But she’d never bothered to discover the details as to what exactly it was that he was doing. And she certainly had not known how important his work was. Maybe the problem was that she detested politics and never touched any newspapersif she could help it. Great-Aunt Augusta had only subscribed to the local newspapers that focused on the Edinburgh social scene, not London. She really ought to make some attempt to understand what on earth it was that he was doing.
She scratched her nose, leaving a trail of strawberry jam on its tip, and picked up her teacup.
He studied her for a moment thoughtfully, then set his letters aside. “Since we are speaking of the matter. Let me inform you that parliamentary elections are coming up in June. They are of paramount importance.”
“Not to me,” she muttered into her teacup. “But I am certain it must be terribly important to you.”
He frowned as though she had just revealed she did not know the earth revolved around the sun.
“A general election determines the composition of the House of Commons. The party that commands a majority forms the government and the King appoints the Prime Minister.” He’d slipped into that insufferable schoolmaster tone one used when speaking to an ignorant child, which only had the effect of infuriating her. “The outcome will determine who holds power, which policies are pursued, and which bills become law. Whether we address the crisis in Ireland with relief or repression. Whether Catholic emancipation advances or stalls for another decade. Whether thousands live or die.”
Her eyes grew round. “You are saying it could literally end up being a matter of life or death.”
“For the people in Ireland, certainly.”
She swallowed. She hadn’t regarded it in this light.
“I accept your disinterest in these matters. This isn’t your world, and neither should it be. However—” His eyes turned to narrow slits. “Neither flippancy nor lightness is justified if you don’t fully understand the gravity behind the matter and what is at stake. The consequence is immense.”
She felt the reproach in his words and sat up, stung.
“I would never make light of?—”
“Good.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
“Lord Liverpool has held the government together for six years. If he loses his majority, everything changes. Alliances. Appointments. Priorities.” He turned the letter opener in his fingers. “Men who have spent years working toward stability may find themselves out of office overnight. Men like me. A man in my position must be above reproach.”
He really was good at speaking.
She really stood no chance.
Scowling, she set down the teacup with a hard clink.
“I quite understand what you are implying, Mr Fane.” Sarcasm laced her tone.
“I wonder. Do you, indeed?”
She met his eyes full on. “What you are saying is that for a man like you, of such tremendous consequence, with such a far-reaching reputation, and with the upcoming election of such paramount significance, having an ignorant, unfashionable wife like me is a liability. An embarrassment.” She leaned forward and whispered. “A secret wife. Oh my. What will they say?”
“I see we understand each other perfectly,” he lashed back. “I have worked too long and too hard on my career to be undone by careless talk at a dinner party. Or by a wife who treats the fate of nations as tedious breakfast conversation. It would be a disaster if you were to do so in public.”
Viola leaned back and placed a hand on her heart. “Have no fear, sir. I have no intention of publicly acknowledging our connection. Ever. I have not done so in nine years, and I certainly shall not begin now.” She lifted her chin. “As far as society is concerned, I am Lady Viola Leigh, spinster. A woman of independence, visiting the city on private business. No oneneeds to ever know I am your wife. In fact, I insist upon upholding our agreement.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”
“We will simply continue doing as we did before. We may be married, but we lead separate lives. I shall keep my distance from you. We shall not be seen together. If we encounter one another in public, we shall be strangers.” She was warming to the idea now, her voice gaining force. “It is the perfect arrangement. You may continue your important political career without the inconvenience of a wife, and I may continue my life without the inconvenience of a husband.”
A beat of silence.
“Quite so,” he said softly.
Just that.
Then he simply returned to his letters.
Viola glumly reached for her toast and discovered she had lost her appetite.
