To Tempt a Scandalous Lord by Liana De la Rosa

Chapter Four

“Am I being too…harsh?”

Effia Assan—close confidant and sharp-eyed editor—made a sound Alicia would describe as noncommittal, but didn’t push to confirm this. She would speak her mind soon enough. She always did.

From the time she met Effia at a salon hosted by a women’s charitable organization, Alicia had come to depend upon her clever wit and bluntness. The group had met at least once a week to discuss the issues pertaining to the welfare of children, an issue they both held dear. Yet only Effia had been vocal about possible solutions, gaining Alicia’s admiration.

When Alicia had inadvertently revealed she penned political rants to amuse herself, Effia had asked to read one. Alicia had brought her an essay she’d written about the failure of Parliament to pass a Jewish emancipation bill. Effia had laughed heartily over her stinging critique, and revealed she worked for a publisher interested in placing the writings of women in periodicals and opinion chapbooks. All anonymous, of course. And she thought Alicia’s essays would be of particular interest.

Thrilled at the chance to share her thoughts about the workings of Parliament with a larger audience, Alicia readily accepted Effia’s offer, and they had been working together to fine-tune her critiques ever since.

Which was why Alicia slowly counted every excruciating minute until Effia lowered the pages and speared her with a midnight-dark gaze.

“No, you’re not being harsh, but I do believe you like the marquess and are uncomfortable criticizing him.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like there’s a lot to criticize.” Alicia bit her tongue to keep from saying more.

Such a pronouncement did not go unnoticed, though.

“Come now, Alicia,” Effia said, clicking her tongue. “I’m surprised you would be influenced by a handsome face.”

Alicia plucked at her skirts. “You think the marquess is handsome?”

“I have a pulse.” Effia snorted. “I find his proper, stoic, gentlemanly ways appealing, and if the broadsheets are to be believed, so does half the ton. Tell me, does he have a charming brogue?”

She shouldn’t encourage the woman, but Alicia couldn’t help but say, “It’s like butter on a warm scone.”

Effia chuckled. “I think your criticisms of Lord Inverray are fair, especially when weighed against your praise. Yet even in your writing, it’s apparent that lately you are hesitant to criticize him or his voting record.”

That would not do. Alicia might respect the marquess, and possibly even like him, but she still had a job to do. If she ignored how much she had come to look forward to Lord Inverray’s serious voice but laughing gray eyes, or the manner in which he always considered her so intently, as if he cared about every word that came from her mouth, Alicia could readily admit his campaign had several weak spots.

He was obviously a kind man, concerned about the well-being of the working poor and children, but he didn’t make such things clear with his voting record or his campaign platform. The Whigs had just won control over Parliament, and now was the time to tap a leader to usher through the changes they began with the Reform Act. Yet Inverray seemed to be offering more of the same style of politics that prevented the country from moving forward into a new, exciting era.

Or so she had thought until he revealed a bit of his methodology at Rockhaven House.

Taking the pages from Effia’s hand, she considered her words.

She complimented the marquess’s strong support for the abolishment of slavery throughout the empire, but did not once mention his committee’s failure to present a child labor bill to Commons. And although she wrote about his public support for the failed measure for Jewish emancipation, she had not touched on his lack of movement toward another emancipation bill for not only Jewish citizens, but for other religious minorities, as well.

Now that she was better acquainted with Inverray, Alicia knew he had legitimate reasons for these lapses, but then she wasn’t supposed to be aware of his maneuvering. And it was her responsibility as a political critic to point out flaws, not excuses.

“If Inverray is tapped as Prime Minister, his government could improve lives or make them harder for citizens all over the empire. How you feel about his handsome face is not nearly as important as how you feel about his politics,” Effia said, her words hitting their mark as always.

“Perhaps I was soft on him,” Alicia murmured, her gaze skimming over the words.

“Perhaps? I’d say you definitely were.”

Rolling her eyes, Alicia conceded the point. “Whatever would I do without you to hold my feet to the fire?”

“You’d be bored.” Effia raised a cup of coffee to her mouth. “Did you want to rework it?”

Alicia sighed. “I do. I can have Jane deliver the revised essay to you when it’s ready.”

Effia shook her head. “I’ll come to you. I have another meeting this afternoon, and I can stop by afterwards.”

“Very well, I appreciate it.” Alicia’s shoulders dropped as she thought about the revisions that lay ahead. “Hopefully I’ll get it right this time.”

Effia’s smile was gentle. “It’s not about getting it right or wrong. It’s about sharpening your argument for the most profound impact. And I know you can do it because you’ve done it every other time before.”

After seeing her friend out, Alicia sat with her old words and new blank pages ready to tackle revisions. Several hours, biscuits, and cups of tea later, a knock sounded on her chamber door. It opened at her word, and Jane, her maid, stepped into the room.

“Miss Assan is here. Are you ready?”

Rolling a kink out of her neck, Alicia nodded. “I think I may have done as much as I can, and now Effia will have to work her magic on it.”

Entering the front parlor a few minutes later, she found Effia perched in an armchair like a plucky sparrow, her eyes rapidly scanning a cluster of pages she held in her hand, a pencil clenched in her teeth. At Alicia’s entrance, she looked up and raised her brows, stashing the papers in the large bag at her side.

Alicia followed the movement, curious of what she was reading. Despite their friendship, Effia had never revealed the identities of the other authors she worked with, and while Alicia respected her discretion, she was still vastly curious.

Clearing her throat, she took a seat in the matching armchair. “You have excellent timing.”

“Of course I do.” Effia flashed her an impish smile. “Did you make any progress?”

“See for yourself,” she said, handing her the carefully revised pages.

The butler brought in a tray while Effia read, and Alicia kept her nerves at bay by preparing the tea. She took a bracing sip from her cup, and as the warm liquid spread through her body, she considered her friend.

Effia had once shared that as an editor, she was doing what she loved, changing the world an essay at a time. Her journey hadn’t been easy: traveling with her family on a treacherous voyage from Ghana to England, settling in Lambeth, and then securing the best education they could afford. But it had all been worth it, and now she worked for a successful publisher who gave women the opportunity to express themselves.

Alicia fully trusted her critique. If Effia said she was coddling Lord Inverray, she believed her.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t get anxious about hearing her editor’s opinion.

Alicia set down her cup, and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “So what are your thoughts?”

Effia looked up from the papers. “Your criticisms are pointed, but fair. His lordship is a grown man and can handle fair, constructive commentary. If not, he shouldn’t be in politics.”

“Indeed not, but then a man’s ego can be so very delicate.”

“As fragile as an eggshell, I’d venture.”

Locking eyes, the women shared a collective chuckle.

“Aside from some minor grammatical changes, the essay appears ready to print. Would you like for me to submit it for our next printing?” Effia asked, lifting her now tepid tea to her mouth for a sip.

Alicia bit her lip for a moment. “I think…I’d like to hold on to it for a bit longer.”

“Ahh.”

Her ears immediately perked up at Effia’s innocent tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Her friend reached for a biscuit, not meeting Alicia’s eyes. “Why does it have to mean anything?”

“Come now, you know full well there is a whole message conveyed in that one sound.” Alicia paused, crinkling her forehead. “Or is that a word?”

Her friend sent her a withering look.

“What did you intend to say? Just say it.”

Effia canted her head to the side. “You are attending the Talbot ball tomorrow, are you not?”

“I am, but I fail to see—”

Alicia swallowed the rest of the words because she did, in fact, grasp the point Effia was hinting at.

The Marquess of Inverray would be present at the ball. He had already secured her supper waltz, a request that had left her annoyingly breathless.

Patting her mouth with a napkin, Alicia attempted to gather her thoughts. “Do you think I’m withholding this new editorial because I will see Lord Inverray at the ball? Do you think I will somehow fall prey to his charms and thus revise the arguments I have written?”

“Yes,” Effia said baldly. “And I think if he or others complained about what you’ve written, you will feel guilty, so you’re trying to avoid such a conflict.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Alicia growled, launching herself to her feet. She prowled to the window and then stopped, pivoting sharply to face her friend again. “I feel too deeply about these points to allow the marquess’s charm to silence my voice.”

Effia leaned back in her chair and took another bite of her biscuit.

Smoothing her hand along the ribbon encircling her waist, Alicia inhaled. “Inverray is waiting for bipartisan support to submit a child labor bill for a vote.”

Effia snorted. “He’ll never get it.”

“A fact I believe he’s aware of”—she knotted her hands at her waist—“which is why I recommended he use these horrid chapbooks, as he calls them, to garner public support.”

“H-how?” Effia coughed and set her biscuit down. “How do you see that playing out?”

Alicia spent the next several minutes explaining her idea for how her essays could push the Marquess of Inverray’s child labor reform aspirations onto the floor of Commons, and then nervously awaited her friend’s reaction.

“It’s a good idea. I’ve never considered using our articles to enforce direct change, but…” Effia’s mien turned calculating. “It could work. But it’s going to take some maneuvering to keep you from falling under suspicion.”

“I know. Which is why I think this essay needs to be just as assessing as my past ones.” Alicia chuckled. “The chapbook writer is not supposed to know of his intentions, after all.”

“Indeed not.” Effia clapped her hands together. “This is a most encouraging turn of events. If we can use the Marquess of Inverray to advance our cause, however unwittingly, it would be reason to celebrate.”

The possibilities made Alicia’s heart feel three times its size.

“I’m proud of you, my friend.” Effia reached out to pat her arm. “This is an incredibly clever idea, and if you manage to execute it successfully, not only will it benefit the children we seek to serve, it will aid Lord Inverray as well.”

Alicia clasped her hands in her lap and smiled, touched into silence by Effia’s praise.

“After the dinner party at the Firthwells’, I’m determined to get this right.” She picked at her fingernail. “The knowledge that people are actually reading my essays, and not just as bits of entertainment, is invigorating.”

“Oh, you know there are those who read them merely to be entertained. Some readers enjoy your skewering of the candidates, even if you don’t do it maliciously. But you also call attention to topics they would normally ignore. If they want to be entertained, they cannot ignore your words. And all it takes is for a handful of hearts and minds to be softened, to demand reform, for Parliament to heed the will of the people.”

Alicia snorted. “You make it all sound so simple.”

“Do I?” The corners of Effia’s mouth tipped up. “We both know change is not easy, but you’re trying to encourage it nonetheless. You’re very brave, my lady.”

“No more than you.” She cocked her head. “And I consider myself more persistent.”

“Definitely persistent. But also brave.”

Effia’s sudden silence caught Alicia’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

She released a long breath. “Have you considered what would happen if you were discovered to be the author of these tracts? If the marquess were to determine your motivations? You’d almost certainly be ruined.”

Alicia’s mouth went dry. “I’m well aware of what I risk. We’ve already discussed it at length.”

“I know. I know.” Effia shook her head. “But as your essays are read by more and more people, the chances of your identity being revealed increase.”

“Well, then I need your help more than ever to ensure my message is forthright and clear, so if I am ever discovered, my ruination heralds great good.”

Her friend considered her with intense black eyes. “It’s easy to imagine ruination, but I’d wager it’s much harder to live it. Have a care, Alicia, especially where your feelings for Inverray are concerned.”

A surge of bile touched the back of her throat, and Alicia forced it back down with the rest of her fears. Effia was right, of course.

In her quest for social change, Alicia gambled with so much more than just her reputation. She needed to make sure that every essay she wrote was worth it, because then what was the point of gambling so much?

Straightening her spine, she looked to her friend. “Take the essay. It’s ready.”

Effia nodded. “Very good.”