Chapter 7 #3
Roman was already speaking, though. And glancing at Lyness, which meant the older brother expected the younger to take part in the conversation. Which centered on politics, at first. Lyness listened, or tried to listen, to what his brother was saying.
“I think our party has taken on too much in terms of the entertainments for the races. If anything goes wrong, rather than blame one lord or committee, it will all come onto our party’s head.”
Mr. Holly, the family’s solicitor and a man who had gone to school with Roman, stared into his glass as though the liquid inside had offended him.
“There is nothing to be done about it at this point. The Tories have practically backed us into a corner. None of them have curried favor with the elite of London. Not for this specific occasion. I would not be surprised to learn they have told members of the opposition to stay away entirely.”
“Surely, no one can sabotage the races that way,” Jack Sterling said. “I have never attended them, but I have heard of them often enough to know they are an historic staple to all who care for racing. The same track has been used for a hundred years, has it not?”
“And may it continue for one hundred more,” Mr. Nelson, the eldest man present, said with a nod. “Cheer up, my lads. I have seen twice as many races as all of you, and I tell you that no one remembers who hosted which balls, unless they were uncommonly good or the site of some ridiculous scandal.”
“Well then,” Phineas said with a crooked grin, “we can hope for mediocre balls and solemn scandals, if there must be any scandal at all, and it will go well for us. And the party.”
“I am more concerned with York as a whole,” Roman muttered.
“Of course you are,” Thaddeus Nelson responded, eyes rolling upward. “Heaven preserve our blessed York, and Roman Eastwood, Baron Hartwell, will be happy as a lark.”
Roman snorted, and Lyness couldn’t help a smile of his own. When Roman cut him a disapproving look, Lyness shrugged. “Your mania for our city is well known, brother. It is the easiest place to nettle you or to jest. If you would not have it so, guard your love more.”
“I haven’t any need to do such a thing,” Roman retorted, folding his arms over his chest.
Jack leaned forward, suddenly serious. “You would be surprised, Lord Hartwell, what exposing your heart to the world can do. One would hope it only brings admiration and understanding, but I have seen such a heart become a target instead. Your enemies, political or otherwise, will all know where to strike to see you undone.”
The mood immediately turned somber, and even Phineas had nothing to say on the matter. Instead, he looked at Roman with a contemplative frown.
Lyness thought of the pamphlets Roman funded, the speeches he gave in rooms thick with smoke and argument.
His brother called it conviction. Others, less kind, called it courting danger.
There was more to it than supporting historical preservation.
Political enemies could use Roman’s love of his city against him.
Denying projects. Shifting public opinion.
Ruining his carefully laid plans unless he gave way in other areas.
Even merely dividing his attention. When one wore one’s heart on his sleeve, he made it an easier target.
It fell to Lyness to half-soothe, half-cheer the party. “It would be difficult to hurt the city itself, with as many protectors as it has, and my brother would not know how to speak if he could not declare his loyalty to the place of his birth. I think York in good hands with Roman.”
“And I will drink to that,” Phineas said with a raise of his glass. The others followed suit. Even Jack.
The conversation turned, and it was Phineas again looking to stir up something. “Mr. Sterling, your sister, Lady Emily, is quite charming. It was a pleasure to be one of her dining companions. Would you not say so, Hartwell?”
Roman lowered the glass he was drinking from. “Yes. Most charming.”
“And?” Phineas asked, eyebrows raised as he leaned forward somewhat theatrically.
Lyness wanted to box his ears. A somewhat violent urge, coming on so suddenly it surprised him. He hastily put both his hands flat on the table. Then paid close attention to his brother.
“And…” Roman appeared confused by the question, looking from Phineas to Jack. “She is sweet-tempered. Well spoken. When she does speak. Is she always so subdued, Sterling?”
Jack shrugged one shoulder upward. “No, indeed. But there were new faces in the company. I am certain she is finding her way and will grow more comfortable voicing her thoughts. In time.”
“I do not doubt you are right. She does a credit to your family, Sterling.” Roman raised his glass slightly. Not a true toast, but a polite enough compliment. His brother’s neutral tone lightened the pressure in Lyness’s chest.
The baron had not made any public movements to court Lady Emily. Roman may well still consider other options. That made breathing easier, and it made Lyness all the more eager for the company in the drawing room.
Whatever his mother had hoped for or planned regarding Lady Emily, it might come to nothing after all.
Giving Lyness leave to admire the beautiful, intelligent, kind woman as much as he wished.
Without feeling that he encroached upon something that rightfully belonged to his brother, a thing that he could not ever allow himself to do.
For the first time that evening, he felt truly at ease.