“I find those flecks on your skin fascinating. They keep me up at night.”
Mercy stopped breathing. Fascinating? She bit her lower lip. Her entire plan was to have the duke find himself alone with Miss Morgan so that he could be overcome with affection for her, and while it seemed as though that plan had worked, Mercybeing found by the duke had been an unforeseen oversight. Nowshewas the one alone with him and... well, she was not unaffected.
Fascinating. She had never minded her freckles, but she had never been under the delusion that a man would find them fascinating.
Harrington cleared his throat as if the sound would perhaps make her forget the words he’d just said. “And were those Irish phrases part of what your lady’s maid has taught you?”
“Oh no.” Thank the heavens her voice hadn’t come out shaky. “I learned those from Bridget.”
“Ah,” Harrington said, like he’d just found the last piece of a puzzle. “And who is Bridget?”
“Our new scullery maid.”
The duke nodded, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “And are all of your servants Irish?”
“No, Mrs. Brooksby isn’t. Plus a few others who have been working for us for ages. Does that bother you?”
“That you have a few English servants?”
She snorted. “No, that we have so many who are Irish.”
“Lady Mercy, do you think I speak only of helping the Irish without doing what I can to help them in reality? My household workforce is slowly becoming Irish as well. Perhaps between both of our families we can bring Irish workers into fashion, and they won’t have as much trouble finding work.”
“You really think the two of us could hold that kind of sway on Society.”
“I think so. I’m counting on it, actually. I’ve been a duke for over four years now, and yet, in the House of Lords, I’m still seen as a child. No one wants to take advice from a child.”
“I don’t think you should underestimate your own power, even if it is taking time to develop.”
The duke’s lips formed a line, and he nodded, but it lookedas though he’d already moved on from their conversation. The giraffe house was about to come into view. He tried his best to smooth his hair and fix his cravat with one hand.
If she had been the one to disturb them, she might have offered to help him. Instead, she reached for her bonnet and its little prisoner so that he could have use of both his hands.
Before they took six more steps, the Duke of Harrington, with his nearly perfect hair and impeccable clothing, had returned.
Chapter 20
How did one manage courtshipanddebates in a single day? Not very well, it seemed, at least in Nicholas’s case. He’d had Lady Mercy in his arms only a few hours ago. How was he supposed to deal with the inane arguments Lord Rayleigh kept spewing while standing in front of his seat at Parliament?
“The time to take action is now.” Nicholas closed his eyes. “Every day we delay aid, families are suffering.”
“You say the time is now,” Lord Rayleigh countered. “But the time was now two years ago, and for all we know, it will be for the next two years. The Irish won’t solve any of their problems if we are constantly sending them aid. We need to allow them time to make the adjustments needed in production and labor. Those families you speak of will be better off in the long run if they become independent.”
The two of them had been standing for the past ten minutes without any sort of conclusion. Nicholas could see the rest of the lords growing weary of the conversation. The only thing worse than opposing lords were disinterested ones. At least an opposing lord had a mind Nicholas could try to change. Most of them men surrounding him seemed more interested in finishing this conversation and filling their own bellies than filling the bellies of the starving in Ireland.
Nicholas spun completely around, glancing at as many men in the eye as he could manage. Only a few even looked at him, and only Lord Driarwood managed an encouraging smile. The man had to. Nicholas was courting his daughter. This was futile. He wasn’t his father, nor would he ever be. He’d almost kissed Lady Mercy, for heaven’s sake. How could he expect these men to listen to him when he could barely manage to govern himself?
He didn’t bother with a response. He turned and stalked passed the men sitting to his right until he had a clear path out of the chamber. If he wasn’t doing any good, he might as well leave.Let the House of Lords have their dinner. He was done stopping them.
He’d been out of the room for only a few paces when he heard steps behind him. He didn’t turn. If Lord Woodbury wanted to cajole him into returning, this time he wasn’t going to be able to do it.
“Harrington.” The voice behind him was not his old general’s. It was too suave, with a bored drawl that no man who’d purposely followed another down a corridor should have.
Nicholas sighed and turned around. “Lord Bryant, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Lord Bryant smirked, and his crooked smile simply managed to make him look more like an Adonis statue in a garden. Nicholas didn’t have the patience to deal with him now. “I wasn’t about to stay in that stuffy room after you left it. I only go because Diana thinks I can be a good influence somewhere. But, thus far, I haven’t seen an opportunity for it.”
“Perhaps if you’d dallied with fewer daughters of the men in there, you might have more luck.”
