Joseph wondered if he’d be able to get a damn drink at this reception or not. He knew Lord Edgar was a prohibitionist but he hoped the man restricted his views to himself and didn’t try to extend it to any formal or social events. They were hard enough for any man of character to stand as they were but without a drink in hand it would be intolerable.
His editor thought it would be good for him to get out, away from continual re-writes and his own thoughts and try and take him some of the culture London had to offer. Joseph was here representing the Morning Chronicle, although thank god he wouldn’t be the one writing about this dreadful evening for tomorrow’s edition. Miss Tabitha Cartwright handled social events and gossip, and more power to her. Joseph could see her now making her way around the young women of the parish, no doubt asking about dresses and beaus and recording it all down in that finely tuned mind. There was a woman who never forgot a word said to her, or the face that said it.
Drawing his eyes away from Miss Cartwright’s activities Joseph forced his features into a smile. He might have a strongly worded letter for the editor tomorrow about how thickly he spread his small publishing force and how some, like Joseph, would have their efforts better spent in other pursuits.