Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [104]
Sheridan stood up. “Edward, you are being crass. What you say or do in your own house is your own affair, but in my house you will be civil to my guests, whether they are friends of yours or not.” He sounded tired, hurt, and weary with an unutterable contempt.
Denoon turned on him, his face purple. “This is too important for aristocratic delicacy, Sheridan. We cannot afford to indulge whims and vanities, or the desire to be seen to do good. Donations are all very fine, and make us all feel better and be publicly admired. But they do not address the problem. They do not stop a single bomb going off or catch one anarchist. We need support in Parliament. We need stronger laws, and men of courage and decision in the places of power where they can do good.”
He glanced at Vespasia as casually as if she had been a servant with a tray in her hands. “I have no desire to offend Lady Vespasia, but this is a serious business. There is no room for amateurs and dabblers. It matters too much. We need Albemarle. For that matter, we need you! For God’s sake, put your oversensitivities aside and join the battle!” Perhaps without realizing it, he moved a step closer to Cordelia, allying himself with her sentiment, unspoken since Vespasia had arrived, but obvious in Cordelia’s face from the beginning.
Sheridan looked back at Denoon, ignoring all three women.
“You are a fool, Edward,” he said sadly. “And a stupid man with as much power as you have is dangerous enough to frighten anyone of wisdom. You seem to have no idea how political negotiations work. A word from Vespasia, and the doors of London will be open to you, or closed. A thoughtless insult, a callous gesture, and all the money you possess will avail you nothing. You need to be liked, Edward, and that is something you cannot force and you cannot buy.”
Denoon’s face was scarlet, but he could find no words to defend himself. As much as anything, he looked startled into silence by the fact that Sheridan had at last retaliated. It was obviously something he had not expected.
Cordelia was thoroughly out of composure. Anger darkened her face, but her first concern was for the cause.
“I apologize for my brother-in-law,” she said to Vespasia. “It is ignorance that prompted him to be so rude. He cares too much about the danger of even worse violence to guard his tongue, which does not excuse him, of course.”
Vespasia considered waiting in silence for Denoon to apologize. It would have had the desired effect. Sheridan would have done so, and forced it to happen. He would have understood, but he might not have admired her for it, justified as it was. More important than even the old affection, she would not have admired herself. It would be vanity, justice for herself. She was more concerned with her own cause, the defeat of the bill—and perhaps also having the kind of inner dignity that was above the need for collecting any debt.
“The need to be successful in this is far greater than our individual feelings,” she said mildly. “We must overcome our differences of manner and do only that which furthers our aim. I believe that a quiet word with Lord Albemarle will bear fruit. His influence is much wider than is generally known. I will be happy to speak with him if you wish, or not, as your judgment dictates.”
Enid looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“Thank you,” Cordelia said with open gratitude.
Sheridan relaxed.
They waited for Denoon to speak.
“Of course,” he agreed grudgingly. “As long as that is not all we do. The bill is down for a second reading this afternoon. The anarchists are still free, and growing more violent with every day. The police have not the power to stop them because we have not given it to them. Before Lord Albemarle can exert whatever influence he has, they may strike again. How many more people will be blasted to oblivion? How many more streets set on fire? The next time the brigades may not be able to extinguish it before