He met her eyes and nodded. “But it might be more useful if we approach him after dinner. By then, he’ll have had time to digest what he’s extracted from Grey and Auckland.”
She nodded in agreement, then surprised him by leaning closer and quietly asking, “Is Palmerston likely to bring down Russell?”
She’d picked that up, had she? Devlin dipped his head to murmur, “I would say it’s very likely.”
“With the only question being not if but when?” She met his eyes. “That’s certainly what I’ve sensed from most of those we’ve spoken with tonight.”
Interesting. But he merely nodded as they neared another group of political and social mavens.
On reaching the far end of the room, Devlin glanced over the heads of those they’d already spent time with and was surprised and a touch intrigued to discover that Child had joined the gathering.
As far as he knew, his childhood friend and present-day nemesis had never had the slightest interest in politics. Maybe Child’s years away have given him a deeper insight.
Devlin returned his attention to the ongoing discussion of the blight of continuing slavery in some of the far-flung sections of the empire.
“And from what I’ve heard from m’brother,” Lord Kennedy said, “there’s some bounder on some island off the coast of Sierra Leone still actively trafficking in slaves!”
“The government needs to take more decisive action,” Devlin stated. “Slavery was supposed to have been outlawed in ’33, when Parliament passed the act. Bad enough it took until ’43 and another act to cease the vile practice continuing under the East India Company, but eighteen years on, to still have slaves existing anywhere under British rule doesn’t show government of whatever stripe in any favorable light.”
Others around the circle nodded, and several murmured, “Hear, hear.”
Lord Kennedy shifted closer to Devlin and caught his eye. “I assume you’ll be having a word with Lansdowne. See if you can drop a word in his ear about the Sierra Leone situation, will you? M’brother says he believes it to be quite serious, and it might well impact our ability to deal with some of the native groups, what?”
Lord Kennedy’s brother was the governor of Sierra Leone. Devlin nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good man.” His lordship smiled at Therese, who was standing on Devlin’s other side. “Good to see you here, m’dear, listening and taking note. I suppose you want to steer Alverton on, heh?”
Therese smiled charmingly. “I do think we should circulate.” She regally tipped her head. “Until later, my lord.”
With a nod to Kennedy and the others in the group, Devlin obediently stepped back and allowed Therese to guide him to the next group of guests. Early in their marriage, he’d learned that her social timing was impeccable, and that proved once more to be the case when they joined a circle including the Duchess of Lewes, a senior political hostess.
The duchess smiled approvingly upon them, and they joined the conversation, which revolved about the establishment of schools for workers’ children in the Midlands, a particular interest of Devlin’s that Therese had chosen to especially champion. Soon after, however, Lady Fortescue’s butler announced that dinner was served, and her ladyship rapidly directed her guests into their proper marching order, then led the way to her dining room.
As Devlin escorted the ageing Lady Morpeth—a favorite of his—through the front hall, he overheard two ladies just ahead commenting in approving tones on Therese’s behavior.
“Day by day, she seems to be stepping more definitely into the wider role of Alverton’s countess.” Lady Kilgardie went on, “That’s heartening, given none of us are getting any younger. We need more like her, of her age and status, willing to stand up and, in the years to come, take our place.”
“Very true,” Lady Finchley murmured. “And given the countess’s wider connections, she’s certainly one we should encourage.”
Devlin hid a pleased smile and made a mental note to share that exchange with Therese.
On being escorted to the table by Lord Cromwell, Therese discovered that Lady Fortescue had sat Child on her left. Devlin, meanwhile, was seated diagonally to her right, on the other side of the table. As in such settings it was permissible to talk across the board, that suited her very well.
After chatting to Lord Cromwell over the soup course, she dutifully turned her attention to Child. “I have to confess that I’m surprised to see you at an event such as this, my lord.” Therese took a sip of her wine and, over the rim of her glass, met Child’s charming smile with appropriate skepticism. Lowering the glass, she murmured, “I would have thought the conversation too serious for your liking.”
With his hand rising to his chest, Child sat back, a look of mock dismay on his face. “You wound me, countess.” Then he grinned. “The truth is my father wrote and asked me to stand in for him tonight. I suspect that he and the mater are hoping that exposure to this side of ton life might instill something approaching the seriousness which”—he tipped his glass her way—“so many believe I lack.”
Therese detected an undercurrent of bitterness beneath Child’s deliberately playful tone. She studied his face, then asked, “Do you think that’s likely?”
He glanced around the table, his gaze dwelling on Devlin for an instant before moving on. “If this gathering had more to do with investing, I might summon up some interest, but as I’m a second son and the political baton will pass to my brother, I see little point in developing an interest in this sphere.”
She tipped her head, trying to decide what it was that she’d glimpsed in Child’s amber eyes. “You could always stand for your own seat.”
He blinked at her, then stared as if just noticing some distant vista. After a moment, he returned to the present and more moodily raised his glass. “Perhaps.” He sipped, then more firmly stated, “Perhaps once I’ve rediscovered all I’ve forgotten about life in the ton, I might look in a political direction.”
Deciding to leave that thought to simmer in his mind, she turned the conversation to the opera, asking what he’d thought of the final act. She soon verified that, as she’d suspected, Child had even less understanding or appreciation of operatic performance than Devlin, and when the lady on Child’s other side leaned forward to engage him, Therese drew back and turned her attention to her husband.
While the courses came and went, she devoted her considerable skill to directing the conversations that engaged that section of the table, encouraging those she knew Devlin wished to sound out to air their views on various topics.
Immediately understanding what she was attempting, Devlin was quick to pose questions in support. To Therese’s delight, he and she formed a satisfyingly effective team.
She was doubly delighted when she realized that Child had leaned forward and was listening to the exchanges with apparent interest.
At one point, under cover of a remark by Lord Philpott, Child murmured to Therese, “I can’t decide—is your awareness of such topics driven by personal interest, or are you exerting yourself on Devlin’s behalf?”
The question took her by surprise. After a second’s thought, she replied, “Can’t it be both?” Then she conceded, “Although I doubt I would be so interested—would know enough to be so interested—if being around Devlin and listening to him discuss the issues with others hadn’t opened my eyes.”