How was staring at a street in Cheapside more interesting than Lady Yorke’s soiree? Oh, very well. Just about anything was more interesting than Lady Yorke’s soiree. Watching grass grow was more interesting, and sitting in his carriage for the last hour, circling the same street, was about as interesting as watching grass grow. He sighed and massaged his temples. He might as well sit here. It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do, since Parliament did not sit tonight. He smiled, thinking of the speech he’d given at the last session. It had been a rousing denunciation of a proposed bill to allocate more funds to help the poor. The poor! What about the military or the farmers? What about the deuced Irish problem? Dane had argued quite successfully—as the bill had been defeated—that the poor deserved their fate. They were lazy or preferred sloth to hard work. Dirty, uneducated, and immoral, the lowest classes were barely human.
