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H arrington tripped over the edge of the rug. In retrospect, it was a good thing Lady Diana had taken his arm, because for a second there, she was the one holding him up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stumbling to a halt. “What was that you said?”

It had sounded as if she had said something about Parliament, but he had obviously misheard. He hadn’t been elected to Parliament.

It was patently obvious that he wasn’t parliamentary material.

She looked up at him, surprise filling her pretty blue eyes. “Had you not heard? You emerged victorious in the special election.”

He suddenly recalled what she was talking about. Their local M.P., a man named Andrew Milner, had recently been convicted of kidnapping. The matter was somewhat personal, as the person he had attempted to kidnap and ship off to New South Wales was Harrington’s sister, Izzie.

The trial had been delayed for an age, but Milner had eventually been found guilty, and now he was the one on a ship bound for Sydney.

The problem, according to Harrington’s father, was that the frontrunner to win Milner’s vacated seat, one Jacob Digsby, was “a man utterly without honor.” Which sounded dramatic but boiled down to a horse race on which his father had lost money.

The Earl of Cheltenham’s reasons for wanting someone else to win that seat may have been trivial.

But, as Harrington’s older brother, Edward, had noted, Digsby’s brother owned a large sugar plantation in Jamaica, and he was staunchly pro-slavery.

There were reasons to hope Digsby lost the election other than whether Battersea had been deliberately held back at Epsom.

But the man his father had proposed to stand against Jacob Digsby wasn’t Harrington .

The mere notion was ridiculous.

“I believe you’re thinking of my brother,” he said.

She raised one eyebrow. It made her look haughty, which Harrington liked. “I assure you, I am not.”

He laughed. “I think I would know if I was running for Parliament.”

She shrugged. “According to the papers, you not only ran, but won.”

His hands were growing clammy inside his gloves. “It was probably a typographical error. They printed Mr. H. Astley instead of Mr. E. Astley .”

“They would have referred to your brother as Lord Fauconbridge, not Mr. Astley.”

Shit . She was right.

“And besides,” she continued, “the article specifically mentioned that you had been elected in absentia , as you were currently deployed to Hanover while serving as a lieutenant in the 95 th Rifles.”

Bloody hell . Now his hands were trembling. “There’s been a mistake. Edward’s the one my father wanted to run for the open seat. He said…”

He trailed off, struggling to remember. The truth was, he’d been extremely hungover when this conversation had taken place. It had been the eve of his deployment to Germany, so his friends, Henry and Peter, had taken him out for a night on the town.

Diana’s blue eyes were piercing. “What, exactly, did your father say?”

Harrington screwed up his face, trying to dredge the memory from the recesses of his brain. “He said we didn’t want Digsby for the seat, on account of him being a wastrel. But he knew someone who could beat him handily—his son, the most popular man in the county.”

He looked at Diana, waiting for her to agree that this meant Edward. She blinked at him once… twice. “Which is you,” she finally said.

“Which is Edward ,” Harrington insisted.

Diana crossed her arms. “I would agree, had your father said the most erudite man in the county, or the most respectable. But he said the most popular , which sounds like the fellow you could have a pint with down at the pub.”

He hated that she had a point. He laughed nervously. “But he couldn’t have possibly meant me . I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Based on her blank expression, Lady Diana did not find it obvious. Which just went to show that she didn’t know him as well as she supposed. “What happened next?”

“Er.” Harrington racked his brain. “Edward said, ‘I think it a splendid idea.’ And then I noticed they were both staring at me, as if they were waiting for me to say something.”

Diana gave him a pointed look. But surely , she wasn’t right. The notion that his father would want him to run for Parliament was absurd.

She prodded him with her elbow. “And what did you say?”

He squinted, trying to recall. “I said it was fine by me. Because the plan—for Edward to stand for Parliament—was a good one.”

Diana rubbed her brow. “What happened after that?”

“My father already had the papers drawn up and ready to go. He had both Edward and me sign them.”

“And what did the papers say?”

“I, uh…” This was the part he hated to admit. “I don’t know. I didn’t read them.”

“Harrington!” Now she was laughing at him, but not in a mean way. “What do you mean, you didn’t read them?”

“I assumed I was signing as Edward’s witness!” He rubbed his eyes with both hands. “Oh, my God . How did this happen? This is awful !”

She waved her arm. “I fail to see what’s so awful about it. I daresay you’ll do a better job than half the idiots currently serving.”

She obviously didn’t know what a lost cause he was, and he certainly wasn’t going to set her straight on that account.

A part of him wanted Diana to think well of him, but the notion of her holding him in high esteem was also terrifying, because it was only a matter of time before he went and screwed things up, now wasn’t it?

He sighed, checking his pocket watch. “I need to go. I promised Lord Kinwood I’d meet him in Lord Richford’s study at half ten. But if you’ve any dances free, I’d?—”

Diana seized his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip for a young lady who appeared so slight and delicate. “Lord Kinwood asked you to meet with him? Why?”

Harrington shrugged. “He wanted to speak to me about something or the other. Why do you ask?”

She cast a look toward the door as if to confirm that they were still alone, then dropped her voice low. “He’s going to try to trick you into supporting his canal scheme. The one at Babbinswood.”

Harrington gave a nervous chuckle. He had no idea what she was talking about. “A scheme, you say? I thought canals were good for commerce.”

“They are, but this one is self-serving. Lord Kinwood owns five thousand acres around Babbinswood. There are a number of canals in the area, and more are under construction. Lord Kinwood seeks to connect his farm to this existing network, only he desires for the government to foot the bill.”

Shit . He would have walked straight into that. Harrington rubbed his eyes. This only served to show how grossly unqualified he was to serve in Parliament. “I hadn’t heard a thing about it,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

He chanced a glance at Diana, expecting to find her sporting her signature scornful expression.

Instead, he found her regarding him steadily.

“Of course, you haven’t. You’ve been slightly busy holding off the French.

You had weightier things on your mind than Lord Kinwood’s stupid canal.

Besides, where would you have even found a newspaper? ”

Had she said it with even a trace of pity, he would have wanted to sink into the floor. But she said it so matter-of-factly, he almost believed her.

“Right.” He shook himself. He was already five minutes late to meet Lord Kinwood. He needed to pull himself together. “What do I do?”

She leaned in close so he felt the whisper of her breath against his ear.

“Ask him to name one stakeholder other than himself who would benefit from the proposed scheme. He’s been throwing around some numbers, claiming the project would only cost six thousand pounds.

That is based on a projected cost of two thousand pounds per mile of finished canal.

Which is absurd.” Her eyes blazed ice blue.

“If he tries to argue with you, point out that the Royal Military Canal, which is nineteen miles long, cost a total of 234,000 pounds. Which puts the cost per mile at?—”

“Closer to twelve thousand pounds,” he interjected, then quickly wished he’d kept his mouth shut. This was Diana’s cue to make a joke about how she hadn’t realized he was capable of performing arithmetic.

It was true that Harrington had never applied himself in school. His brother, Edward, was the clever one. Everyone knew that.

But he wasn’t the village idiot. He just played the part to perfection.

Instead of laughing, Diana gave a crisp nod.

“Just so. And ask what goods, precisely, this canal would bring to market. That part of the country has a fair number of quarries and mines, and building a canal seems logical for the transport of heavy goods. But it is my understanding that this particular pocket has only farms, such as the one owned by Lord Kinwood.”

Harrington nodded. “Right. No one to benefit other than Lord Kinwood. Twelve-thousand pounds per mile. And no heavy goods. I’ve got it.” His heart was beating faster than it did when he was under fire, and he felt slightly queasy, but there was nothing for it, so he turned to go.

Diana seized the sleeve of his jacket, staying him. He turned and found her looking up at him with an obdurate expression that, strangely, suited her delicate features.

“You can do this,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

He gave a nervous laugh. “I’ll certainly try. But…” He trailed off, figuring that sentence was best left unfinished. If she spent any meaningful time in his company, Lady Diana would notice his many failings soon enough. No need to go pointing them out.

She raised a haughty, expectant eyebrow and gestured for him to continue. It struck Harrington that, had she not been the sister of a duke, she would have made a marvelous headmistress.

He was unable to withstand that eyebrow. “But political negotiations aren’t really my specialty.” There. That didn’t sound too bad.

The eyebrow lowered, only for its companion to go up. Damn . He’d always wanted to be able to do that eyebrow-arching thing but had never mastered the trick of it.

Diana, on the other hand? She could do it with both eyebrows.

“And what is your specialty?” she asked crisply.

“Um, you know…” He trailed off, struggling to think of a term he could utter in front of a lady. “Idle japes and mockery.”

She lifted her chin. “Perfect. Lord Kinwood is an idiot. So, mock him.” In a swift motion, she spun him around and gave him a push toward the door. A shudder went through him at her touch against the small of his back.

He was halfway down the corridor when he heard her call, “And Harrington?”

He turned, regarding her in the candlelight.

“I will be expecting a full report.”

She turned on her heel and strode back toward the ballroom, leaving him standing alone in the shadowy corridor.