Page 43 of A Secret Scottish Christmas

“The verra one,” said Angus. “Admired in these parts. A man o’ quality who speaks fer the puir.”

Robbie and Nash exchanged a look. Ailie, sitting between them, wondered what was behind it. Why would they find George Kinloch of interest?

“I am happy for Kinloch to have escaped the authorities,” she said, speaking her mind. “The man only wants what’s fair for the people of Scotland. How is that sedition?”

Nash turned his wine glass in his hand, staring at the red liquid. “Perhaps it was not him but the worrisome crowd that came to hear him.”

“It might not have been sedition in November when he gave the speech,” Robbie interjected, “but, since then, the government has adopted a series of acts, one of which requires a magistrate’s permission to convene any public meeting of more than fifty people if they are discussing matters of state.”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Muriel. “Why the men’s clubs of London would have to close their doors. Most nights, that is all they talk about.”

Emily turned to look at her friend. “How might you know what men discuss at their clubs, dear Muriel?”

Muriel’s back went rigid, her nose lifting. “Many a night the Earl of Claremont would return all riled up about some argument a gaggle of men got into at White’s. The subject was always politics.”

“Doubtless, ’tis not the nobility the government is worried about,” offered Nash.

Her grandfather ruefully shook his head. “’Tis a sad day when a man canna gather his friends tae speak o’ what’s important tae him. If ’tis reform the Dundee laird seeks, ah’m sorry tae say he will nae be gettin’ his wish any time soon.”

The meal having concluded, the ladies retired to the parlor for tea, while Robbie and the six other men lingered around the table drinking brandy and port and smoking cigars. In the case of Angus Ramsay, a pipe.

With a glass of fine cognac in hand, Robbie listened to the conversation between Will and Angus on the political climate in Scotland, hoping to hear more about Kinloch.

“The problem,” explained William, “is too much power in the hands of too few. For Aberdeen, Arbroath and three other boroughs, there is only one representative in Parliament. For all of Scotland there are only fifteen.”

“Manchester has none,” mumbled Nash.

“That is a travesty,” put in Martin. “The massacre there reminded me of what happened in Derbyshire.”

Robbie shared a look with Nash. William’s words had echoed what they had heard in the taverns in Manchester. They had never told Nick and Martin of their spying for Sidmouth but their parents knew.

“Weel,” put in Angus, leaning back to send a puff of smoke into the air, “at least we hiv Joseph Hume in Parliament.”

“I have heard my father speak of him,” said Hugh. “Elected last year?”

“Aye,” said William. “After a long absence. Like as not you’ve also heard he’s a radical, as all those who seek reform are labeled these days.”

Angus pulled his pipe from his mouth. “Hume comes from guid stock. I knew his fathir, maister o’ a fine fishin’ boat in Montrose.”

“Montrose?” asked Nick.

“Halfway between Arbroath and Stonehaven to the north,” said William.

Robbie wanted to ask about Kinloch and he was certain Nash had the same urge, but it might give away too much for either one of them to mention the man. The thought occurred that no man here knew more about Kinloch’s whereabouts at the moment than he and Nash.

Muriel set down her teacup and inclined her head to better consider Aileen Stephen sitting beside her on the parlor sofa. She intended to take up her conversation with the girl, interrupted earlier with the entrance of her grandfather. London could provide many opportunities for a young woman like Aileen. If she did not make a match with one of the Powell twins, Muriel was confident a future husband awaited the girl in London, perhaps even a man possessed of a good title.

Aileen appeared to be anxious as she asked, “Did it go well at dinner?”

“Whatever do you mean, Child?”

“My grandfather. He is very dear to me, you understand, but I worried he might say something… well, something that might disturb you, something inappropriate.”

“Nonsense!” Muriel inwardly smiled, remembering Angus Ramsay’s words to her. “Actually, I found him rather charming. The genuine article. As you may have noticed, I appreciate directness and honesty.”

Aileen pressed her palm to her chest. “I am so relieved. It was my hope you and he would get along.” Moving in closer, she smiled. “I believe he likes you.”

Muriel thought of Angus Ramsay’s intense blue eyes and the lines around them that suggested, at least at one time, he had laughed much. “I think he misses his wife. How long has she been gone?”