When Lansdowne completed his exposition, Devlin put several questions. He was amused when Therese, not intimidated by Lansdowne but being careful to pander to the older man’s expectations, rather than pose her own questions, couched them as thoughts and musings, which nevertheless drew the required information from the marquess.
Devlin had to wonder if Lansdowne was even aware he was being managed.
Regardless, as the evening progressed, Devlin continued to be exceedingly grateful as well as pleased that he had Therese by his side.
The following morning, Devlin elected to accompany his wife to Sunday service at St. George’s Church in Hanover Square.
He sat alongside Therese in a pleasantly relaxed state and allowed the sermon to wash over him. He couldn’t be said to be a regular churchgoer, but in common with most gentlemen of his ilk, he showed his face occasionally—in his case, whenever he wished to take advantage of the habitual post-service gathering on the church porch to make contact with his politically or business-minded peers. Not that they always attended, either, yet the venue was a useful one at which to exchange information of the sort that might not be discussed in more formal settings.
Today, however, he was there purely for the chance to spend more socially sanctioned time with his wife. What was more, he could rest assured that he would not have to contend with any distractions posed by either Child or Martin; neither, he judged, was likely to appear within the hallowed precinct.
The service rolled on, undemanding; he responded to the minister’s prompts by rote. When the congregation rose to sing the final hymn, he shared a smile with Therese as they stood, then indulged himself by listening to her clear alto voice melding with the organ, the choir, and the other parishioners in a stately paean to the heavens.
After the final extended note faded, the minister raised his hands, and the congregation bowed their heads for the benediction. Once that was bestowed, the minister led the way up the aisle, and Devlin roused his mind from its contented, near-somnolent state and proceeded to escort Therese up the aisle in the minister’s wake.
Delighted to have Devlin beside her, Therese smiled and nodded graciously to this lady and that couple as she and Devlin progressed in the usual slow shuffle up the nave. She always appreciated having his arm to lean on, his protective presence by her side, yet many matrons attended Sunday service without their husbands, especially during the Season, and now, in October, with quite half the ton’s families having already retreated to the country, the congregation at St. George’s, the ton’s favored church, had thinned, and she was pleased to have Devlin’s company, although she seriously doubted his purpose in being there was in any way connected with the care of his soul.
As they neared the main door and the minister, she dipped her head toward Devlin and murmured sotto voce, “Is there someone specific you hope to see?”
She assumed that was why he was there, and after the encouragement she’d received the previous evening—from everyone, but most importantly from him—to further develop her interest in his political career, she was eager to pursue that path and learn more.
To her surprise, he murmured back, “Not really.”
She shot him a faintly startled look, and glancing ahead, he smoothly added, “But if we come upon any of my peers from the Lords, that would be an added bonus.”
They’d reached the door, and it was their turn to greet the minister. She was forced to face forward and smile and extend her hand and exchange the usual pleasantries, even while the question A bonus added to what? echoed in her mind.
Devlin dragged his wits from their satisfied wallowing and, while shaking hands with the minister and commending him on his sermon, ruthlessly refocused on his campaign.
Smiling urbanely, he turned from the minister, grasped Therese’s elbow, and steered her to one side of the colonnaded porch. Rapidly scanning the crowd, he dipped his head and murmured, “There’s Kilroy with his wife. I’d rather like to have a word in his ear about some of Lansdowne’s ideas.”
He released her, assuming she would seize the opportunity to talk with some of her female acquaintances, but instead, she laid her hand on his sleeve and walked by his side to where Lord and Lady Kilroy were chatting with two other ladies.
All three ladies recognized Therese, which made it a simple matter for her to breezily make the introductions, then take command and engage the ladies in a discussion of the latest style of headdress. A quick glance directed at Devlin plainly stated she was clearing his way and leaving Kilroy to him.
Devlin hid a grin as, entirely predictably, Kilroy turned to him in relief.
His lordship leaned closer to confide, “My compliments to your wife, Devlin—dashed if I know what to say to all these females.”
Devlin smiled understandingly and launched into a brief outline of one of the subjects Lansdowne had raised. He concluded with, “The question is whether we are for or against abolishing the requirement for property ownership for election to the Commons.”
“Hmm.” Kilroy frowned. “That was one of the Chartists’ demands, wasn’t it?”
The two other ladies had just taken their leave, and Therese and the somewhat older Lady Kilroy had turned to their husbands in time to hear Kilroy’s question.
“What is one of the Chartists’ demands?” Lady Kilroy asked.
Briefly, Devlin explained, then continued, “While no one is proposing to adopt the entire petition, the feeling is that the government should at least be seen to be examining those reforms that patently have some merit.” He gave a wry smile. “This is Russell, the reformer, after all.”
Kilroy snorted. “Still, I can see the point for representation in the Commons. Can’t see that it will make any odds to us in the Lords.”
“True. I would assume most of us will be sitting on the fence—a vote for won’t impact us in any way. The only concern I can see arising is over what such a change might mean for who governs in the lower house.”
With respect to that point, Therese asked what Devlin and his lordship felt might, hypothetically, constitute a danger. “Assuming the requirement for property ownership is revoked.”
Somewhat to Devlin’s surprise, the answers to that led the four of them—for Lady Kilroy had been a keen observer of politics for more than a decade and wasn’t backward in stating her views—into an animated and far-reaching discussion.
Lord Compton and Lord Gisborne, overhearing some remarks and made curious, came to join the group. Therese encouraged the pair to air their views, and in short order, the engagement had broadened in scope far beyond what Devlin had initially envisaged.
Far beyond, he was the first to admit, the scope it would have attained if the four peers had been left to themselves. The ladies, both of them, introduced viewpoints and possibilities the gentlemen hadn’t immediately perceived.
By the time Lady Compton and Lady Gisborne swept up to reclaim their spouses, their group was among the last left standing on the porch, and none of them had noticed the time passing.
Sincerely thanking each other for their company, they parted. With Therese on his arm, Devlin walked toward where their carriage waited around the corner in the square.
“That was,” Therese informed him, “invigorating.”