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P eter had already secured a table in the corner of the chophouse. They ordered joints of meat, and the waiter brought them a round of ale.

“Cheers,” Peter said, raising his glass. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Hear, hear,” Henry said as they clinked their glasses.

Peter sipped his drink and set it aside. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

“I need a favor. You’ve no doubt heard that I was elected to Parliament.” Harrington paused, waiting for one of his friends to crack the inevitable joke about what a fucking surprise that had been.

Neither of them did. Peter and Henry were both looking at him expectantly.

Clearing his throat, he spread the list of recalcitrant MPs out on the table.

“William Windham has asked me to drum up some votes for a couple of acts. Pensions for disabled veterans, better pay for soldiers, that sort of thing. This is a list of holdouts. I need to know where to find them so I can attempt to bring them around.”

Peter pulled a pair of spectacles out of his pocket, placed them on his nose, and began poring over the list. As Harrington had expected, he was familiar with most of the names.

“Charles Sutton is a member at Boodle’s. He plays brag, but not very well. He’s rumored to be in debt to Lord Fletcher to the tune of seven hundred pounds. Stephen Chichester fences. At Angelo’s, I believe. As for Francis Barrett…”

Harrington flagged down a waiter and asked to borrow a pencil so he could scrawl some notes in the margins.

Peter showed no signs of slowing. “Quentin Carstairs is a member at White’s, as is Colin Rhys-Jones.

You’ll find Julian Deverill hanging around the Drury Lane Theatre.

Rumor has it that he is desperate to make Cressida Beauregard, who is presently doing a turn on stage as Ophelia, his mistress, but Mrs. Beauregard is skeptical of his ability to support her in her preferred style.

Which she absolutely should be—the man hasn’t paid his tailor in almost a year.

Let’s see… you’ll find Anthony Leveson-Gower at?—”

“Tattersall’s!” Henry burst out. He grinned. “I actually knew one.”

Peter kept going for another five minutes. It really was remarkable that he could keep all of that in his head.

Finally, he came to the end of the list. “I don’t know much about David Crawley, but Bertram Newcombe is the particular friend of Lord Pearson and will no doubt be attending the ball he’s hosting on Friday.”

“Brilliant,” Harrington said, writing quickly. He paused. “You didn’t say anything about Walter Davenport or Edmund Elliot.”

Peter had paused to take a sip of his ale. As he set down his glass, a wicked grin stole across his face. “That’s because they both owe me money. Leave those two to me. By the time I get through with them, they’re going to be delighted to support this Pensions to Soldiers Act.”

“Bless you.” Harrington slumped back in his seat as the waiter deposited a joint of beef in front of him. He took up his knife and fork. “Truly, Peter, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Peter said, tucking in to his rack of lamb. “How are you finding life as an MP so far?”

“Not so good.” He told them about his near-miss with Lord Kinwood.

“I’d have made a complete and utter hash of it if not for Lady Diana’s advice.

And now, I’m expected to sway all these men.

” He paused, part of him not wanting to admit to any weaknesses, but then decided, what was the point?

Everyone already knew he was pretty much good for nothing.

“If you want to know the truth, I’m in over my head. ”

Henry had laid down his knife and fork and was listening intently, which Harrington did not entirely appreciate.

“Give yourself a chance. You just need a little time to get your sea legs. You mustn’t expect yourself to know everything on day one, especially as you’ve been out of the bloody country. ”

“I agree,” Peter said. “You’re going to do better than you think.”

“I doubt it,” Harrington muttered, slicing a parsnip.

“Take it from someone whose livelihood hinges on persuading people to buy very expensive things,” Peter said.

“The first step is being likable. And you are extremely likable. There are dozens of MPs who are honorable, diligent, and erudite who couldn’t sell an umbrella in a rainstorm.

What they wouldn’t give to have a tenth of your easy nature. ”

“You make me sound like the beloved family spaniel,” Harrington muttered.

“Don’t discount it,” Peter insisted. “It takes a range of skills to succeed in politics. You already have some of them in spades. The others you will develop with time.”

“I hope you’re right.” Harrington was having a hard time believing it, but he had to admit, Peter was bloody clever. The man spoke nine languages. Nine!

But he was obviously trying to placate him.

Although… so long as he had Peter’s ear, he might as well get his advice. “Diana said something similar. She thought the fact that I’m an officer in the Riflemen might also work as a point in my favor. Apparently, we’re fashionable.”

“She’s absolutely right,” Peter noted. “What else did she say?”

He summarized her advice, about using the carrot where he could and the stick—his biting wit—where he must.

Peter speared a potato. “I have always considered Lady Diana to be one of the most intelligent women of my acquaintance. She has proved it once again. Sound advice, all of it.”

Henry pushed his plate aside. “Speaking of Lady Diana.”

Harrington felt a tingling sensation spread across his cheeks. God, he hoped he wasn’t blushing. “What about her?”

Henry made a not-particularly-successful attempt to look nonchalant. “It sounds like you’ve been spending a fair amount of time in her company.”

Harrington reached for his glass. “Hardly. Her brother ran me off the second he saw me. I’m lucky to have exchanged four words with her.”

He was taking in a mouthful of ale when Peter said, “And what about the rumors that you almost kissed her in broad daylight, in the middle of Hyde Park?”

Harrington barely managed to swallow his drink. He came up coughing, and Henry gave him a couple of thumps on the back.

“I… what ? That’s… that’s ridiculous. It was all Rafe Westbrook’s fault.”

Henry and Peter exchanged a look. “Is that so?” Henry asked.

The words tumbled from his mouth. “He was trying to make Diana get in a rowboat with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he had the temerity to grab her.

But then”—Harrington couldn’t help but laugh, remembering—“she did this thing with her arm.” He punched his fist downward, demonstrating.

“I’ll bet her Aunt Griselda showed it to her.

It had ‘Aunt Griselda’ written all over it.

And she sent the idiot tumbling right into the Serpentine. ”

“Really?” Peter asked.

“Yes, and the point was, when I saw that she was about to get splashed, I did what any gentleman would do. I moved her out of the way and stepped in so I took the brunt of it. It was entirely innocent, I swear.”

Both of his friends looked baldly skeptical. “Well,” Peter drawled, “it certainly sounds as if you’ve been spending hardly any time in her company.”

Henry was even less discreet. “She’s his type.”

“She’s exactly his type,” Peter agreed.

“He’s had a weakness for her ever since she cut Lady Pritchard to shreds at her debut ball,” Henry observed.

Peter opened his mouth to agree, but Harrington cut him off. “Will you two shut it? It’s completely impossible. At the Richford ball, Trevissick wouldn’t even let me dance with her.”

Peter looked at Henry. “Note that he doesn’t deny liking her. Merely that her brother wouldn’t allow it.”

Harrington decided a change of tactics was in order. “You’re the one who said she was one of the most intelligent women of your acquaintance. Why don’t you court her? You’d actually stand a chance in hell.”

Peter paused, wiping an errant drip from the side of his glass. “I actually proposed to Adelaide last week.”

This was not entirely surprising. Peter had been courting Lady Adelaide De Courcy for the past year. Harrington hadn’t realized things were that serious, but of course, he’d been out of the country for the last six months.

Lady Adelaide’s father was the Marquis of Siddington, a highly placed diplomat. Much like Peter, she had grown up abroad, primarily in Vienna and St. Petersburg, and she spoke a half-dozen languages.

“Congratulations,” Henry said, raising a hand to flag down the waiter. “This calls for a toast.”

Peter grabbed Henry’s arm, pulling it down. “Not so fast. She hasn’t given me an answer yet.”

Harrington scowled. “She hasn’t what ?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s an important decision. She asked for some time to consider it.”

Harrington snorted. “If she hasn’t figured out that you’re a fucking prince, it doesn’t say much for her intelligence.”

Henry’s expression was pinched. “I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but I am surprised to hear that you decided to propose. Perhaps I have formed the wrong impression, but I have not observed a great deal of ardor on either side.”

Peter seemed unbothered. “Paradoxically, that is one of the things I like about her. I’m seeking a practical arrangement.

I work long hours. The last thing I need is a wife who would expect me to dote on her day and night.

I need someone sophisticated. Worldly. I need to host a wide array of business associates in my home.

I need a woman capable of planning impressive gatherings, who will not be cowed entertaining some of the most influential men in Europe.

” He gave a philosophical shrug. “Lady Adelaide meets all of my requirements.”

Henry was shaking his head. “Peter. Good God . We’re talking about your wife . You’re going to spend the rest of your life with this woman!”

Peter tilted his head. “Not necessarily. Should the relationship become untenable, I could certainly afford to set her up in her own household.”

Henry groaned. “ No . What is wrong with you? You haven’t even married the woman yet, and you’re already planning for the failure of your marriage!”

Peter still looked unperturbed. “I’m being realistic. How many people do you know who are truly happy in their marriage?”

“I can think of one.” Henry pointed to his chest. “ Me . Do you have any idea how happy I am being married to Caro? I am—” he paused, gesticulating wildly—“ absurdly happy.”

“Honestly, it’s disgusting,” Harrington confided. “I was at their house earlier today, and I was forced to endure the sight of my little sister pinching his arse!” He shuddered at the memory.

“And do you know whose marriages are every bit as disgustingly happy as Caro’s and mine?

” Henry jabbed a finger against the table.

“Every single one of Harrington’s siblings.

Thorpe is so happy being married to Izzie, I worry he might burst from it.

Hell, even Trevissick is happy being married to Ceci.

I didn’t realize he was capable of smiling. ”

Peter spread his hands. “Well, that seems to apply to people who have married into the greater Astley clan. And I have proposed to Adelaide. So, I suppose I will have to adjust my expectations accordingly.” He signaled to the waiter. “Now, if you two are done badgering me, I have work to do.”

“As do I. Thanks to you.” Harrington patted his breast pocket. “I’m going to see how many of these men I can track down this afternoon.”

Henry sighed. “Even I have horses to train.”

Peter snatched the bill and paid the waiter in one smooth motion.

Henry stood. “Thank you for getting lunch. Again . One of these days, you’re going to have to let me treat you.”

Peter rose, reaching for his hat. “Yes, well, for some inexplicable reason, I like you two.”

They parted at the door. As Harrington headed to his first stop, he could feel his beefsteak roiling in his stomach. The time for talking and planning was over. The only thing left to do was to go out there and try his hand at being a politician.

As he headed toward White’s, Harrington could not help but observe that he was every bit as anxious as he’d been two months ago when the French army had been actively shooting at him.