by Cheryl Bolen
"And what think you of him?" Mrs. Phillips asked warily.
"No question, the man is brilliant -- if a bit too mean spirited at times," Harry said.
Louisa's brows lifted. "How so?"
"Take his latest piece--"
"The one where he blasts the practice of marriage?" a now eager Edward asked.
Harry's face was grim. "The very one. While I'm not a religious man, I found it far too radical, undermining the sacred foundation of our society. Without family and commitment to family, man would be no better than animals."
"Then you're of the opinion sex, love, and marriage go hand in hand, my lord?" Mrs. Phillips challenged.
"In an ideal society, yes. And is not an ideal society what you seek most heartily, Mrs. Phillips?"
Louisa swallowed. "Yes, of course it is."
Harry got to his feet. "Enough serious talk for now." He glanced at Ellie. "I am sure Miss Sinclair would enjoy seeing the pleasures of London, and it is my fondest hope to be able to show them to her." He directed his attention to Ellie Sinclair. "Is there something you have particularly been wanting to see?"
The girl cast a quick glance at her sister, then back to Harry. "Oh, yes! I should ever so much wish to see the British Museum."
"Upon my word," Edward said, "'tis the most utterly fascinating thing I've ever beheld. Whenever it would be convenient for you, I would be honored to escort you there. I am at your service, Miss Sinclair." The young man effected a bow.
"Oh, Louisa, could we please go today?" Ellie asked.
"I'm sure the gentlemen must have other plans this afternoon."
Harry stepped toward Mrs. Phillips and held her in his gaze. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than escorting two such lovely ladies to the museum."
* * *
The foursome rode to Bloomsbury in Lord Wycliff's sumptuous carriage. For reasons Louisa was unable to understand, Mr. Coke sat next to Ellie while the earl sat next to her. She could not remember any time in her life when she had sat beside a man who was not her father or her husband. She had especially not sat beside such a handsome man before. Of course, Louisa was not interested in men. She did not even like them.
As they came upon the museum, the earl slapped his head. "How stupid of me not to have remembered! They're demolishing Montegue House to make way for the fine new museum which will be built on the site."
Louisa peered from the window and was saddened over the demolition. She'd always loved Montague House.
"I know it's not as novel as the museum," Lord Wycliff said, "but a drive through Hyde Park would be somewhat interesting – and I could introduce you to some Members of Parliament." This he addressed to Louisa, who agreed.
As they rode along, the cousins frequently shot each other amused glances over Ellie's queries. She was most eager to see a thief since her governess, Miss Grimm, had told her they could be found on every corner in London. Mr. Coke even began to tease her good naturedly.
Louisa was glad that his lordship had not sat next to Ellie, for she had observed an uneasiness in Ellie when the earl talked to her sister. With the younger Mr. Coke, though, Ellie was relaxed -- even mildly flirtatious.
It must be the age, Louisa thought with irony. How anyone could prefer the insipid cousin over the earl she could not understand. If one were given to frippery like admiring appearances, anyone would have to admit the earl was far more handsome, more manly. She looked into her lap, willing herself not to think about his unsettling presence beside her, but she found her eyes riveted to his muscled legs, perfectly parallel to her own, yet so much longer.
For the second time in as many days, Louisa was struck by the impression that he was as out of place in frock coat and fine coach as a fish from water.
Unsettling, too, was the earl's sudden interest in the less fortunate. Just yesterday he was throwing around his wealth, vowing to reclaim Wycliff House, one of the finest homes in London. How could a man change so in just one day?
Harry turned to Louisa. "I believe your sister harbors many unfounded fears."
"How perceptive you are," she said facetiously.
She suddenly felt very shabby in her dark gray serge. For the first time in years, she actually desired to wear fine clothing, to look lovely. She told herself that then she would be in a better position to make a good impression on the lords who enacted laws. Her desire to look attractive had nothing whatsoever to do with the man sitting beside her.
By the time his carriage had reached Mayfair, she said, "I am hardly dressed for the grand promenade. I shouldn't wish to embarrass you, my lord."
"It would never be embarrassing to be seen with one as lovely as you."
She went unaccountably mushy inside and could not meet his lordship's probing gaze. "You're very gallant."
"Not at all. Only honest."
She swallowed. "Perhaps tomorrow we could go to the park with you. Then Ellie and I could dress more suitably -- that is, if it would not interfere with your plans."
"I have no plans that do not include you and your charming sister," Lord Wycliff said.
Chapter 3
Mrs. Phillips' perceptions about appropriate appearances had been bullseye correct, Harry admitted as they rode through Hyde Park the following afternoon, the men of his acquaintance fairly throwing themselves in his path while clamoring for an introduction to his lovely companion. Such popularity probably would have eluded her in the drab clothes she had worn the day before.
When he had called for her, Harry had nearly lost his breath when he gazed up the marble staircase to see the extraordinary blonde gracefully moving down the steps. Since she was still in mourning, she wore lavender, a thin muslin that draped over the gentle curves of her body. Stirred by powerful emotions, he was almost glad a woman once again inhabited Wycliff House.
Almost. He must not lose sight of his aim in befriending this unusual woman.
Louisa had to be well pleased with their outing today, Harry mused. Lord Seymour himself had chatted with her and invited her to a ball at his home Thursday night. A coup, indeed, since Lord Seymour's power in Parliament was legendary, despite that he proclaimed himself to be a Whig.
It was actually quite remarkable meeting him since a man as powerful as Seymour had no time for idle jaunts in the park. On this particular day, though, Seymour chose to flaunt his notoriety in an effort to introduce his niece to a variety of Eligibles.
The older man had run his eyes over the exquisite Mrs. Phillips, then tipped his hat to Harry. "Wycliff," he had said, drawing his phaeton to a halt.
Harry drew his carriage alongside of the noted Whig.
"I should like to make you known to my niece, who has just arrived in London from Middlesex," Lord Seymour said. Though he appeared to be speaking to Harry, the man's attention was clearly fixed on the woman sitting beside him.
Introductions behind them, Louisa said, "I cannot tell you how very pleased I am to finally meet you, Lord Seymour."
The man's eyes sparkled, but before he could reply, Harry explained, "Mrs. Phillips is a bluestocking who's desirous of expounding her ideas to powerful men in Parliament. Some might consider her ideas radical."
"Then you must come to a ball my house Thursday night," Lord Seymour said to her. "And you, too, Wycliff. I give you my word, Mrs. Phillips, you shall have my ear then." Taking up his crop, Lord Seymour bid them farewell.
Harry took great pains not to drive in the vicinity of his recently settled mistress, Lady Davenwood, though he was powerless to keep the flamboyant woman from drawing the attention of the two young ladies who shared his conveyance.
"Who, pray tell, is that. . .buxom blond lady in purple?" Miss Sinclair had asked.
Harry obliged her by imparting the information that the woman was Lady Davenwood, then he directed the coachman to drive in the opposite direction.
"I declare," Ellie shrieked, "I cannot believe Lady Davenwood is not blushing scarlet! How can a woman parade about so scantily clad?"
Mrs. Phillips met his gaze, a bemused expression on her beautiful face. "Be careful, pet, or Lord Wycliff will think you are a Methodist."
"You're not?" Harry teased, directing his comments to Louisa.
She gave him a quizzing look. "A Methodist?"
"I would have thought a reformer like you would embrace Mr. Wesley's faith," he said.
"I admit there was a time I examined Methodism closely, but I decided it was not for me," the widow said.
Harry wanted to give the appearance of being eager to understand her views. "And why would that be?"
She thought for a moment before answering. Harry found himself watching her intent profile and thinking of her classical perfection. Something about her touched him in a place no woman had ever ventured, in a way he could not begin to explain. She was lovely, and intelligent, and totally resistant to his charms. In fact, she was the only woman he had ever known who was unimpressed by his title. When she finally answered, he was struck by the soothing pitch of her melodious voice.
"I am not nearly pious enough. Also, I believe the Bible is literature, that it was never intended to be picked apart and taken literally."
Harry lifted a single brow. "Then you do read the Bible?"
She nodded. "And poetry, and Shakespeare, and political treatises."
"And which political tracts do you find most enlightening, Mrs. Phillips?" Harry asked.
"Though it is nothing new, I find Thomas Paine's Rights of Man exciting, and it has undoubtedly influenced thinkers for the past thirty years. Mr. Wesley, too, has certainly made his contributions. And the body of work by Mr. Bentham is without equal. Hannah More is another for whom I hold a great respect. And there's also a young scholar I admire greatly, James Mill's son."
"Would that be John Stuart Mill?"
"You've read him?" Mrs. Phillips asked incredulously.
Harry chided himself for not quelling his usual authoritarian demeanor. He must remember to behave in a far humbler manner. He shrugged. "'Twas a name that popped into my head. I must assure you, Mrs. Phillips, I truly need your guidance."
She silently watched the passing carriages. "Poor Mr. Mill, the younger, was recently imprisoned when all he was doing was trying to help the less fortunate."
"Pray, what was he doing?" Harry asked, concern in his voice.
"He was instructing the ignorant masses on methods of birth control," Louisa answered matter of factly.
Edward coughed. "Daresay it's a lovely day for a ride in the park."
Ellie, turning scarlet now, avoided eye contact with her companions. "Yes, it is," she said in a thin voice. "I do so thank you for showing me around London. I am enjoying it excessively."
As Edward and Miss Sinclair talked of pleasantries, Harry was determined to convince Mrs. Phillips of his sincerity in learning about the liberal thinkers.
"You must direct me to the younger Mill's writings. Your recommendation is a hearty endorsement, to be sure."
A flickering smile played at her lips. "When we return to Wycliff House, I will make my library available to you."
He studied her profile again, unable to imagine her as the wife of the unscrupulous Godwin Phillips. "Tell me, Mrs. Phillips, did the late Mr. Phillips share your enthusiasm for the liberal thinkers?"
Her face went cold. "While he did not share my beliefs, he allowed me to purchase whatever books I desired. When he was alive, I kept them in my chambers. Now, they are in the library."
He decided to probe further. "Did you have your Tuesday meetings when Mr. Phillips was alive?"
She shook her head, and he detected malice in her expression. "No. I went to many meetings, but in deference to my husband's opinions, I did not bring the bluestockings into his home. Or to what I thought was his home."
"Am I correct in thinking your husband would not have approved?"
She swallowed. "You are correct."
He sensed she no longer wanted to speak of her husband when she said, "I do believe you should start by reading Mr. Bentham."
Harry's carriage pulled up in front of Wycliff House. It was still impossible to look upon his former home without being swept up in powerful emotions. As badly as he wanted to regain the townhouse, he knew that possessing it would not bring back the happy times and familial intimacy associated with it -- nor would it ever be the same without his mother.
God, but he needed to see it, to reclaim it. He would spare nothing to gain possession of it.
While Ellie and Edward took a stroll through the square's park, Mrs. Phillips took Harry to her library and stripped it of volumes that would enlighten the uninformed aristocrat.
* * *
Two days later, Louisa sympathetically watched a dejected man walk away into the crush at Lord Seymour's ball. She had been there but half an hour and had already turned down half a dozen men who had begged her to stand up with them. Surely young Mr. Dithers would be the last to approach her. She fixed her gaze on Lord Wycliff, who stood at her left, and found him appraising her with an undeniable look of heated desire. It was the same look that had been on his face when he called for her and she had come down the stairs wearing her new lavender gown. At the memory, color crept up her cheeks, and she broke eye contact.
Perhaps the new dress had not been such a good idea, after all. Though she had made it herself, it had taken a rather dear length to fashion it. She could ill afford to part with the money that went to the linen drapers. At least not until she knew how much was left in Godwin's estate.
The time had come to put her half-hearted mourning behind her. When she had stood in front of her looking glass before Lord Wycliff called tonight, she was almost embarrassed at how the soft silk hugged the curve of her breasts and swept across her other curves in a most revealing way. Even though her neckline was not nearly as low as most other women here tonight, she could not deny that the gown was provocative.
Which wasn't at all what she had intended. All she had wanted was to appear pretty enough to draw Lord Seymour's attention. He was a most powerful man, and she desired nothing more than to channel his power toward her pet projects of reform.
She had to admit Lord Wycliff was becoming sensitive to her views, despite that he was a noble. She detected no embarrassment in his manner tonight when he informed his friends of her radical ideals. In fact, he even spoke of her projects to those men. "Mrs. Phillips opposes the idea of allowing only freeholders to vote," he would say. Or, "Mrs. Phillips promulgates compulsory education," he would tell another. To another, he said, "I say, Mrs. Phillips's suggestions for a hierarchy of criminal offenses -- for the purposes of incarceration -- have much merit."
To which she replied, "Though I should love to take credit for such brilliant ideas, Jeremy Bentham is the genius who devised the scheme."
Harry addressed his companions: "Consider, if you will, a man stealing a leg of mutton to feed his hungry family, getting caught, and hanged. How can so petty a crime merit the same punishment given a cold-blooded murderer?"
Louisa beamed as she watched Lord Wycliff's friends' faces brighten with enlightenment.
After seeing him every day this week, she was beginning to realize not all nobles were committed to the status quo that was so advantageous to wealthy landowners like themselves. Lord Wycliff's progressive ideas had blossomed like spring flowers under her tutelage these past several days. She was not only learning that all nobles were not opposed to change, but also that not all men were totally selfish. If Lord Wycliff would sit in Parliament next session and endorse the idea of extending the franchise, he would gain Louisa's undying admiration.
Even though he would be shooting himself in the foot.
"Lord Seymour has left the receiving line," Lord Wycliff said. Though it was difficult to be he
ard over the sounds of laughter and conversation as well as the strains of the orchestra, he leaned closer to her and whispered, "Come, let us speak to our host. Lord Seymour has rather a penchant for pretty young things. You are quite the loveliest woman here."
"Pray, my lord, do you see me as young?"
"You are young. I must be ten years older than you."
"How old are you, if I might ask?"
"Three and thirty."
The beastly man was right. She was gravely disappointed to learn Lord Seymour could possibly prey on young women. Men! Worthless the whole lot of them.
Of course, Lord Wycliff had said she was the loveliest woman here. Her heart went to fluttering – despite that she had never before wanted to be the object of men's desires.
And she hated herself for such shallowness.
When his hand rested at her back as he led her to Lord Seymour, she experienced an odd feeling of pride. She had been acutely aware that her escort was the recipient of seductive gazes and gushing flirtations from half the women present.
Their host was a distinguished looking man in his fifties. Though slight of build, his voice was commanding, as was his presence. He had obviously grown a swooping mustache as a younger man to add maturity to his slim person. Now it was his trademark, making him easily identifiable in political cartoons.
Louisa detected a glint in his green eyes when she approached with Lord Wycliff.
"I see, Wycliff, you have brought your charming companion." Lord Seymour turned his gaze to Louisa. "Mrs. Phillips, is it not?"
"It is," Louisa answered timidly. She knew she would have to gain firmer control of her voice if she hoped to merit this notable Whig's favor.
"Mrs. Phillips desires to speak with you on matters of reform," Harry said.
Seymour's brows elevated. "I am always happy to discuss reform, my dear Mrs. Phillips."
She moved closer to the notable Whig and favored him with what she hoped was her best smile just as the orchestra quit playing the set. The relative silence that ensued greatly pleased her. Now Lord Seymour could hear her much better. "I particularly desire to impart to you the importance of extending the franchise."
