As one of the younger ladies attending, she took up a position standing beside the fireplace. Other ladies also remained standing, leaving the chairs to those who needed them. Therese fell to chatting with two ladies of similar age to herself, who were also still finding their feet at social events of political bent. But other than accompanying their politically established husbands, neither lady had much understanding of politics and policies herself.
Therese found that disappointing and rather odd. She couldn’t imagine not learning the details of Devlin’s position on every subject that came up; how could she effectively assist him if she didn’t know and understand his views?
Eventually, she parted from those ladies and crossed to where old Lady Morpeth sat; Therese had known her ladyship virtually since birth.
After inquiring as to Therese’s parents and family, Lady Morpeth patted Therese’s hand. “You are doing very well, my dear. Keep it up!”
Although unclear on exactly what behavior her ladyship sought to encourage, Therese smiled and promised to persevere and moved on. She was drifting around the edge of the gathering when, to her surprise, Lady Kilgardie and Lady Finchley planted themselves in her path.
Both were widows, but had been highly regarded political hostesses in their day. Therese halted and courteously greeted the pair.
Lady Kilgardie nodded approvingly, but her gaze remained sharp. “My dear countess, I wished to mention how heartening it is to see you so actively engaged with political matters.”
“Alongside your husband,” Lady Finchley put in.
“Indeed.” Lady Kilgardie continued, “The government—indeed, the country—needs new blood and fresh ideas and people with energy to carry policies forward.”
“To ensure that the right policies are put into practice such that our nation prospers,” Lady Finchley clarified.
Unsure what—if anything—was being asked of her, Therese nevertheless inclined her head. “I’m sure Devlin will endeavor to support the most helpful policies, and as his wife, I will, of course, stand by his side.”
Apparently, that was the right thing to say; both ladies beamed.
“Excellent, my dear!” Lady Kilgardie tapped her cane on the floor for emphasis. “Be certain we will watch your progress with interest.”
Lady Finchley patted Therese’s arm, much as Lady Morpeth had. “Never forget, dear, that all gentlemen of a political stripe require the assistance of a devoted lady, especially to help them perceive the wider view.”
“Jolly good.” Lady Kilgardie pointed with her cane. “Come along, Emma. We’ve yet to speak with your goddaughter.”
With nods to Therese, the pair continued around the room. Somewhat bemused, she watched them proceed to buttonhole one of the younger matrons with whom she’d previously spoken.
Then a stir about the door drew her attention, and she watched with a certain relief as the gentlemen ambled in to rejoin the ladies.
She spotted Devlin and smiled.
As if informed by some sixth sense, on crossing the threshold, Devlin found his gaze drawn to his wife. He took in the warmth of her smile and, responding to that beacon of welcome, corrected his course and strolled to her side.
She immediately looped her arm in his and, leaning closer, confided, “Several of the older hostesses have gone out of their way to encourage me.” She sent a laughing look his way. “I’m going to take that as a minor triumph.”
He smiled back. “You should. You know as well as I that they don’t bestow approval all that readily.”
The glow in her face delighted him. Then she glanced around the room. “Who’s next?” She located Lansdowne. “The marquess?”
Devlin considered the older statesman. “I suspect we should.”
Together, they approached Lansdowne, and as Devlin had suspected, the government leader in the Lords wished to sound him out regarding his likely voting intentions.
To that end, Lansdowne excused the three of them from the others with whom he’d been conversing and, with Devlin and Therese, stepped back from the crowd, giving them a modicum of privacy.
Discussions of this sort were what dinners at houses such as the Fortescues’ were intended to facilitate.
“Now then, Devlin.” Lansdowne’s gaze went past him to Therese, and his lordship inclined his head. “Countess.” Without further ado, the marquess launched into an outline of several upcoming bills and the amendments already proposed for each.
Devlin paid attention. The planned bills embodied changes that were more than superficial to the mechanisms behind the movement of capital and, as such, would likely have an impact on their family’s wealth and that of most of the upper classes and would ultimately affect the prosperity of those dependent on the Alverton estates and all similar landholdings.
While Devlin listened carefully, he was reassured by the knowledge that anything he might miss or forget, the lady beside him was sure to remember. Honed by the exercise of correctly remembering all the far-flung twigs on the family trees of the noble houses that made up the haut ton, Therese’s memory was, in his opinion, second to none.
When Lansdowne completed his exposition, Devlin put several questions. He was amused when Therese, not intimidated by Lansdowne but being careful to pander to the older man’s expectations, rather than pose her own questions, couched them as thoughts and musings, which nevertheless drew the required information from the marquess.
