Page 23 of A Waltz on the Wild Side (The Wild Wynchesters #6)

“Here’s a fact,” said Mr. Olivebury. “The Duke of Faircliffe came to visit me yesterday, as you apparently well know. Although neither of us are the official heads of our respective houses, I am generally regarded as the leading voice in the House of Commons in the same way that Faircliffe is the leading voice of the House of Lords. If I were to agitate against my own best wishes, others would follow.”

Jacob leaned forward. “What does the blackmailer want you to influence?”

“Voting reform.” Mr. Olivebury’s face was grim.

“My personal strife pales compared to the unconscionable tragedy that felled so many peaceful protesters in Manchester. Unfortunately, in both houses, most members of Parliament prefer the status quo. No one enjoys giving up power, no matter how unequal it may be.”

“Yet you would do so, willingly?” Vivian guessed.

She looked thrilled at the possibility that her latest play might soon cease to be fiction. Jacob didn’t blame her. The idea was seductive.

“I have argued in favor of the common people for years,” Mr. Olivebury confirmed. “Equal suffrage rights are the least we can provide, to ensure the voices of the citizens we represent are actually heard.”

“Which narrows the list of suspects to… everyone else in Parliament?” Vivian said dryly.

“Fifty percent,” Graham corrected. “If the thief believed the measure would be defeated in a landslide, he would not resort to robbery and blackmail. Acts pass by majority, which means even one vote over half is enough to tip the scales.”

“Just think,” Vivian breathed. “All men and women, voting!”

Jacob exchanged a grin with her.

Mr. Olivebury had the grace to look embarrassed. “All men, as a first step.”

Jacob could feel Vivian’s disappointment rising like smoke from an extinguished fire. He wished he could squeeze her hand and swear things would change soon, but he could make no such promise. “Even that much shan’t be easy to pass, I imagine.”

Mr. Olivebury nodded. “Should I manage to convince the House of Commons, the House of Lords could still stop it cold. Most aristocrats would rather keep untitled landowners like me in our places, rather than open the floor to even more commoners.”

Philippa nodded. “The Marquess of Leisterdale has been especially vocal in his opposition to suffrage of any sort. He and my father have never seen eye to eye.”

Graham consulted his notes. “Leisterdale is far from alone. I could name at least a hundred other lords who share his sentiments.”

“But would disgruntled noblemen actually slink through the night with shepherd’s pie and a whooper swan, and burgle the most important voice in the House of Commons?” Jacob asked doubtfully.

“Someone did,” said Mr. Olivebury.

“Probably not the Marquess of Leisterdale, though,” admitted Graham. “He’s sixty-five years old.”

Mr. Olivebury raised his brows. “I’m sixty-three and hardly decrepit.”

“Neither is Leisterdale,” Philippa said. “Though he does limp from gout. Perhaps I’m biased against him. After years of watching him obstruct my father, I can vouch that Leisterdale is not a good man. What about his heir? The son he’s been out carousing with?”

“Lord Uppington?” Graham consulted his journal, then shook his head.

“The timing makes it unlikely. Our thief was writing his anonymous letters a full month before the papers reported Uppington’s arrival back home.

More importantly, that’s only a courtesy title.

Uppington is not a member of Parliament.

The blackmailer sounds like someone with the ability to claim ‘privilege of peers’ to escape being judged by a jury of commoners. ”

Vivian said bitterly, “How lucky we are to have a Parliament full of thieves and blackmailers ‘protecting’ our rights by silencing us.”

Jacob wished he could fix it for her. For all of them. “What else did the thief say?”

Mr. Olivebury rubbed his side whiskers. “I’m instructed to convince my followers to reject any measure of voting reform, or suffer the consequences.”

“Have you followed instructions so far?” asked Philippa.

“Not yet,” Mr. Olivebury admitted. “My scheduled speech is next week. If it goes forward as planned, I will have to make my arguments publicly. As to what I will possibly say…”

“We’ll unmask the villain before that happens,” Jacob promised him. “We won’t let him get away with attempting to take the law into his own hands.”

“Rich, coming from you,” Vivian murmured.

He shot her a pointed look. “You object to my stance on this issue?”

“I point out the hypocrisy of your stance,” she clarified, uncowed. “This mystery thief is a villain because they’ve broken the laws in a way you dislike, so in retaliation, your plan is to… break the laws in a way that you do like?”

Jacob glared at her.

She gazed back, unblinking.

“Um,” said Mr. Olivebury. “Could you lot wait to turn over a moral new leaf until after you’ve extricated me from the blackmail situation?”

“We would love to,” Graham assured him. “The first step—”

“—is to steal back what’s been stolen,” blurted Mr. Olivebury. “ Please . Before anyone else sees it.”

Vivian tilted forward. “Is it really a treasure map?”

Mr. Olivebury stared at her. “A what? No. They took a portrait.”

“A… portrait,” Philippa repeated. “Might I ask of whom?”

“My mistress,” Mr. Olivebury hedged.

“That’s the ‘in,’” said Vivian with excitement. “You bring her flowers or jewelry or chocolates on Wednesdays and Saturdays.”

Mr. Olivebury gaped at her. “How could you possibly know—”

“Not ‘in,’” Vivian corrected herself. “‘ I.N. ’”

It was possible Jacob found her brains even more alluring than her beauty.

“Lots of men have mistresses,” Philippa said with skepticism. “Is yours even a secret? Practically the entire male segment of the ton keeps one, according to my mother. Is owning a portrait of yours really such a scandal?”

“She might not be alone in the portrait,” Mr. Olivebury mumbled. “I might also be in it. Without any clothing. Performing acts that would destroy me socially and eradicate any remaining influence I have in Parliament.”

“Good Lord.” Vivian groaned. “You kept something like that on your wall?”

“We don’t judge our clients,” Jacob said firmly. “We simply retrieve what’s been stolen.”

“Please hurry,” begged Mr. Olivebury. “My marriage and the fate of England hang in the balance.”