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“Wonderful. Then it is settled. He may meet with Pomona and the duke after they return.” Lady Theodosia set her teacup down. “Dear me. Look at the time! Pomona and I have a late appointment at the dressmaker.”

West had spent the afternoon reviewing the estate’s books. Of course, there was no one here to explain to him the dry notations in ledger books that were over a decade out of date. Still, he could begin to form a mental picture from the lines of spindly script: So many bushels of wheat from this field, so many bushels of wheat from that field… so many cords of wood, so many bales of wool and pounds of butter sold, so much spent on a new plough…

In the library and study, joiners and glaziers were at work replacing windows and removing panels and cabinets damaged by dry rot and woodworm. The books that were salvageable were being crated for storage while the work was going on, and he’d had most of the contents of the study carried upstairs to the billiard room.

He found the volume that he’d been searching for and sat down at the work table that he’d dragged closer to the fire. Thuds reverberated through the house. Carpenters and roofers were in the attics and on the roof, repairing leaks. Furious hammering came from downstairs. With any luck, the place would at least be watertight by the time he brought Pomona home.

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the billiard room door. A footman entered. “A gentleman is here to see you, your grace.”

“Oh?” West took the calling card from the tray. Sir Anthony Childs, Bt., M.P., K.C., read the single line engraved on the thick cream card. “Thank you. Show him in to… “ He looked around. “Well, here will have to do, I suppose.”

This was odd. Sir Anthony was known to have had a role in some of the Home Office’s more clandestine operations during the war. In fact, West remembered a rumor that he was some sort of spymaster. Whether this was true or not, he’d been a far more important figure than a junior secretary to the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

A moment later Sir Anthony walked in and made a bow. “I apologize if I have surprised you, your grace. It appears that I have called at an inconvenient time.”

The hammering began again and quickly grew so loud that it was impossible to talk over it, forcing them to stand in awkward silence until the noise died down. Sir Anthony, a square-jawed, middle-aged man whose eyes had a sharp glint behind his spectacles, glanced at the displaced furniture. “I heard that you had found this house in a state of disrepair, but had I known”—

The hammering began again, giving West time to reflect on the fact that in London, one's private business did not stay private long. When the noise stopped, Sir Anthony cleared his throat. “Perhaps it is best if I get straight to the point. As I recall, before you left England, you took an interest in government reform.”

What? A prickle of alarm went up West’s scalp. “Any interest I took in policy was theoretical. A holdover of my idealistic youth at Cambridge.”

“But you are a duke now, your grace. You sit in the House of Lords. I wonder—did your years away change your political views?”

Was he being questioned? “My political views, sir, are my own.”

“Ah!” Sir Anthony’s eyes brightened, as though he enjoyed some verbal sparring. “Let me speak more plainly, then. I assume that news of the unrest in the north reached you in Paris?”

“I read the English newspapers when I could,” he stalled.

“Then you know that the country is at a critical juncture. Prices have risen and wages have fallen. Hundreds of thousands of people in our new industrial cities have no representation in Parliament.”

This was not at all what West had expected. “You sound like a reformer yourself, sir.”

"Your grace, I" —The deafening hammering began again. They stood in silence for several awkward minutes. When it stopped, Sir Anthony folded his arms. "I believe that our best chance at preventing revolution is to introduce reforms. So in that sense, I am a reformer. I do not want an American or French revolution on British soil. Peace and order are the way to prosperity. I have formed a committee with the intent of drafting a bill. I am come to ask if you would be interested in joining us.”

For a moment, West was too surprised to answer. “Which reforms do you contemplate?”

“Repeal of the Corn Laws. Labor reforms. Such other measures as may be necessary to quell unrest.”

In the space of a few days, he'd gained not only love, but also purpose. “I should be delighted, sir.”

“Excellent.” Sir Anthony brought his hands together. “Perhaps I should mention that Lord Ashley—who you will meet—feels strongly that children under the age of ten must be banned from working underground in coal mines.”

“I see.”

Sir Anthony raised his eyebrows. “The Castle March estate includes two coal mines. Children work in them.”

He owned coal mines? “As I am sure you know, I inherited this title rather unexpectedly. I shall put a stop to that practice immediately.”

“Such a reform on one of the greatest estates in England is bound to draw attention.”

“Well, whether it does or does not, it is my land now. I make the rules.”

“Indeed, your grace." Sir Anthony’s expression was now hard to read. “There are those who see such reforms as attacks upon their own interests. And you know the old adage: In politics, friends come and go, but enemies accumulate.”

“Yes. I have noticed.”

“Cecil Townley—to be specific—is likely to view this as a public rebuke of his position that we must not make any concessions to what he deems to be radical ideas.”