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Simon’s gaze flicked toward Lord Dunmore to see what the Irish politician’s reaction was to the subject of the Penal Laws. The baronet shifted in his seat and lowered his eyes, his jaw tight.
The duke made a soft sound of interest. “Perhaps that is how it began, Mr. Wood. Though our Catholic neighbors have nothing to fear from us now, practicing their religion in the open as they wish, there are still many ways our fellow countrymen look down upon their faith.”
“Reform comes too slow for many in Ireland,” Lord Dunmore said, tone even and quiet. “My family is Protestant, or I would not hold my seat in the House. But many of my closest friends and farther-flung kin are, and will forever be, of the Catholic faith and traditions.”
A heaviness settled over the table, and Simon wished he had Andrew’s knack for saying the exact right thing to lighten the mood. But even Andrew’s humor seemed blocked by the topic. The duke released a deep sigh.
“We will set things to right, Dunmore. Public opinion stands behind the Catholics more and more. There are calls for reform.”
There were also calls in the streets for blood from those who took part in the protests and the massive crowds of working class; they demanded change to tax laws, to their representation in the government. And not enough men in power were like the duke, working for the good of the people under his care.
Luca, a practicing Catholic, had this far remained silent. As an ambassador from the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, he often walked the delicate boundary between political views. His king was technically a Hapsburg, and a Protestant. Luca had married Emma Arlen, the duke’s ward, in an Anglican ceremony, likely disappointing many people from his homeland.
When Luca spoke on this subject, he did so with the barest of smiles. “When good men are in power, the government works for its people. Regardless of their religion, education, or class.”
“Then let us hope more good men enter both the House of Commons and the House of Lords in future,” Simon said, lifting his glass.
Andrew did the same. “I can drink to that.”
“I can, too.” The baron lifted his cup. All the men raised a glass to a better future for England.
After the cups lowered again, the duke rose from his chair. He left his pipe on the same silver plate on which the footman had brought it to him. “We should join the ladies. Their gentler sensibilities will go a long way toward putting our hearts and minds at ease.”
Once in the saloon his mother favored after dinner, Simon found his favorite chair near the windows. The saloon’s green-papered walls and rich, gold accents, familiar in their beauty and comfort, eased what was left of the tension from the after-dinner conversation.
The furniture in this long room was gathered about in small clusters. A table with four chairs, another with six, awaited anyone who wished to play games. Chaise lounges were across from couches. A writing desk stood along one wall. A large fire burned in the hearth with mirrors above and across from it to reflect the candlelight from wall sconces and the chandelier hanging above.
The rug on the floor was enormous, in the same pinks and greens his mother favored. Bowls of white roses from the hothouse were scattered upon tables, making the room smell sweet and fresh.
Simon turned to the chair nearest his, a comment rising to his lips that Andrew would appreciate—but Andrew hadn’t followed Simon to the far end of the room and the darkness of the windows. He had stopped at the chair of his wife, Simon’s sister, to whisper in her ear while she grinned.
No one had followed Simon.
Luca, like Andrew, stood next to his wife. As though even their brief parting had been too much for him. The duke had taken up his chair next to the duchess and held her hand in his, fully attentive to whatever it was she said to him. And the rector sat on the couch between Simon’s grandmother and Lady Dunmore.
The Earl of Farleigh was alone in a corner.
Marriage had certainly changed things for his friends. While he didn’t begrudge them their happiness, Simon hated feeling left out and alone. His position as his father’s heir already left him without many true friends. Too many wanted Simon’s ear for their own gain or popularity. He never quite knew who to trust when Andrew wasn’t there.
He had been fooled a time or two by men who acted one way in his presence and another the moment he left the room.
Simon sighed and tilted his head back against the chair, turning his eyes upward. In the dim candlelight, the murals on the ceiling weren’t easily visible. But he knew them all quite by heart. They were all domestic scenes of women and children, frolicking in meadows, leaping across streams. Idyllic. Peaceful. Completely unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
A lilting voice broke through his thoughts. “Have you grown tired of company already, my lord?”
Simon opened his eyes and shot to his feet, as one must when a lady approached. But Miss Frost had already settled in the chair next to his, leaving him to tower awkwardly above her while she fussed with the blue and green shawl around her shoulders. He retook his seat, looking to the chair where she’d been when he entered the room.
“No, Miss Frost,” he said, recalling her question. “It would be a sorry thing if I tired of a month-long house party on the third day of the occasion.”
“My thoughts precisely. Of course, a month of having guests in your home cannot be wholly comfortable, either.” She smiled at him, somewhat sympathetically, he thought.
“A castle this size makes it easier. We need not be on top of one another every moment.”
“True enough. Your sister tells me there are even secret passages for traveling from one side of the castle to the other, without being seen.”
Josephine ought to know better than to speak of such things to an outsider. Simon shrugged, as though the subject mattered little. “I suppose they are useful to servants in that way.”
Miss Frost raised her eyebrows at him, but her smile stayed in place. It seemed she was in a pleasant mood this evening. Perhaps not having him as a dinner companion had helped. “Sir Andrew told me at dinner that the two of you practically grew up together.”
