Chapter 6
Alexander found Sebastian Cadzow at a coffee house not far from the skeletal remnants of the Palace of Westminster.
It was an establishment frequented by many men who made their living within those fire-gutted halls and he recognized several members of the Commons and Peers as he walked in.
Sebastian sat in the bay window of the coffee house, known as Black’s, situated on the Tothill Road, not far from the Abbey.
The common room was crowded with men standing or sitting, engaged in conversation, or simply perusing a newspaper, as Sebastian was.
Still bewildered and angry from Lady Violet’s sudden rejection of him, Alexander barged his way through to Sebastian’s table.
One man turned angrily, reaching for Alexander’s arm to remonstrate with him.
One look at the Duke’s face was enough to turn him away, swallowing outrage.
Sebastian saw him and kicked a chair out from under the table.
“Take a seat, my friend. You look like you need one. A coffee over here if you please!”
Alexander sat down, leaning forward, hands clasped on the table.
“What news of the bill?” he asked tersely.
“That is what has you in such a taking?” Sebastian asked with an arched eyebrow.
He wasn’t drinking coffee, having dined only a couple of hours ago at the Ravendel house. Instead, he had a wooden tankard which, by the smell, contained porter beer, though he had hardly touched it. Alexander took the tankard and drained half the contents.
“Keep yer coffee! Give me a cup of this!” he called out.
“The Bill was not approved. The Tories have tabled an amendment for a week’s time.
The amendment will be read and debated before another vote on whether to send it back to the Commons,” Sebastian said easily.
“A long time in politics, I can assure you. Plenty of time to ensure we have the votes to drive it through. But that is not what has you so upset.”
“Upset? Upset? A man doesnae get upset. He gets ragin’ angry. And that’s whit I am, I can assure ye,” Alexander snapped, his Glasgow dialect racing to the surface.
Sebastian sat back in his seat, putting his feet up on the chair opposite and folding his arms.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“I recognize that the men we seek an alliance with will not be confident in my ability to steer this bill through. Because I am not a Duke born to the purple. I am a Glesga chimney sweep who grew up in a Catholic orphanage and was a child labor slave. I have two choices. Either I remove my name from it altogether and go sit on my backside in Hampshire. Or I convince them I am every bit the…English Duke as they expect.”
The word English was almost spat out and Sebastian frowned.
“But you are a Duke born to the purple. And an English one at that.”
“I do not feel English. Or…purple,” Alexander said with chagrin.
A smile tugged at Sebastian’s lips at that. “You look a bit…purple I mean,” he said, then laughter burst from him in an explosion.
After a moment spent looking at his friend with a dangerous look in his eyes, Alexander found himself laughing too.
“I suppose I do, at that.”
He finished his friend’s porter beer as another tankard was placed before him. Sebastian put his hand over the top to prevent him drinking.
“You have a reputation. Coffee would be more politic for you to be seen drinking.”
“Aye, I’m aware that I have a reputation. What business it is of anyone else’s where I do my drinking or of what, I cannae ken,” Alexander said bitterly.
“You are a politician now, old boy. A member of the House of Lords, the mother of Parliaments. And politics is undertaken based on reputations and names. If your name is sullied, your reputation not impeccable, you will gain no traction with these men,” Sebastian said earnestly.
“So, tell me who can help me to mend my ways. To fit in with the…Ton!” Alexander said hotly.
“I would say the foremost expert on etiquette and the most respected Lady of the Ton is Lady Violet Ravendel,” Sebastian said.
“Aye, that was what I heard. But she’s turned me down,” Alexander said. “Not all at once of course. First she accepted, agreed to help me. Then she refused. With no explanation beyond that it would not be appropriate.”
Sebastian nodded. “Ah, someone got to her, did they? Clued her in on your dissolute reputation and frightened her off.”
“Aye, and I’d like to know who. I’d like to give him a doin’!”
Sebastian shook his head. “Sorry, old boy. You lapsed into the vernacular there and I didn’t follow. But I get the sense.”
“I am not trying to do this for my own gain. I do not seek power or influence. I just want to help those children out there who are in the same boat I was in. But who are not lucky enough to be the bastard son of a Duke.”
“I know. And the Whig party appreciates your altruism. That is why we have supported you when this bill was passed by Gray’s government. We wanted to see it enacted. But your reputation is hurting our cause.”
“So, how do I persuade Lady Violet to help me?” Alexander said, pushing aside the tankard.
“My wife has an opinion on Lady Violet’s motivations,” Sebastian said, putting a long finger to the side of his nose, conspiratorially.
“It is common knowledge that Lady Violet was raised by the Ravendels from birth as a daughter. And that it did not come out that she was not a Ravendel by birth until a few years ago. The identity of her father is unknown. The story that has been put about is that he died and was a relative of the Viscount.”
“How does that help me?” Alexander said.
“My wife has heard a whisper that Lady Violet has been seeking information about her true father. Discreetly, but she has been asking. And her Uncle has not been forthcoming.”
Alexander sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, and glaring at Sebastian.
“It seems that you’re suggesting something underhand. I do not like what I am hearing.”
“Nothing underhand, old boy. Politics. Remember? The game you need to learn how to play if you want to achieve success in your crusade against our labor laws, or lack of them.”
Alexander grunted. He stared out through the bay windows and saw a young boy pass, barefoot and black with soot, lugging chimney brushes over his shoulder. The sight made him clench his teeth.
If I can endure becoming a respected member of this society which I hold in contempt to help a child like that, then it will be worth it.
He turned back to Sebastian, cold-eyed, leaning forward once more.
“Very well. How do I use this information?”
“You have the resources to find out who her father is. If she was born in London, there will be a record. If she is the child of nobility, which it seems she must be, even if it is on the wrong side of the sheets, then there will be a record of some kind. Master Gellert and his firm are the finest solicitors in London. I also use them, incidentally.”
Alexander nodded, remembering a phrase he had come across during his hasty education. “Quid pro quo. I offer to help her in return for her help with my cause.”
Sebastian grinned wolfishly. “We’ll make a politician out of you yet.”
Alexander was not so sanguine. It felt as though he would be using her. She had agreed to help him out of compassion initially. Then had been scared off by his reputation. And he didn’t do his case any favors when last they were alone.
Damn these people for their judgment. Those people they look down their noses at are essential to clean their houses, cook their food, work their mills and…sweep their chimneys. But, don’t let anyone catch you actually speaking to such people.
He swallowed his ire, realizing that it was beyond his control.
I have to play the game by their rules. Lady Violet can help me, and in return, I can offer to help her.
Standing, he put out a hand to Sebastian. “Sebastian, you are a good man. If a devious one. I will…set the wheels in motion,” Alexander said.
Then he was leaving the odious place, shoving aside any too slow to get out of his way and masking the pleasure he felt at hearing their outrage.
The last time I can allow myself such an indulgence. I must blend in with them from now on. But first, I must find a way to communicate with Lady Violet.