Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [155]
“Of course,” he said slowly. “The art is to make the work look like a hobby, an interest undertaken for its own sake, and the skill like an art, something a gentleman might do to fill his time.”
“Oh quite,” Anstiss agreed with a smile that touched only his lips; his eyes did not flicker. “But we have enough dilettante politicians already. We need men who are committed.”
The last trace of lightness disappeared from Fitz’s eyes. He knew he could no longer evade making an irretrievable statement, a date he would have to abide by, regardless of either his own emotions or Odelia’s.
Anstiss was waiting.
Emily opened her mouth to prompt Fitz, then changed her mind, realizing she would intrude in something too serious for such comment to be anything but misplaced.
“I—” Fitz began, then stopped, his face pale. He turned himself to meet Odelia’s gaze. It was a long, painful look, his face puckered in a mixture of apology and shame.
No one else moved, but Anstiss’s brows darkened and the skin across his cheekbones became tighter.
Fitz drew in his breath slowly. The ghost of a smile returned to his lips, but it was bravado. There was no joy in it.
“I value my career, such as it is, and I wish to serve politics wholeheartedly, if I am given the opportunity, but I do not intend to allow it to dictate my personal arrangements, or those of my family. I shall marry when it best suits all those who are concerned.” He met Anstiss’s eyes squarely, although there was still regret and courtesy in his voice. “I hope that does not sound less than civil. It is not meant to.”
There was no answering warmth in Anstiss. His brows drew together, his lips narrowed.
Emily looked at Fitz, then at Odelia. A slow wave of emotion spread up her face, compassion, anxiety, and suddenly Charlotte knew it was not unmixed with guilt. So much hung in the balance, the inflections of Fitz’s words, whether he had the courage or the depth of feeling to cast away all that he was so close to winning, Anstiss’s reaction, Odelia’s—and on all of it depended Jack’s future as well.
Emily avoided Charlotte’s eyes and stepped forward, taking Odelia’s arm.
“Come, let us leave them to talk politics. Tell me of your own thoughts—would you care to do the Grand Tour? I did, you know, and there is much that is fascinating, and I would not have missed, but my goodness it can be uncomfortable at times. I found I am not cut out for physical adventure. Do you know, in Africa I saw—” And the grisly account of what she saw was lost as the two of them drifted away, leaving Fitz alone with Anstiss and Charlotte.
“Very tactful,” Anstiss said dryly without glancing at Emily’s back, although his meaning was quite apparent. “A woman of considerable poise—most necessary for a man who has any hope of surviving in politics.” There was no compromise in his eyes, hard, bleak light gray. “I take it from your reluctance that you have reservations about marrying Miss Morden? Surely you are not still thinking of that wretched Hilliard girl? Very pretty, but not remotely possible as a wife.”
A flash of anger sparked in Fitz’s face.
Anstiss ignored it. He had no need to tread warily. He held the patronage and he knew it.
“Whatever her morality, Fitzherbert—and it is open to question, even at the most charitable interpretation—her reputation is ruined.”
“I beg to differ,” Fitz said with freezing civility. “There has been a little whispering, largely by the idle and ill informed.”
“By society,” Anstiss snapped. “And whatever your opinion of them, or of their intelligence, you would do well to remember it is they who will put you in Parliament—or keep you out!”
A pink flush spread up Fitz’s cheeks, but he was stubborn in his convictions.
“I do not wish to owe my success to those who would grant it to me at the same time as they tear down the reputation of a young woman about whom they know nothing.”
“My dear