Josephine grimaced. “Our little Amelie pulled out every book I had concealed behind a false panel in my desk. Along with them, she found the invitation cards I had prepared for our next meeting. I had them especially prettily made, with gilt decoration and lettering. And Amelie, bless her heart, wanted to share her newly found treasure and took them straight to her papa.” She sighed. “He caused something of a scene, I am afraid.”
Viola shook her head. “But why is it so dreadful to have a book club? Surely we are not the first. There must be many such meetings, and it is entirely harmless. Is it merely because it concerns romances?”
“He calls them wanton, depraved tales of unnatural passions.” Josephine rolled her eyes. “I don’t think his reaction would have been nearly half as severe if Mr Eldon hadn’tbeen with him just in that moment.” She winced. “And he was thoroughly scandalised.
“A Tory’s wife reading such sensationalist filth,” Josephine went on bitterly. “Books of corrupting influence, he claims. Tales of forbidden appetites that unsettle the female mind and ought to be prohibited. He even spoke of raising the matter in Parliament.”
“What balderdash.”
“Precisely. Any sensible person would dismiss such nonsense at once. But that is not the heart of the problem.”
“No?” Viola said faintly. What more could there possibly be?
“The problem is that Eldon is spreading the story, and it is already damaging William’s, I quote, ‘moral integrity’. The virtue of our entire household is called into question. He has been cut by more than one person because of it.” Josephine sighed. “He insisted I attend this evening, together with him. I am here to conduct what he calls damage limitation.”
Viola swallowed. “And what is the worst that could happen?”
“That he falls out of favour with influential backers.” Josephine said bluntly. “If he loses his patrons, he may not keep his seat at the next election.”
“Is it as bad as that?” Viola exclaimed. “He would lose his seat in Parliament merely because his wife reads romances? That sounds tremendously far-fetched to me. How can that make any sense?” Viola wrapped her arms about herself. It was unthinkable what might happen if they were ever to discover what Fane’s wife was truly occupied with.
“Politicians are expected to be of the highest and most virtuous character. Did you not know?” Josephine’s voice was edged with bitterness. “They all have their hands dirty, of course, but so long as it remains neatly swept under the carpet, everything proceeds as it should. Bring it into the open, however, and the situation becomes quite another matter. Ithas made William terribly vulnerable. Having a Whig wife who advises him on how to vote is one thing. But an outspoken Whig wife who publicly reads sensationalist rubbish is quite another.”
Viola flinched. “Please do not call it rubbish. Call it licentious, shocking, dangerous, even poisonous, but never rubbish.”
Josephine’s face broke into a smile. “You are entirely right, my dear. To call the literature we most enjoy rubbish is belittling, and quite unjust to our intellect. We are not less intelligent for enjoying romances, nor are our interests of less consequence simply because they do not involve passing bills and governing the country. I daresay our little book club contributes more to the harmony of society than the squabbling of the men in parliament.” She sighed, lowering her voice. “You are not truly one of them, either, are you? A Tory, I mean. How delightfully delicious that Fane, of all men, is married to such a little rebel!”
“Shush.” Viola cast a quick glance about and continued only after assuring herself that no one was near enough to overhear. “The truth is, I don’t really fit into any political category. I suppose I am rather too liberal-minded for most people here. But neither am I a Whig.” Sebastian had once suggested, jokingly, that she might be a radical. Was that what she was? She could not really identify with that term either.
“Ah.” Josephine flicked her gaze toward the door. “I understand perfectly. Here they come, the gentlemen. And there you may observe William, already hard at work, licking the Prime Minister’s boots. He must ensure he does not fall from grace, even if his wife is deemed somewhat lacking in it.”
The men had indeed reentered the salon. Sir William was officiously holding the door open for Liverpool, all eagerness and deference, which was rather sickening to behold. Sebastian followed close behind.
Their eyes met briefly.
There was a quick, but definite flutter in her stomach. Viola’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress. “Who would have thought that such innocently written tales might possess the power to cause such havoc among powerful men,” she murmured.
Josephine snorted softly. “My dear. Say what you will, but our reading material is anything but innocent. Ahem.”
They looked at one another and burst into simultaneous giggles.
“I did not knowyou were so well acquainted with Sir William’s wife,” Sebastian said the moment they were settled in the carriage on their way home. He was leaning back into the shadowed corner, so that Viola could not see his face. “You appeared to be very friendly.”
“Josephine? Yes. We get along well.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “You are even on a first-name basis with her. How long have you known her?”
Viola considered. “Several weeks, I believe. She was one of the first people I met when I arrived in London.” Has it really been so long already?
There was a pause.
“I should like you to invite her to supper one of these days,” he said pleasantly. “Along with her husband, of course.”
“Certainly.” Viola shrugged. “Though why so suddenly? Oh.” She leaned forward, attempting to peer at his face in the darkness. “I remember. It is that matter for which you need his vote.” She snapped her fingers. “I forget what it was exactly. Something to do with punch? Negus? Ale?”
“Whisky,” he said sharply. “Taxation on whisky, to be precise.”
“Ah yes. That was it. You wanted it lowered.”
