“Who’s against it?” She turned round on the padded seat and looked at him earnestly.
“Sir Donald Parsons,” he replied. “I would like to know why.”
She was surprised. “Doesn’t he say?”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled and gave a slight shrug. “He will quote so many reasons that it makes me wonder which of them is the real one, or if any of them are. It might be something we haven’t even thought of.”
She understood immediately why that was an obstacle. She had been in society quite long enough to know that in order to do battle with anyone and have a chance of winning, you had to know what they really wanted, not simply what they said they wanted.
“I see. What can I do to help?”
In some situations she was the best ally he had, and lately he had had the grace to acknowledge it.
“I would like to know what Parsons really wants, but I would also like to understand Godfrey Duncannon a lot better,” he answered. “Not that I hesitate on the contract, which is more like a trade treaty for a vast amount of money, just a lot easier to negotiate. I have looked into that for myself.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m less trusting than I used to be.” He was referring to past errors that had cost him dearly.
She did not say anything. It was a delicate subject. He was referring to the occasions when he had served with more loyalty than judgment. Pitt had had to resolve violent and bitter issues too close to treason for anyone to escape easily, even if they were as innocent as Jack had been. No one had put it into words, least of all Emily, but his ambition to succeed without any help from Emily’s connections or her money had been a considerable part of his problem.
“The contract is good,” he said again. “But I am relying heavily on Duncannon to negotiate it. He has known the other parties for a long time and they will deal only with him. They trust him completely. I will be interested to know why. I’ve looked, and I can’t find anything powerful enough to explain it.”
She frowned. “Isn’t his past record enough? He’s been a brilliant success in business himself, and without the slightest shadow on his name.”
“I’ve thought that before,” Jack said quietly.
She rose to stand in front of him. She ran her fingers over his lapel, although it was already perfectly smooth. “He’s not a politician, you know. You don’t have to be quite so wary.”
“Yes I do,” he replied. “This could be worth millions of pounds altogether, the livelihood of thousands of people. And I can’t afford another error, however little I’m really to blame.” In spite of his attempt to be optimistic there was an urgency in his voice. “My name will be connected with it. People will know that. They won’t bother to ask in what way. I can hear them perfectly. ‘Oh, really? Wasn’t he connected with that contract with China? Better not have him. Not sound, you know? Choose someone else.’?”
Emily could see the dark shadow in his eyes. He was speaking lightly, even smiling, but he was passionately serious underneath. She knew him well enough to be certain he was also afraid.
“I will do all I can to help, I promise.” She thought of Charlotte, and Thomas, and Samuel Tellman, but she did not mention them. Jack had enough to worry about already.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The party was held in a magnificent home just off Park Lane. They were helped by the footman to alight at the portico of the front door. Liveried footmen seemed to be everywhere. The night was cold but dry, and lamps gleamed like so many fairy moons, reflecting off the horse brasses of the carriage that drew up behind them. As the woman inside alighted, the diamonds in her tiara blazed briefly, and the pale satin of her skirts gleamed.
Jack and Emily went up the steps and through the wide, carved front door. Once inside, the rustle of taffeta was louder than the murmur of polite voices and now and then the raised tones of the butler announcing this or that important person’s arrival.
Emily had once been “Lady Ashworth.” She was quite happy now to be “Mrs. Jack Radley,” especially when his name was followed by “member of Parliament.”
They stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs, and then went down the two or three steps into the already considerable throng. They had timed it perfectly: early enough to be polite, late enough to be interesting.
Two of the first people Emily was introduced to were Sir Donald Parsons and his wife. Emily was glad Jack had mentioned them prior to the party. Parsons was an impressive man, not above average height but with a sweep of black hair and enormous eyebrows that lent a fierceness to his aspect that his features did not quite support.
Lady Parsons looked somewhat in awe of him, but Emily thought she saw a hint of amusement, which interested her far more, in the pale blue eyes.
“How do you do, Lady Parsons?” she said with a sweet smile when they were introduced. She could be just as docile as anyone, if she judged it politic. “How nice to meet you,” she added. “I have heard so many delightful things about you.”
Lady Parsons looked momentarily confused, as did her husband. She was the first to recover. The two women looked at each other, and knew exactly where the power lay.
“People are very kind,” Lady Parsons murmured, and the amusement was back in her eyes-just a momentary light, gone as quickly as it appeared.
There was no answer to such an observation, and Emily knew it. It was something to be noted for later. Never underestimate such a woman, or imagine for a moment that she did not notice everything.
Parsons made some harmless remark, and Jack responded. Emily kept her smile, appearing to listen intently, until they were joined by their host.
The men moved away, deep in discussion of international trade and finance.
Lady Parsons looked at Emily, her face still impartially polite.
“Do you know anyone here?” she inquired. “May I introduce you to people you may care to meet?” It was a delicate way of suggesting that Emily was a stranger in society, perhaps in need of assistance.
Emily could feel the prickle of anger already. How dare this woman suggest Emily was a nobody? She increased the sweetness of her smile. “How kind of you,” she said innocently. “I am sure there are many”-she hesitated delicately-“ladies more familiar with the diplomatic scene than I and with whom you have been friends for decades. I should be most grateful for your generosity.”
Lady Parsons’s smile widened, then suddenly froze as she recognized the implication of her considerable seniority. She was perhaps ten or twelve years older than Emily, not the twenty Emily suggested.
Emily continued to smile expectantly.
Lady Parsons did not flinch. “We are on opposite sides in the affair of this contract,” she said quite calmly. “But I think I shall like you. You are a great deal deeper than you look, and quicker, I think?” The amusement was back in her eyes, now quite openly. It was an offer of friendship with a barb inside.
“It doesn’t do to appear too clever,” Emily replied. “People keep up their guard.”
“I am tempted to say that you are in no danger,” Lady Parsons said sharply, “but I think that is unnecessary. It rather betrays a need to win, don’t you think? Those who must always have the last word become rather tedious.”
“I agree,” Emily said. “To be tedious is the ultimate flaw in a woman’s character.”
Lady Parsons laughed quite openly. “Oh, my dear! Did Oscar Wilde say that?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Emily replied, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “I have discerned it for myself in endless political parties.”
“A pity you are too wellborn for the stage,” Lady Parsons observed. “You might do well.”
“I could never remember other people’s lines,” Emily replied.
“Come. I shall introduce you to some of the people I know.” Lady Parsons had a very gentle but insistent hand on Emily’s arm. “I shall enjoy the experience of seeing what they make of you.”