“Well, I didn’t run it into the ground, at least,” Joss admitted with a self-deprecating smile. Then his expression turned sober. “But we’re not discussing me. We’re discussing your duty to this family. Why do you fight it so?”
Geoffrey debated how to answer the man, suspecting that every word he said would be relayed to Mother to be used in further attempts to “influence” him. Yet Joss wore such an earnest expression. Geoffrey regarded him closely. Uncle Joss was a man with no sons, and he a man with no father. Perhaps confiding in Joss might start them on the path of a renewed relationship, which, Geoffrey realized with some surprise, he wanted.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t fight my duty, Uncle. I know what’s expected of me.” He crossed his arms and sat lightly on the ledge of the window. “It’s just that I know how fragile life is…” He swallowed as the faces of friends snuffed out on countless battlefields assailed him. “And I understand the value of it. I intend to make the most of my life, both as an earl and as a man.”
Even as he spoke the words, emptiness yawned inside him like an endless black gullet, yet nothing seemed to fill the gorge. He knew he had to embrace his future if he were ever to make a difference, to learn to be at peace despite all he’d seen and knew of life’s injustices—friends lost in ugly, senseless death, and his men returning home to poverty and suffering while he returned to this privileged world where he no longer fit. Where he was all alone.
Joss’ black brows formed a V. “Your mother is only trying to—”
“The countess will have to cede to my wishes on this matter.” Geoffrey’s tone rang with finality. No matter how lonely he felt, he would not attach himself to some “nice” girl who tolerated him because she wanted to be a countess. Neither would he settle for the miserable excuse his parents’ union had been. He would find a bride he respected and who respected him—not for his title, but for his passions. One who would work side by side with him to change their country, who wouldn’t balk at diverting their personal wealth to help the common Englishman.
Liliana’s face blossomed in his mind’s eye, but Geoffrey banished her before the thought could even take shape. Even if she were someone who might suit, she didn’t possess the connections he’d need to push through his reforms.
“I will find the right bride when I’m meant to. What’s more, choosing a wife is not my first priority,” Geoffrey said. The lives of returning soldiers—the lives he’d vowed to better—were more important than his own.
Joss regarded him for a moment, though he clearly wanted to say more on the subject. He finally settled on, “What are your priorities, then?”
Geoffrey considered how much to divulge. He’d shared little of himself with anyone since his return. He knew Uncle Joss had been his father’s confidante. Why shouldn’t Joss be his, as well?
Geoffrey leaned forward, shifting on the window ledge. “I’m sure you heard something of the uproar last year after I presented my Poverty Relief Bill to Parliament.” He snorted. “You’d have thought I was committing treason by some of the remarks directed my way in the guise of ‘healthy debate.’ ”
“I remember,” Joss said, nodding. “Plenty of talk went round the clubs at the time, about how you’d been a peer for less than a year and there you were, spouting off about the poor. Aren’t there more pressing problems you could champion?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “There is no problem dearer to me than this. Not when nearly four hundred thousand of the so-called poor are soldiers returning home from the wars.” He could see Joss didn’t understand. Perhaps if he made it more personal, more real.
Geoffrey flexed and stretched his left leg in front of him, shifting on the window seat. “Let me tell you what started me on this path. One day, walking along Bond Street, I ran into an old friend from my regiment—a good, honest man who’d served his country for ten dangerous years. I’d personally seen him show leadership, character and courage, like so many other valiant Britons I served with from all classes.”
Geoffrey paused for emphasis. “He was starving, Uncle. Absolutely destitute. When he returned home, it was to nothing. Like so many other soldiers, he was released from the military once he was no longer needed, with no money and no prospects. He left his family and fought for his country, only to have her turn her back on him.” Even now, Geoffrey felt anger swelling inside his chest. He gritted his teeth against it. Anger by itself never did any good.
“I had no idea,” Joss said, not without sympathy.
“Yes, well, neither had I. I’d been so wrapped up in my own responsibilities. I did what I could for his situation, but it naturally led me to look into the plight of other soldiers. There are hundreds of thousands of them on the street who can’t find employment, housing or food. And what poor relief does exist is a top-up system, based on the price of a loaf of bread and the number of children in a household. These men were off fighting, not having families, so they are the last on the list for aid that runs out long before it gets to them. Therefore, they are being forced to steal just to survive,” Geoffrey said fiercely. “It’s appalling after what they’ve given, and something must be done about it.”
Joss crossed his arms over this chest and regarded Geoffrey with a worried expression. “You’re not likely to change the views of the moneyed peers. Didn’t how soundly your bill got trounced show you that?”
Geoffrey pushed himself off of the window ledge. “You’re right, of course. I won’t change their minds, not the way I went about it last time. I must retreat and leave the overt rumblings to come from the House of Commons. Then, as my social and political influence grows, I’ll use it to slowly turn the tide, with Liverpool’s and Wellington’s help.”
Joss raised his brows. “Well, my boy, if you plan to accomplish all that before you take a bride, I suppose I’d better start looking these girls over myself. As heir presumptive, it would seem up to me to carry on the family name.”
Geoffrey laughed. “Look if you will, Uncle, but I doubt it will come to that. Next month, Liverpool will be presenting the Poor Employment Act, which will make significant loans to companies who agree to do public works projects by employing day laborers. That will go a long way to getting soldiers off the streets.”
Joss let out a low whistle.
“Yes, and his liberal Tories will be pushing for more of that kind of change in the future, quietly, of course. Liverpool has asked me to lead that charge, behind the scenes. To do that, I must be a respected member of society and maintain an impeccable reputation.”
The blackmailer’s threat that loomed over him caused Geoffrey to frown, but he pushed worry away. There couldn’t be any substance to it. Once this infernal party was over, he would go back to London and put it to rest. “And I will need to take a wife, as expected of a man in my position, which I intend to do.”
Joss opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Mother sailed back through the door, a victorious smirk riding her face.