When Easton finished reading, he looked up. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say here. Slavery has already been banned in England.”
“Yes, it was banned in England and Wales in 1807. However, it’s still legal and thriving in the colonies. I’m trying to put an end to that as well. No one should be enslaved. It’s not right,especially since I hear some of the plantation overseers are quite brutal with their whips and punishments.”
“Father, it’s a well-crafted argument, but I fear it won’t garner much support. Our colonies in the Caribbean depend on slaves to harvest the sugar cane. Many investors find it a lucrative business to fill their coffers, and I seriously doubt any of them would vote to pass this bill. It would be the end of their easy money.”
Lord Devon sighed. “I know. Not many men have an excellent advisor like Ludlow to guide them on investments. He’s amazing, and my investments are paying handsomely.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t know how he does it, but my coffers certainly thank him.”
“I have to keep trying to get this passed. No one should own another human being. It’s plain wrong, and while I still have breath in my body, I’ll continue to fight to have slavery abolished in our colonies.”
“I understand, Father, and wholeheartedly share your sentiment. I would suggest a few changes to the third paragraph.”
“Of course. What would you propose instead?”
Easton sat with his father for the next hour as they worked on the language of the anti-slavery bill. He always enjoyed spending time with the earl. His father had a wealth of knowledge, and even when Easton was young, he’d passed it along in easy-to-understand lessons. Managing the earldom was a monumental task, and his father had begun his instruction to his heir early on, even before Easton realized he was learning those valuable lessons. Now that he was older, he was grateful to his father for his ability to impart knowledge in ways a youngster could understand without making it overly complicated.
“I appreciate your help,” Lord Devon said when they were satisfied with the final arguments in the bill. “Will I see you at the Carter soiree this evening?”
Easton stood. “I don’t know. Perhaps. I don’t want to make any promises,” he said and left the study. As he walked down the hallway, he could hear a distinctive laugh.
What was she doing here?
He was standing in the drawing room doorway, observing the scene, when his mother looked up and saw him. “Easton, how delightful. I didn’t know you were here. Do join us, my dear,” she said.
All eyes turned to him when he walked in.
“Mother, Lady Fletcher, Miss Parker, good day,” he said with a bow.
Both Parker sisters stood and curtseyed. “Good day, Lord Easton,” Lady Fletcher said.
When Miss Parker turned those sparkling blue eyes on him, his heart did a stutter step. It was almost like she’d reached inside his chest and deepened his obsession with her. As much as he’d tried to convince himself that she had no hold on him, his traitorous heart had other ideas.
What was it about her that was so alluring? She was beautiful, of course; no one could doubt that, with those cornflower-blue eyes, that creamy complexion, and a figure that could drive a man wild, but it was more than that. She had a certain spark about her, like she was the sun and everyone else was merely orbiting around her, trying to soak up the warmth.
“Lord Easton, how delightful to see you,” Miss Parker said. “It’s been too long.”
Before Easton could make a fool of himself by gaping at her, he was saved from embarrassment by the maid bringing in a tea tray, breaking the tension he felt. He took the seat on the other side of his mother, the farthest one away from Miss Parker.
“Will there be anything else, Lady Devon?” the maid asked.
“No, that’s all.”
The maid curtseyed and left the room.
“Miss Parker, will you pour?” Lady Devon asked.
“Of course,” Miss Parker said, standing and moving to the tray. “Lord Easton, how do you like your tea?”
Easton always took two lumps of sugar, but after reading his father’s argument against all kinds of slavery, he decided he could no longer in good conscience indulge in such a luxury. “A splash of milk, please.”
Miss Parker handed out cups to them, then prepared one for herself and returned to her seat.
“How are you enjoying the Season thus far?” he asked, for lack of something better to say. He inwardly cringed, as that was almost as bad as talking about the weather, but he had to do something to quiet the pounding of his heart.
“It’s been ever so much fun,” she said, her eyes lighting up with joy. “Tonight, we’re going to the soiree at the Carters’. Lady Fletcher has been asked to sing.”
“Is that so?”