Page 14 of Isabel and the Rogue

After casually inquiring about the location of the viscount’s office, Sirius mentally recited the story he had fabricated as an excuse to pay the man a visit. But when he arrived at Westhope’s office, the viscount was not in sight. Biting back a slew of curses, Sirius pivoted, staring down one end of the hall and then the other. He tapped his hat against his palm as he contemplated what to do. Would the viscount be at the club? It was still a bit early, but it was possible. Or perhaps Sirius could track him down to—

“I’m surprised to find you here, Dawson.”

Jerking his head about, Sirius smiled when his gaze collided with Gideon Fox’s.

“I’m not a complete stranger to these halls, you know,” he said after regathering himself, holding out his hand in greeting.

Fox shook it, a warm smile in his eyes if not on his lips. His friend possessed a reserved nature, and was a man who kept his emotions locked tight. Sirius thought Fox would have made an excellent officer, leading soldiers with his firm and steadfast example. But Fox had shunned the military in favor of politics. He had made a name for himself in Commons as a firebrand, a reputation he imagined would be bolstered by his marriage to the politically savvy Ana María Luna. Although the pair had caused quite the scandal when they first returned to London after their marriage, they were quickly winning over critics and foes alike.

Truly, Sirius should have assumed Fox would be at Westminster, for if he was not with his lovely wife, he was stalking the halls of Parliament, garnering support for his many proposals, and lending his voice and his vote to all manner of causes.

And it occurred to Sirius that if anyone knew about Westhope, it would probably be Fox.

“Would you like to come back to my office while I finish up a letter, and then we can get a drink?” Fox jerked his thumb at the open doorway behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a stiff one.”

Sirius nodded and silently followed his friend back to his office. He whistled when he stepped across the threshold and looked around.

“Faith, this space is much different than the one you had when I first met you.”

And it was. At least three times the size of the narrow office Fox had been given when he’d first won his borough seat. Now, his friend’s large oak desk sat before a set of beveled windows, painting his desktop in sunlight. A bookshelf lined an entire wall, with a plush velvet settee tucked into the corner. It was a space designed to make an impression, and pride for his friend swelled Sirius’s chest. Fox had waged numerous battles to find success within Parliament, and Sirius was happy he was receiving the recognition and respect he deserved.

Sliding into one of the armchairs angled before Fox’s desk, Sirius gestured to the bookshelf with his head. “If you would like some suggestions for books to fill your shelves, let me know. It appears your collection is off to a stellar start.”

From where he sat, Sirius spied a nice selection of both fiction and nonfiction books; poetry collections and philosophy tomes; and history volumes, in what appeared to be both English and Spanish. The sight brought a smile to his face.

“Isabel has been assisting me with building up my library. I had wanted to keep all my books at home, but she insisted that I need a collection here as well. She claimed it solidified the perception of me being a learned gentleman.” Fox smoothed his hands down his lapels. “Ana agreed, so who am I to say no?”

Seeing his stoic, proper friend so happy with his wife and marriage had jealousy sinking its claws into his throat. Sirius was of an age where most of his old schoolmates were married and filling their nurseries, and yet he was still perfecting the life of a wealthy bachelor about town, tumbling into beds with various ladies and courtesans, and coloring the gossip pages with his conquests. It was all a facade, of course, meant to hide the true seriousness of his endeavors, and those same endeavors made settling down impossible. And lonely.

But even if he could steal a piece of domestic felicity, Sirius knew he didn’t deserve it. Why should he get to marry and have a family, live a full life, when so many of his men—men infinitely better than him—did not have the opportunity?

So instead, Sirius pushed down all those feelings of what could have been, and focused on what was.

“If Miss Luna is assisting you with your book selection, I will graciously surrender the floor, for she has excellent taste,” he said.

Fox tilted his head to the side. “I wasn’t aware you and Isabel had spoken of books.”

“While you and your lady wife were celebrating your vows at Dancourt Abbey,” Sirius began, noting with a twinge of amusement when Fox severed eye contact to dutifully study his desktop, “Miss Luna and I had several conversations about the state of my library and what books I could acquire to elevate it.”

“Yes, well”—Fox coughed into his fist—“I am still indebted to you for everything you did to ensure Ana and I could marry, and marry in such fine fashion.”

Fox had offered to marry Ana María to protect her and her sisters, and Sirius had hosted them at Dancourt Abbey for their wedding and the first few weeks of their marriage. He’d had an up-close view of his friend’s marriage of convenience as it morphed into one of love, and the happy memories of such an event imbued the old abbey with a bright, cheerful light. His staff still spoke fondly of the “pretty Mexican sisters” who had spent the summer with them.

And now Sirius wished he had taken time to actually converse with Isabel beyond a few exchanges, whether about books or her fascination with balloons or her fear of heights, instead of avoiding her. Sirius couldn’t help but feel as if he had squandered an opportunity.

“You owe me nothing, my friend.” Sirius shook his head…to dismiss Fox’s suggestion and to clear his thoughts of the younger Miss Luna. “I know if I were ever in need, you would assist me just as readily.”

“Of course I would.” Fox propped his elbows on the desktop and set his chin in his folded hands. “Now tell me why you’re here at Westminster.”

His knack for getting right to the point was a reason Sirius liked Fox. “What do you know of Viscount Westhope?” he asked, keeping his voice as deceptively innocent as he could.

But Fox was not fooled, for his gaze narrowed minutely. Still, his friend was discreet, and did not give voice to any of the questions flashing in his dark eyes.

Fox leaned back in his chair, tipping his head toward the coffered ceiling. “Westhope is a nice fellow. Friendly, gracious, easy to converse with. If I find myself at a meeting with him, I try to take a seat at his side, for he will not drone on and on in my ear when I’m intent on following the conversation.”

Friendly, gracious, and easy to converse with was Sirius’s impression of the man, as well. But such an impression provided no hint of the man’s sympathies toward the French, and as long as they remained unknown, Lieutenant Colonel Green would continue to scrutinize him.

“So you would say he’s serious about voting his seat?”