Chapter Eleven #2
Before he could find some way to claw that unintentional confession back, it was her turn to scoff.
“You do not need to use your well-practiced charm to make me feel better about their disdain, your grace, for I am well used to being glared at down an aristocratic nose. Almost as much as I am to being rendered invisible by them. We are disposable and too easily replaced to even feature in their thoughts. That is the unique curse of a servant. To always be underestimated simply because we weren’t born to privilege and to always be judged solely by our humble exteriors. ”
Then she grinned. “But be assured that while I am outwardly demure and seemingly oblivious to their scorn, as is expected from someone from my lowly station, internally I am judging them just as harshly as they are currently judging me. Perhaps even more so because I am such a prickly cynic. What pathetic creatures those two ladies must be to feel threatened by me? Even if I am currently talking to the most eligible peer in the ballroom.” There was a twinkle of mischief back in her fine eyes now.
“How does that feel, by the way? To be coveted by every single young lady present who is in want of the most titled husband?”
“Awkward,” he said truthfully. “Annoying. But…” He nudged her playfully with his elbow.
“That is the unique curse of us dukes. To always be underestimated simply because we were born with a silver spoon in our mouths and always be judged solely on our impressive title and even more impressive ducal exteriors.” Then he winked.
Purely to get her reaction. Or perhaps to flirt. He really wasn’t sure which.
“Again, your practiced charm is wasted on me, your grace, as I have always tried to judge a man on his measure and not a lofty title that he inherited purely out of happenstance.”
“Dare I ask how I measure up?” He was in grave danger of genuinely flirting now as he fished for more compliments, and thought he might have gone too far because he felt her stiffen beside him until he realized that she had instead stiffened because they had impending company.
“Debden! It’s good to see you!”
Leo resisted the urge to groan aloud and pasted on a smile as he reluctantly held out his hand. “Corston.” Lord but he loathed this man! “I would stand but…” He tapped his leg as an excuse, even though he could easily stand on it if he chose to.
“Yes—I heard you’d had an accident.” Then the old letch ogled Miss Kendall. “But it least it gives you a decent excuse to sit out the dancing, eh? Who is this attractive filly?” Because surely every woman must be thrilled to be compared to a horse.
“My social secretary.” Leo left it at that. Because sometimes the only way to get rid of someone that you didn’t want to talk to was to leave an awkward silence dangling.
Corston’s smarmy chuckle filled it, and it was as grating as the man. “Then I shall leave you and…” The letch swept his eyes the full length of Miss Kendall. “Your delicious social secretary to it.”
They watched him walk away. Leo was on the cusp of apologizing for Corston’s inappropriate innuendo when she leaned closer. “Would it be impertinent to ask why you dislike Lord Corston so?”
“Who says that I dislike him?”
“Your face. Your tone.” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “That snarl.”
He scrunched his face to banish it. “I shall only tell you if you solemnly promise to keep it to yourself.” He slanted her a glance and she nodded in mock seriousness, holding up one palm as if swearing an oath.
“My dislike is twofold. Firstly, as a magistrate, he is part of the local hang ’em and flog ’em brigade that still believes that ruling by fear is the best way to tackle the soaring problem our towns and cities now have with crime.
And secondly…” Leo shrugged, somehow knowing that he could trust her with his honesty.
“I find his character utterly objectionable. He’s a lazy, entitled, self-absorbed, philandering, hedonistic, and odious snake whose principles jar completely with pretty much all of mine. ”
“That is a damning assessment of the man indeed.”
“And what is your assessment of him, Miss Kendall? Because…” He twisted slightly to watch her reaction. “You must have an opinion of the man if you grew up on his doorstep. The village of Newton St. Loe where your mother lives is but a stone’s throw from Corston Park, is it not?”
She offered him a begrudging smile. “I might have one or two, your grace.”
He wanted to ask her to call him Leo—but that probably was as improper as Corston’s vile ogling when she was his employee.
His EMPLOYEE!
Something he struggled with when she leaned closer.
“Sadly, my assessment of Lord Corston is just as damning as yours. He isn’t liked by those who are unfortunate enough to have to work for him.
Or those who have to rent from him. Or even those who only have to coexist close to him.
I am not the least bit surprised that he is as dire a magistrate as he is a person. ”
Leo could not argue with that. “He is a dire magistrate. The direst in fact. I pity whichever poor soul comes up in front of him. Fortunately, he is not a very diligent magistrate, so we are spared his particular brand of justice for the majority of the sessions.”
“The local hang ’em and flog ’em brigade are not substantial here then?”
“There are twelve of us serving Bath and its environs and only four of us are disparagingly called liberals. Five more hover somewhere in between, although which way they will go often depends entirely on the wind. Which leaves the permanently outraged three who believe fervently in throwing the full weight of the book at whoever is in the dock. It makes my job all the more…” Leo sighed because this was a topic too depressing for this suddenly lovely evening.
“Important?”
“I was actually going to say tiresome, but I suppose you are right too. Not that it stops me from ruing the day that I agreed to take my father’s seat on the bench any less.
Being a magistrate is a thankless task. One I would happily wash my hands of if I could find some other upstanding fool misguided enough to take the awful job on. ”
“Hmm.” Her dark brows furrowed as she stared straight ahead, and he realized that she wasn’t impressed with that answer.
“Remember that you can always be forthright with me, Miss Kendall, so do feel free to say all that you are clearly holding back. What is it about what I just said that you take issue with?”
“Your own oblivious sense of entitlement, your grace.” A response that surprised him because he had never thought of himself as entitled.
“You see your role as a magistrate as a chore—and while I do not doubt that it often is—you seem unaware of the phenomenal privilege that it is too. You have a say in what happens.” She punctuated that with a point.
“Frankly, a disproportionate say too when you, as someone who owns more than forty shillings’ worth of land, are one of the rare few who are considered worthy enough to get the vote as well.
Only three percent of the population are privileged enough to put a member of Parliament in the house to represent them. ”
“That is quite a specific number, Miss Kendall.”
“It is quite a specific privilege, your grace. But as peer of the realm, you do not only get the vote and a seat on the magistrates’ bench, but you also get a coveted seat in the House of Lords as well, which is where we all know the true power resides.
So you technically have thrice the say of any less blue-blooded member of that select three percent.
You, your grace, are one of the significantly less than one percent of this country’s population who hold all the cards.
You are a unicorn. The needle in the haystack.
The pig that flies. Oh how I wish I had just a fraction of your power!
” She finished her sermon with a good-natured glare.
“But I daresay pigs will actually have to learn to fly before any of that three percent of entitled wealthy men ever consider giving women the vote—even if they are lucky enough to own forty shillings’ worth of land. ”
“Well that well-argued lecture has put me firmly in my place.”
“Good,” she said with a smile. “Then my work here is done.” Then as an aside, she added, “You did instruct me to always be completely honest with you when you knew that I was prickly. But I am also curious—who else here do you loathe as much as Lord Corston?”