The Discreet Charm of Lady Mary (A Howertys Novella)

Chapter 15: Worship (part 1)

John slipped into the library he had visited with Mary the other day. So much had changed since then. The woman he had found so vexing had turned out to be exactly what he had always wanted. What he needed. Someone to challenge him. Mary was everything he could ever want, and he had been a fool not to see it earlier.

His antagonism towards her had been grounded in his attraction, something he had not wanted to acknowledge when he fancied himself with Olivia. Now that he'd accepted his feelings for Mary, he saw what his feelings for Olivia truly were. Naive worship of an ideal he had imagined for himself. In reality, Olivia never would have been able to live up to it. No one could. And that would have been unfair to everyone involved.

But Mary was everything he could ever want. She was real. His feelings for her were strong and true. He saw her for who she was. Not an ideal, but a real woman with actual strengths and flaws. Not to be put on a pedestal and worshipped from afar, but kept by his side as an equal. Or in his arms. His skin heated at the memory of her coming apart beneath his touch. That had been glorious.

It was mortifying to remember how he had finished too early when they finally made love. Lovemaking was new to him, and he had been too far gone by the time they got there, too excited by the sight of her, the feel of her. He vowed to do better next time. There were so many things he wanted to do and never had, and he wanted to do them with Mary.

He just had to convince her to marry him.

The door opening interrupted his thoughts, and Dash came inside. The other man was still wearing the same clothes as he had last night, and his dark hair was an unruly mess as if someone had run their hand through it one too many times. Or too many people had run their hands through it. Their lives could not be more different. While Dash seemed to revel in bedding as many women as possible, John couldn't imagine anything worse. He wanted no one other than Mary, more than content to be with only one woman for the rest of his life.

With a yawn, Dash walked over to a cabinet and found himself a brandy snifter and a bottle. Pouring himself a drink, he took a sip before looking at John. "Morning."

"It's noon."

Dash shrugged. "It's morning for me."

"Yes, I can see that you come straight from bed. Couldn't even be bothered changing clothes?"

"It wasn't my bed," Dash said with a grin.

"Good night?" John asked politely, even as he doubted he truly wanted to know. Whatever depravities Hayes and his guests got up to during the private gatherings wasn't something he cared about.

"Yes," Dash said as he put the glass and bottle down. "I rather think so."

John made a wry face. Leaning his hips against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you find anything out?"

"Ah yes. I didn't see Lady Jane, but I found this." Dash fished something out from a pocket and handed it over.

Taking the letter, John opened it and scanned its contents. He pressed his lips together. This was why the War Office had asked him to investigate. Hayes was in contact—and supporting—the men up north who demanded voting rights for all men, not only wealthy landowners. The government was concerned about the amount of support the movement was gaining and had been keeping tabs on them for some time now.

"Thank you." He put the letter in his own pocket so he could decide what to do with it. Technically, he must tell the War Office, but the truth was that he wasn't really against the idea of the right to vote for all. He could see the validity of the arguments made. Why should every decision be made by so few, and by people so far removed from the average worker? It didn't seem like the worst thing if more people could vote.