blue eyes glittered with emotion, and like Mr. Powys, she clenched her hands. “We nobles are not a monolith.”
“Nor are we commoners.” Mr. Powys’s response was swift.
Hannah broke in to the argument. “This is not productive. I am beginning to think that we cannot have meetings with both of you present.”
“I still believe they’re flirting,” Lord Percy said.
“That is most assuredly not the case,” Lady Calliope admonished at the same time Mr. Powys said, “Bollocks.”
“Then prove your point by not exchanging barbs.” Hannah spoke through her gritted teeth, clearly not afraid to reveal her frustration.
This was a particularly lively group. Eoin had never experienced so many sharp turns in a discussion, and he found he rather enjoyed being part of such chaos—even if he was the object of the debate.
“Mr. Powys’s concerns about me are valid,” Eoin admitted in his normally steady tone, even though his heart was vibrating. He did not want these people to reject him—and not just because he needed their assistance.
“Hear that…” Mr. Powys waved his hand in Eoin’s direction as he addressed Lady Calliope. However, he trailed off in the middle as he probably realized that he was touting the word of the very man whose honor he’d questioned.
“I am aware of my reputation, but I have no desire to injure the folks who may have sheltered my own family,” Eoin said. “That is why I waited to search for my mother and sister until after the duke’s death.”
Mr. Powys watched him closely. “You seem honest, but I know plenty of good actors.”
“My talents do not lie in that area,” Eoin admitted. “I can hide emotions but not feign them.”
“I can attest to his sincerity.” Hannah smiled broadly in his direction, and Eoin felt like he’d just emerged from the depths of a dank cave into the brilliant sunlight. He was not accustomed to anyone championing him, and he found he rather liked the unexpected support.
“Besides,” Eoin said slowly, “I did not get the sense that the Horse and Hen is a place of political discourse—at least not anymore. The air was edged with violence, not subterfuge. It is likely a boozing or flash ken.”
“How do you know those words for a den of thieves?” Hannah’s green eyes widened as she leaned in his direction.
Eoin allowed just the corner of his right lip to tip upward. “Do I appear that naïve?”
“Well, you almost did get pickpocketed.” Hannah nudged his arm, clearly to show that she meant only to tease. He would have realized her intentions just by the skin crinkling merrily around her eyes, an indicator of a true smile, but he welcomed the physical touch.
“I will confess to being sheltered, but I’ve read thousands of pamphlets and circulars—anything that could be useful to a potential advisor to the king,” Eoin stated.
“You admit, then, to gathering information for the monarchy?” Mr. Powys interrupted.
“My grandfather wanted me to become a courtier to win back the favor that my father lost. I have no such ambitions.” There. Eoin had finally said it. A definitive statement about his own desires for his life.
“We keep allowing ourselves to be sidetracked.” Hannah slapped her hand down on the table.
