Page 56 of The Baron Takes a Wife

“And made it illegal in 1807. Abolished slavery completely in 1833.”

“But the illegal trade went on much longer, and certainly Britain has purchased cotton. There are some mills here that are refusing to process cotton purchased from slave owners. If the mill workers can take such a stand, surely the government can as well.”

It had reached a point where everyone had ceased conversation and was watching the two of them spar. While politics and foreign affairs were typically forbidden topics for ladies of the ton, Lord Gaius had always encouraged anyone at his table toward open dialogue and opinions, including his daughter, and his table had always felt like a respite from the stuffy nothingness of ton discourse. Irene and Lord Gaius were watching Miss Sprague with pride while Sophie and Henry looked vaguely bored and distracted. But David had eyes only for his wife, who looked engrossed with their rapid rapport when Michael suddenly changed the subject.

“What does Sir Trevathan think of this matter?”

Miss Sprague looked up, seemingly unprepared for this swift change in the conversation. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Are you not betrothed to him?”

Miss Sprague’s gaze darted to her father, then back to Michael, whose expression was, as ever, unreadable. “That is no business of yours, my lord.” She glanced around the table as if in hope of reprieve.

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but David knew he had to do something. The conversation had moved from politics into the personal and Miss Sprague did not deserve to have her private affairs dissected at the dinner table. After all, she had saved him moments earlier.

“Lord Gaius, I should like to try that new port you were speaking of,” David said loudly, giving Michael a sharp look. “We have no imports from Portugal, though we’ve been thinking of expanding, haven’t we, Aunt Sophie?”

“I make it a habit not to discuss business amongst the aristocracy. They say it’s crass.” Sophie raised an eyebrow at David and crossed her arms, seeming unaware of what he was trying to do.

“Have you ever had safir, Aunt Sophie?” Elena, ever the savior, had seen that the conversation needed to be rescued. Elena had not spoken much at dinner. Thinking back, David realized that when he had seen her in a large group, she was often very quiet. But her soft voice had a strength and sweetness, so much so that he saw even Michael was paying attention.

“No, I can’t say I’ve heard of it before.” Sophie’s posture relaxed ever so slightly.

“I do not know enough about spirits to compare it to anything else, though I am becoming more familiar with fortified wine.” Elena gave David a conspiratorial glance and went on. “But it is very sweet, much sweeter than sherry. It tastes like honey and oranges. I have only had it a few times in my life when my father had a bottle. Many in the empire are haram, so it can be hard to find.” She looked around at several confused faces. “They do not imbibe spirits as part of their faith,” she explained.

Sophie had softened her gaze, but she had not moved or uncrossed her arms. “We’ll have to look into importing it, won’t we, Nephew?”

“Lady Grayston, I hope I have the good fortune to try some one day, I have not had the privilege to travel to that region of the world yet in my lifetime.” Lord Gaius rose and bowed toward Elena as he politely closed the subject. “Gentleman, I think that is our cue to move on from the ladies for our port.” As they adjourned, Lennix leaned over and drawled under his breath.

“Always an entertaining lot, aren’t we, Grayston?”

****

Later that evening, Elena and David sat with Henry as he regaled them with tales of his exploits with his friends in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a group of artists Elena had never heard of before. Irene, Annie, and Sophie sat around the piano while Michael and Lord Gaius were deep in conversation across the room, though Elena saw Michael look over at the piano ever so often. Henry glanced over at Michael and frowned.

“What was that about at dinner?”

“Damned if I know,” David muttered. “Sorry, my love.”

Elena shook her head, she did not much mind if he cursed. “You truly do not know?” she asked. Both men looked at her with such clueless expressions that she wanted to laugh. “Is he not one of your oldest friends?”

“Spare us the reprimand and let us know, Lady Grayston, I am on tenterhooks.” Henry Lennix’s relaxed repose was the very opposite of on tenterhooks, but she obliged him with a nod. She crooked her finger for them to look at the scene from her perspective.

“He”—she pointed toward Michael—“is enamored with her.” She signaled for them to look at Annie, sitting with Irene over at the piano. “And he is furious about it.”

“No,” Henry scoffed. “He is always trying to rile her up.”

“Have you never been put out because a young woman you were interested in did not pay attention to you?”

Henry began to speak, then looked to think the better of it. He glanced at David beseechingly. David shrugged. “I just never imagined Michael having particularly romantic feelings. He’s so logical.”

“Hence why he is furious about it.” Elena was secretly pleased that she was getting rather good at reading these things.

“He’s not a romantic hero like you, Grayston. Just because he doesn’t act doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel.” Even though he was still sitting back in his chair, Henry Lennix looked tense.

“Well, I have good reason to be romantic.” David gave Elena that same smoldering look he had given her earlier, and the world fell away, and it was just the two of them. After a polite cough from Henry, David appeared to realize there were other people around, for he turned to his friend. “And what of you, Lennix?” The other man suddenly seemed preoccupied with his glass.

“We are not speaking of that dangerous subject. I know many women who I will never give my heart to.” Elena saw David narrow his eyes at his friend and was about to speak when Lennix continued. “Poor devil. Michael, that is. She won’t have him.”