A Wicked Conceit by Anna Huber (e novels to read TXT) 📕

in the House of Commons so that they better represented the population. In the current scheme, some boroughs were made up of upward of twelve thousand electors, while others—the so-called pocket boroughs—consisted of as few as twelve. These pocket boroughs were often controlled by high-status patrons, usually noblemen. And some patrons had as many as a dozen of these boroughs in their pockets.

“Then, I imagine you’d like to help ensure its passage.”

“Of course. But not if it comes with more strings attached.”

I nodded, understanding his position. “Though, of course, there’s nothing they could do once you’ve been given your title. I mean, it’s not as if they can take your peerage away once it’s been granted. Not unless you commit treason.” Which Gage would never do. “So they can hardly stop you from voting as you wish. And they shouldn’t fault you, not so long as you help the Reform Bill to pass.”

He didn’t reply, his gaze remaining trained on the steps before us as we climbed. What thoughts were running through his head, I couldn’t tell. Perhaps I’d shocked him with my suggestion, but the truth had to be acknowledged. If he agreed to the scheme, he accepted no obligation except to the passage of the Reform Bill, and he could make that clear to Philip if he chose. Anything more would slowly eat away at Gage, and I couldn’t bear to see that. But maybe that wasn’t all that troubled him.

“Or do you hesitate for another reason? Perhaps you don’t wish to take on the obligations of a title and a seat in the House of Lords. At least, not so soon.”

Eventually, Gage would inherit his father’s barony, but as Lord Gage was still hale and hearty, I did not anticipate that being imminent.

His gaze shifted to meet mine, and I could tell I had hit upon something.

“I don’t wish to pressure you to do anything, Gage. You must know that. But you are an intelligent and charismatic man.” Two traits he’d inherited from his father, who unfortunately was much more of a Tory than a reform-minded Whig. “You could do some good in Parliament, and there is a great deal of important legislation being debated as of late.”

“Philip tells me another attempt at an Anatomy Reform Act will be put up for a vote this summer if not sooner,” he replied.

A bill which had long had implications for me, as it would alter the archaic and inadequate system for supplying corpses to medical schools and anatomists, making the unclaimed bodies from workhouses available for dissection rather than simply the small number of condemned convicts executed each year. A solution which was not perfect, as it seemed to criminalize the act of being poor, but was better than the current situation which necessitated the trade of body snatchers and gave impetus to resourceful criminals. Men like Burke and Hare, and the London Burkers, who had found a way to avoid the hard, dangerous work of digging up freshly buried bodies by instead murdering people off the street and selling them to the anatomy schools.

“I know you don’t care about having a title. In our line of work, they can often bring as much trouble as benefit. And neither do I. Well, I suppose that’s not strictly true,” I conceded as we paused outside our bedchamber door. “It would be nice to have society stop calling me Lady Darby by courtesy.” Our closest friends and family knew how much I loathed the reminder of my first husband. I much preferred Mrs. Gage, even if it was several rungs down on the social ladder.

I reached up to gently grasp the lapels of his black evening coat, compelling his pale blue gaze to meet mine. “The point I’m trying to make is that I believe you are more than worthy. And so did your grandfather.”

Gage’s relationship with his maternal grandfather, Lord Tavistock, had been nothing short of tumultuous, but in the end they had made their peace with each other. Lord Tavistock had even admitted to writing to the king, urging him to grant Gage a title on his own merits. We had expected nothing to come of the matter, particularly as Gage’s father was a great friend of William IV and unlikely to agree with such a suggestion. He preferred to keep his son and heir under his thumb as much as possible, and having him granted a title separate from his own would blunt much of that power. But this scheme of Earl Grey’s added another dimension to the matter. Lord Gage was shrewd and calculating, and there was no doubt he would prefer to have his son granted a title rather than someone over whom he might have no sway.

Gage’s expression tightened with remembered grief at the recent passing of his grandfather, and I lifted a hand to cradle his warm cheek.

“The decision is yours. I will support you in whatever you decide.”

He pulled my hand from his face and placed a gentle kiss on my palm. “As of now it’s merely a threat. The king may very well balk at the suggestion. And even if he doesn’t, if the Tories catch wind of the scheme they may sooner relent than have the House of Lords flooded with Whigs.”

“I know, but it speaks highly of you all the same that they asked Philip to approach you,” I reminded him as I stepped back, reaching for the bedchamber door. “Though I’m certainly not surprised,” I added, tossing a flirtatious smile over my shoulder.

The corners of his mouth lifted in an answering grin and then he turned his feet toward the door to the adjoining bedchamber where Anderley would be waiting to help him with his evening attire. I found Bree waiting for me as well, my night rail already laid out across the counterpane covering our four-poster bed.

“Good evening, Bree,” I proclaimed with a weary sigh. “Will you help me out of this dress first?” I requested, turning my