Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alice left her hand resting lightly on Frederick’s arm as they entered his dining room. Although she didn’t like to admit it, his steady presence made her feel more stable, even with her stick. And he barely seemed to notice her weight, or the way she leaned on him in support.
The necessary introductions were made and Alice prepared herself to preside over the dinner table.
This was another responsibility that she had never been taught—hosting her husband’s political dinners.
The gentlemen, all starched and middle-aged and beyond, all stared at her with open interest, then proceeded to largely ignore her.
Their implication was clear: she had no role here save to smile, look pretty, and ensure that the gentlemen had everything they needed.
She held her glass of wine in her gloved hands and considered how she might go about this evening.
Frederick had shocked her with his defense of ordinary people—people she had not thought a Duke would ever consider.
Reform. She had spared little thought for politics during her transient and chaotic life, but now she thought perhaps she ought to have done.
What changes could she make if she worked toward it?
“Change? What are you thinking, old boy?” One of the gentlemen let his fork clatter to his plate as he turned to Frederick. “You are truly in support of petitioning for reform?”
“Of course,” Frederick said smoothly, dabbing at his lips with a napkin.
Alice watched the movement with a little too much interest. “I believe it is the inevitable journey our country will take one way or the other, either now or in the future, and we should always make an effort to be on the right side of history.”
“But surely you cannot presume that any man can decide the future of the country.” One gentleman, whom Alice had heard introduced as an Earl, curled his lip.
“And if he is not educated? What if he has not enjoyed the schooling we have? Is he to decide our politics for us? Must we invite the inferior to guide the future of our country?”
Alice’s blood boiled a little, but she kept quiet. Frederick considered the question with the calmness she had come to associate with him.
“Do you think that an attorney has a lesser understanding of the world and politics than you or I?” he asked at last. “Do you think that a younger son of a viscount, entering life as a parson, might not be able to offer insights into the plight of ordinary men? Is it not our duty, as respected leaders of our great country, to ensure that we provide for all people?”
“All people?” another man scoffed. “You would prioritize those without education, coarse and unrefined, over your own people?”
A large man with a bulbous nose held a piece of meat on his knife and jabbed it at Frederick. “What’s next, Langford? Allowing stable boys to vote? Giving the vote to women?”
All the men around the table, aside from Frederick, sniggered.
The anger coursing through Alice burned brighter, and she lay down her own knife. “Pray, what would be so dreadful about that?” she asked coldly.
One of the men blinked at her as though in disbelief that she had spoken at all. “This is hardly a subject you can comprehend,” the older man said dismissively. “A Lady’s role is not in the world of politics. Do not meddle in things that don’t concern you.”
Alice ignored Frederick, sure he would be attempting to urge her not to speak. Now she had begun, she would not stop. “How fascinating,” she said, letting a bite enter her words. “Am I unaffected by your choices? Why should I not be given a voice when women bring about the next generation?”
“Hysterical.” Big Nose flicked a hand at her, as though to wave away an annoying fly. “Women cannot be trusted to operate under logic.”
“Is that so? I wonder why you allow women to bring up children, then,” she said, fingers curling around her knife. “I wonder why you choose to marry women instead of one another. If a lady chooses to be well-read, then she can equal a man in intelligence and capability—if not, more.”
“Ridiculous!” Spittle left his lips. “It is well known that women are not capable of bearing such a heavy burden. They should concentrate on their child-rearing, and leave these complex matters to us.”
She raised a brow. “I do not believe I am the one being hysterical here, good sir.”
Finally, she dared a glance at Frederick, expecting a glower. Instead, he pressed his lips together as though he was biting back a smile.
Could it be that he wasn’t horrified at her outburst?
“I think you have been outmatched there, Ramsbottom,” Frederick goaded, raising his glass to Alice in what appeared to be a small, unmistakable toast. “If you are to argue that women are incapable of logic, you should endeavor not to be outwitted by them, I would say.”
“But do you truly believe that women should have the vote, sir?” Ramsbottom pressed, his face turning a rather unpleasant shade of puce.
“As it happens, I see no harm in it. Why should not everyone who is capable of grasping politics be offered the vote, man or woman? You objected to the ignorant leading the country, but what if I propose we offer the vote to the educated? To the knowledgeable? Be it man or woman? What then?”
Alice’s chest warmed, and her shoulders rose and fell with a sharp, heavy breath.
She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
Not only did Frederick want reform, but he was willing to extend the vote to women, and to declare that in front of a room of gluttonous and powerful men.
He had, moreover, done so in a way that defended her without silencing her.
He glanced at her, and she wished she knew what her face was doing, but she rather suspected it was just gaping at him in mingled confusion and awe.
But they were not the only two in the room, and she had a dinner party to host. So she, too, raised her glass into the air and smiled.
“Well said, husband,” she beamed, and if he disliked that she had laid claim to his opinion, presenting it as though it might have originated from her, he said nothing.
Perhaps she had sullied her reputation amongst this group of Lords, but for some inexplicable reason, the Duke had thrown his lot in with hers.
She could not have done more to ruin him if she’d tried. But when he looked at her next, approval glinted in his eyes.
Heavens, she must be dreaming.
She said as much when he took her arm to lead her through to the drawing room. The other men could smoke and drink port in the billiards room if they so chose; he made his allegiance clear by retiring with her.
“I had not expected to hear that you held the plight of women so dearly,” she murmured, glancing up at him.
“And I had not known your skill in debate. Ramsbottom will not soon forget it.” He gave a short laugh. “It is about time someone took him down a peg or two. I am happy you were the one to do it.”
“Not angry?”
“Why should I be angry my wife can hold her own in a room of stuffy lords and politicians?"
She tilted her head. “Most elegant and dutiful ladies do not campaign for women’s suffrage.”
“Then I am blessed in my choice of wife.” He eased her down onto the sofa, and she did her best not to notice the way he effortlessly made way for her, accounting for her needs as easily as breathing. He sat beside her, looking her over curiously. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I—” The denial was on her tongue, and she should have uttered it.
The last thing she needed was for Frederick to believe he had somehow done her a favor by allowing her to preside over the meal.
But… it had been satisfying to talk back, and she liked the way that Frederick had given way to her, allowing her the freedom to speak. “Yes,” she admitted finally.
“Excellent, because there shall be plenty more opportunities for you to host dinners in the future.” He rose. “I should attend to the guests at the billiards room—”
“I would like to smoke a cigar.” The words were out before she could stop them. “And drink port.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Why, so you may disgrace me in public?”
“It would be disgraceful for a Duchess to smoke a cigar in public,” she conceded, doing her best not to smile. “And port is not a lady’s drink. I know that, too. But I’m curious.”
“Perhaps when we are alone. Your political aspirations I can condone, but not the smoking of a cigar.” He took her hand, twisting it as he brought it to his lips, and kissing her inner wrist. The very slightest scrape of stubble alighted her nerves, but he merely dropped her hand and strode to the door.
“I will encourage them through before long,” he said when he reached the doorway. “If it pleases you, and you happen to have some more arguments in favor of political reform at the ready—you may deploy them at any time it suits you.”
“Frederick…” she said as he left. He half turned, one hand braced against the doorway, then glanced at her through the corner of his eyes.
“That is the first time you have ever used my name.” His voice scraped like gravel across her skin, and she almost shuddered.
“Thank you.”
He executed a formal bow, but the heat of his gaze was still on her, eyes glittering with an emotion she couldn’t name, but felt very much the way his lips against her skin had. “You are most welcome, wife of mine.”
This time, when he left the room, she let him.
And when she did her best to remind herself of all the ways she hated him, the image that kept coming to mind was the way he had saluted her with his glass, eyes heavy and dark on hers.
“What’s this I hear about you being an activist, darling?” asked the dowager countess as she entered the room, skirts swinging. “London is practically buzzing with the news.”
Frederick barely glanced up from the paper he was reading.
Shafted light fell through the library windows, and for once, Alice was somewhere among the shelves, searching for a book.
Ever since her conversation with Helena, he’d noticed the way she had returned to the library again and again, although he didn’t know what she was searching for. Once he did know, he would send for it.
“Aunt,” he said lazily, turning the page. “Someone could sneeze in Oxford Street and you would know about it within the hour.”
“I had it direct from Lord Billingsgate that you were supporting votes for women.”
“If you are asking whether it is a bill I intend to enter to the House of Lords, then the answer is no.” He turned the page. “I am interested in reforming our current political system, especially as pertains to votes.”
Over to one side, he saw Alice’s back stiffen as she listened in to the conversation.
They’d spoken little since the dinner. Every time he made progress with her, she took a step back, and he knew better than to fight it now.
Besides, he had his own business to be getting along with, and more rumors to quell.
His aunt sat herself down on the chair opposite him and lowered her voice. “Was he also correct in saying that you have been influenced by your wife in that way?”
“I imagine many men are influenced by their wives—”
“Frederick!”
He chuckled lowly. “In a manner, yes. She ventured her opinion, and I thought it was soundly made. I voiced my support. You are behaving as though I had attempted insurgence against our king.”
“No, of course not. And you know, I am always in support of women given a greater voice in our society—heaven knows we have suffered enough with men at our helm. I merely wanted to confirm that you spoke in support of her.”
“Of course I did,” he said impatiently. “And I thought she expressed herself well. Not every lady can brave what she did and with such poise. If I did not know she had not been raised as a lady, I would have thought she had entered Oxford and debated with the rest of us.”
His aunt sat back. “Good. That is what I had hoped to hear. There is a chance for you yet.”
“Perhaps.” He returned to his newspaper. “Have you come to see Alice? She is here somewhere.”
“How is the doctor faring?”
Uneven footsteps sounded behind them, and Frederick didn’t look up as Alice herself appeared. “I think I have seen some small improvement,” she said with a smile in her voice. “It is hard to know precisely, but at the very least, the massages have assuaged the pain.”
His aunt beamed, and Frederick did his best not to scowl.
After the incident in the carriage—which haunted his dreams and made him awaken hard and aching—she hadn’t allowed him to massage her again, and he wished she would.
But they were still making progress, and he wouldn’t fight against what he had once thought would never be possible.
“I’m delighted to hear it,” his aunt chirped. “Come, sit with me and tell me how you’ve been doing these past few days. How was the dinner? I can think of nothing worse than entertaining a room full of stuffy old Lords, especially when they have their heads—”
“Aunt,” Frederick chided gently. “Much as I love you, I think it best if Alice is not influenced by your colorful language on the subject.”
Alice laughed, and he peeked at the dimple on her cheek. That had not been there when they’d first married, he was sure—he would have noticed it. Could it have appeared now she seemed to be eating better?
“Didn’t you say much the same thing, Your Grace?” she asked. “How hypocritical to tell your aunt she cannot say those things.”
“If I recall correctly, I expressed myself somewhat more euphemistically,” he noted wryly. “My aunt has a dreadful habit of delivering the truth with not even the attempt at finesse.”
“Well, why should I coat reality in an unhealthy dose of sugar?” his aunt demanded, and Alice laughed again. It was the most he’d seen her smile or laugh—well, ever. “No amount of sweetness is going to change reality.”
“You may be honest with me, my lady,” Alice smiled.
“Oh, now, we’re family. You must call me Elizabeth.”
“Then you must call me Alice.”
His aunt beamed, and Frederick hid his smile behind his newspaper.
He’d always suspected the two ladies would get along like a house on fire—they had the same bluntness, the same opinionated feelings, and they both had suffered in an accident that had left a permanent mark—but to see it unfold before his eyes was a remarkably special thing.
There was hope after all. But there was still more he could do to improve his new wife’s life and make her come around to him.