Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] by Strangers Kiss Page A

would know soon enough. Then take action.

6

    M ERYON COULD HAVE put Elena Verano out of his mind the next day if the other members of the House of Lords had not found they must discuss every detail of her beauty and her history over and over as they gathered for the Tuesday session.
    “The woman is amazing!”
    “Incomparable.”
    “Today’s calendar, gentleman.” Despite the exasperation in Meryon’s voice, they all ignored him.
    “Where will the Signora sing next?”
    “How long has she been a widow?”
    Meryon opened his mouth to tell them that they sounded like a bunch of old biddies when the next question made him listen instead.
    “Why in the world is she spending so much time with Viscount Bendasbrook?”
    Meryon looked up, counting this as another one of those taps on the shoulder by either angel or devil.
    “They left together last night.”
    “The little runt doesn’t stand a chance with her.”
    “He rides like a champion.”
    “Oh, really? And whose authority do you have that on, my lord? Your wife’s?”
    The conversation deteriorated into an exchange of ribald insults that Meryon ignored as he considered the information.
    Leaving together could have a simple explanation. Signora Verano did not own a carriage. She did not want to go about alone at night. She was flirting with the viscount. They were lovers.
    That last made no sense. Signora Verano would not need a shoulder to cry on if she and Lord William were intimate.
    Unless Lord William did not wish to hear of her dead husband.
    Then another thought struck him that made all too much sense.
Unless Lord William
, grandson of the Duke of Bendas,
had asked her to establish a connection with the Duke of Meryon
.
    The bell sounded, calling them to the session. Meryon did his best to listen.
    The lively debate on the indemnity bill amused him as much as it informed, as Meryon watched Liverpool’s cronies jockey for favor, more eager to impress the prime minister than to sway the members.
    He kept track of the observers as well. Their reactions gave a decent insight into what the papers would say.
    Lord William’s presence in the gallery interested Meryon the most. How surprising that someone as restless as the viscount could sit still for so long.
    With the break called, Meryon decided he’d had enough. No third reading of the bill would happen today, much less a vote on anything more important than whose hair needed a trim.
    He could use the time to better advantage at home. Besides the information on the new manufacturing ventures, Meryon knew he had to read through a report from his brother on the early plantings.
    His secretary could tell him if he had made any progress on his study of Bendas and his family. Meryon most wanted to know if there was any truth to the story that Bendas had disinherited a daughter before she reached her majority.
    As Meryon mulled over what he would do with such information, someone called to him. Meryon recognized Theodore Henderson, who held a Derbyshire seat in Commons.
    Henderson fell into step beside him.
    “Your Grace?”
    “Speak your mind, Henderson.” The man always asked for permission to speak as if Meryon had given him the seat in Commons as a gift for which Henderson should be forever grateful.
    Meryon had told Henderson more than once that the seat was his for very practical reasons. The man had an amazing memory and his powers of observation were excellent.
    “Before the session today a group of Tories expressed their complete disagreement with my suggestion that we need to protect the interests of widows and orphans.”
    “Go on. I want to hear the good and the bad on this issue.”
    “They insisted that we cannot afford the expense. That workhouses and debtors’ prisons are enough burden and if we support the orphans then they will grow lazy.”
    “Excellent.” Meryon stopped and gave Henderson his full attention. The man looked shocked.
    “But, Your Grace, they are arguing
against
the