Company of Rogues 8 by Jo Beverley

Author:Jo Beverley [Beverley, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-05T01:53:33.421000+00:00

She’d thought that if this deception were uncovered, it would only be disastrous for her. But Stephen was at risk, too. He wouldn’t be ruined but he would lose some of the respect of these people.

Most men of fashion, even MPs, wouldn’t care about being discovered in an assignation with a widow, but Stephen might. He was held in high respect not because of rank or wealth, though he had a modicum of both, but because of who he was. She searched for the best word and settled on a Biblical one. He was a righteous man.

He worked hard, and not only for selfish ends. Most MPs were in Parliament to increase the power of family or faction. Stephen, it would seem, was working to make life better for people of all sorts. Once she might have made a joke about anyone in her circle being “righteous.” Now the realization weighted her with a sense of inadequacy.

What place did Lady Skylark have in the life of Sir Stephen Ball? She could win him votes at the hustings by lively charm, but she’d lose him as many from those who disapproved. He didn’t even need that kind of help. Barham wasn’t a rotten borough, but the voters there would return him to Parliament as long as he was willing to stand.

She could run his household and throw glittering parties that might sway important people he wanted to influence, but she suspected that wasn’t Stephen’s way. She had only rarely seen him at ton affairs.

Could she fit into the mold of his life? Live quietly, helping him with his research and arranging occasional dinners for groups of serious-minded men who would regard any woman at the table as a distraction.

She supposed, with a sigh, that she could chair committees of ladies working to support worthy goals.

She’d been on such committees—it was expected of any lady of fashion—and she’d liked being useful, but she knew she couldn’t dedicate her life to that. She liked parties and balls and musical soirees. She liked laughing and flirting and charming men. She liked being at the center of the fashionable world.

If she had to live quietly at Caldfort in order to take care of Harry, then she would, but she couldn’t imagine choosing to live a sober, serious life in London, not even with Stephen. It would be like forcing a gourmet to live on gruel within sight of fine cuisine. That made her a despicable, shallow woman, but it was better to know it now than too late.

The Grantleighs invited them to lunch, but they could plead their other engagement.

Laura entered their parlor and studied Stephen, trying to blend the handsome man of fashion with righteousness. “Perhaps you should be in disguise, too,” she said.

“I certainly didn’t anticipate Grantleigh. Are you all right?” Was that question because he knew holding to her character had been a strain or because he detected something?

She turned away, fussing with her gloves. “Yes, of course. I don’t like to live a lie, however.

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