Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] by Strangers Kiss

the Square from here, and God knows Mayfair is safe enough if you do not announce my title to everyone on the street.”
    “Yes, Your …” Coachman’s voice trailed off. “I’ll send one of the grooms to bring help”—the big man paused—“sir.”
    In less than ten minutes Meryon sat on the sofa in his study with Magda opposite. “The boy reminded me of Joshua Kepless, and I wonder again if I should propose my bill even if it is doomed from the start.”
    Magda watched, her head bent to the side as though considering every word. Now that Rowena was gone Meryon understood her love for animals, especially spaniels who were loyal, agreeable, and never talked back. Magda was the perfect companion when thoughts would not stay inside his head.
    “The hungry have always been there. But I see them now because of Joshua Kepless, because he was the sole support of his mother and sister. But Magda, the poor are everywhere. This, of course, makes me wonder if I made the right decision in my vote on the Corn Laws.”
    Magda jumped down and climbed up next to him. Meryon smoothed her brow, oblivious to the hair the dog shed on his coat.
    The Corn Laws had been his first truly important vote since taking the Meryon seat in the House of Lords, after his father’s death. He had argued, debated, and even prayed. The home economy would have suffered without the tax on foreign imports.
    “When I see a boy hungry or hear of a family struggling I wonder if free trade would have been a better choice.” Free trade would have kept the prices down at least.
    Meryon could count on one hand the number of times he’d questioned a decision after the vote. His father had insisted that once a decision was made, one must move on.
    Until Kepless’s murder Meryon had done that. But seeing the poverty the boy’s family had endured and their bitterness over his death had made Meryon as uncomfortable as a girl at a cockfight. Money had eased his conscience, but not the sense of responsibility for all the others who streamed past on the streets.
    With a final scratch of Magda’s ears, Meryon stood up, walked to his desk, and looked through the items that the courier had brought from Pennford that day.
    A letter from his brother, David, insisting that a decision be made on the investment possibilities that David had outlined. Ricardo’s
Principles of Political Economy
, which David suggested would help clarify his thoughts. Meryon decided he would start it tonight. The book would either put him to sleep or keep him awake.
    Was now the time to propose his bill to support the widows and orphans who had lost their breadwinners? Or should he invest more directly in promising manufacturing as his brother wanted him to do? Or both? There were those damn questions again. When in doubt act, he reminded himself. Action often clarified the issues more than any book ever could.
    And by God’s grace, London insisted on action. The streets and buildings lived and breathed on the decisions people made, good, bad, and indifferent. Indecision was like a muddy road, slowing all progress.
    At least the war against Bendas moved forward. Now he had to decide what to do about Parliament, whether the children should stay here or be sent back to Pennford, and where to find a new mistress, which brought him back to the one unknown who intrigued him the most: Signora Elena Verano.
    Signora Verano had managed to compel him—that was the only way to describe it—to talk about marriage, about Rowena.
    Learn and move on
. Nothing would remedy the mistakesmade this evening, talking so freely, answering questions so openly.
    Kissing a stranger.
    London was filled with intrigue, both personal and political, and Meryon was not entirely sure that the meeting had been innocent.
    The uncertainty made him uncomfortable, but no amount of action could bring a plot to life before its time. If someone thought to use Signora Verano to influence or discredit the Duke of Meryon, he