Page 8 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
The more Nick warmed to his subject, the more heated his voice became. “Now perhaps the good citizens of Mayfair will understand some of the terrors the West End poor have faced for years. Parliament will understand the need to do away with our outmoded police force. The time has come to organize one efficient central unit?—”
“My dear Nick,” Mandell interrupted as soon as he could get a word in. “If you are going to start addressing me as though I were a public meeting, I fear I will be obliged to eschew the pleasure of your company.”
“But—”
“And besides, you know I am the last person likely to sympathize with your notion of an efficient police.”
Their eyes locked and Nick apparently took his meaning, for he spoke in milder tones. “What happened to your mother in Paris took place a very long time ago, Mandell, and it was a different thing altogether.”
“Was it?” Mandell said, his voice going cold and hard. He was on the verge of leaving when Nick flung up one hand.
“No, I am sorry. Come back. I promise I have done with my speeches about the police. This was not what I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”
Mandell returned, but he eyed his cousin with wariness, wondering about the nature of the favor Nick required. Nick was not often beforehand with the world, yet he seldom asked to borrow money, at least not for himself.
Mandell had a dread that Nick’s forthcoming request must have something to do with one of his infernal causes.
Nick cleared his throat, a bad sign. “Of course, you know John Hastings.”
“No, I cannot say that I do.”
“He is my footman, the one who usually answers the front door.”
Mandell’s brows rose a fraction. “I have a vague recollection of some burly youth, but I have not as yet had opportunity to strike up an intimacy with him.”
“Don’t go all haughty on me, Mandell,” Nick implored. “The thing is, John wants to marry Emily.”
Mandell regarded him blankly.
“Emily, your downstairs maid.”
“I was not aware that I had a downstairs maid, let alone one named Emily, but I will take your word for it,” Mandell said. “Now what is all of this to do with me? I am not the girl’s father to be giving my blessing.”
“No, but it would be much more convenient for John to be part of the same household as his bride. Alas, I am not in a financial position to take on any more servants. I thought, that is I hoped, you might be persuaded to employ John.”
Mandell frowned. “Sometimes, Nicholas, the interest you take in the affairs of your servants borders on madness.”
“Then you refuse?”
Mandell knew he certainly should. He kept only a small staff at his London house. Nor did he think that Nick’s tendency to meddle with the lower orders should be encouraged. This incident was a minor one, but as a member of the House of Commons, Nick was forever pressing for reforms to alleviate what he deemed the misery of the working class.
“What the boy does not understand,” Mandell’s grandfather would frequently growl, “is that reform only leads to idleness and dissatisfaction amongst the poor. From there it is but a step away to revolution.”
The danger of revolution was one of the few points that Mandell and the Duke of Windermere agreed upon, born of a shared pain. The old man grieved for the loss of a beloved daughter, Mandell for the mother he had barely known.
Mandell started to refuse Nick’s request, but his cousin looked so hopeful. It seemed churlish to disappoint Nick over such a trivial thing. The fate of the nation could hardly be affected by permitting the marriage of one insignificant servant.
Mandell vented an exasperated sigh. “Oh, the devil! What is another footman more or less?”
Nick brightened. He leapt up to shake Mandell’s hand. “Damme, Mandell. You’re a capital fellow.”
“Now is there anything else you think I should do?” Mandell grumbled. “Perhaps arrange a wedding breakfast for the happy couple?”
“You needn’t go as far as that, but a small gift might be nice.”
At Mandell’s dark look, Nick grinned. “Only jesting,” he said.
Their business concluded, Mandell and he stepped past the curtain, returning to the ballroom. If anything, the gallery seemed more crowded than before.
