SGB Chapter 299

## Chapter 299: A Shocking Secret (4K2)

**A quiet private box on the third floor of the Astley’s Amphitheatre.**

The sound of clinking glasses echoed as Viscount Palmerston raised his glass, lightly touching it against the glass of Lady Leven, his companion for the evening.

Lady Leven, with a charming smile, expressed her gratitude. “Henry, you’ve truly become more adept at your work in the Foreign Office after a year in office. I’ve always seen a certain irresistible social charm in you, and you’ve applied it well to diplomacy. Regardless of what others say, I think you’ve been the best in this position in Britain for decades, even surpassing Sir George Canning and Viscount Castlereagh. You’ve diligently avoided conflict between Britain and Russia, bringing precious peace to Europe.”

Viscount Palmerston, with his signature smile, flattered the Russian ambassador’s wife and one of the hostesses of the Almack’s Club.

“Dorothea, I wouldn’t be where I am today without your insightful advice. When I was drowning in debt, it was you who extended your slender but powerful arm and pulled me out of the swamp. And when I was about to be abandoned by the Tories, you played the bridge between me and the Whigs, allowing this helpless sailor to switch camps before the ship sank.

Dorothea, you’re an angel to many, but to me, you are an untouchable Muse. You’re not only skilled in song and dance, your dance steps are among the best even in Almack’s Club. But compared to your wisdom, your elegant steps, enough to make countless ladies and noblewomen envious, are merely red cherries adorning a cream cake.

Speaking of this, I must thank you once again. If you hadn’t built up support for me at Almack’s Club and had Lord Leven use his personal connections to lobby Earl Grey, the Prime Minister, I wouldn’t have been able to secure the position of Foreign Secretary, a newcomer who had just switched parties. Although everyone says I’m amorous, no one has ever said I’m ungrateful. I’ll always remember this kindness.”

Lady Leven, gazing at the stage play unfolding below, suddenly raised her hand to rest her chin on the windowsill. “The performance at Astley’s Theatre is more interesting than I expected today. Whether it’s the stage premieres of *The Count of Monte Cristo* and *The Pickwick Papers*, or the duel between Mr. Hastings and Mr. Bertrand, they’re all quite captivating. As for Mr. Chopin’s performance, not to mention, his technique is truly as good as the rumors I heard in the Russian court, if not even better.”

Viscount Palmerston, catching the underlying meaning in Lady Leven’s words, politely inquired, “Is Chopin very famous in Russia?”

Lady Leven responded in a veiled way, “Indeed. Perhaps Chopin’s name isn’t yet known in Britain, but in St. Petersburg, his name is like… well… perhaps it’s similar to Mr. Hastings’s status in London. Since Chopin became famous in Poland at a very young age, when His Majesty Alexander I visited Poland, he invited the fifteen-year-old Chopin to perform in his concert.

The Tsar was delighted and even bestowed upon Chopin a diamond ring he was wearing as a sign of his approval and reward for his performance. From then on, Chopin’s fame spread throughout Russia. I thought such an outstanding figure should have stayed in the St. Petersburg court, nurtured by the embrace of the Russian mother, to unleash his musical talent. But I unexpectedly met him here in London today.”

Connecting this to the recent news in London’s media and the current surge of British public interest in Poland, Palmerston naturally understood Lady Leven’s meaning.

Just like Lady Leven’s praise for him, a brilliant diplomat could decipher countless implications from seemingly ordinary words.

Palmerston responded with a smile, “I know Russia and Poland have been at odds over some minor conflicts recently, and the British public’s concern and enthusiasm for this matter have exceeded their normal limits. I’ve made many efforts in Parliament to calm these emotions. But as you know, hasn’t there been news about Mr. Bernie Harrison offering assistance to the Polish lady?

The editor of *The Times*, Thomas Barnes, that clown, took advantage of this incident and, as usual, seized the opportunity to stir up the heat about Poland once again. The Westminster Association has been protesting about the Polish issue, although I believe such protests are baseless and unreasonable.

But after all, the Foreign Office can’t always oppose them. I think it’s necessary to hold a concert to release their pressure and dissatisfaction. I mentioned this to Lord Leven in an informal conversation earlier. A concert doesn’t mean Britain has changed its stance. The Foreign Office has no intention of attacking our reliable allies, and your husband understands this very well.”

Lady Leven, hearing this, turned her head, fixing her watery black eyes on Palmerston. Suddenly, she burst out laughing.

“Henry, look at you. You must be overworked these days, always in a state of battling in Parliament and the Foreign Office. You’ve even become so formal and long-winded even when chatting with a simple woman like me who doesn’t understand politics and diplomacy?”

Palmerston, taking off his hat, replied with a smile, “Dorothea, I’m just worried about making you angry. Can I have the honor of dancing with you at Almack’s Ball next week?”

Lady Leven raised her hand to admire her emerald ring. “Actually, my dance partner is already set. But if it’s you, the charming Henry, I wouldn’t mind switching partners for a waltz. But… aren’t you afraid of Emily getting angry? She’s been trying to claim your long-term dance partner position.”

Palmerston responded with a laugh, “Why would she be? Emily understands these things. Besides, she’s hosting a salon at home this weekend. Even if I wanted to dance with her, she wouldn’t have the time.”

Lady Leven shook her head lightly. “Emily has been quite devoted to Lord Cowper. If not for her managing the Cowper family’s social circle, Lord Cowper, with his dull and uninspired personality, would have been excluded from the mainstream British political circle long ago. But speaking of which, if Emily hadn’t acted impulsively and eloped when she was young, she could have married a more humorous and influential husband.

She was too impulsive and too easily deceived by men. And at that time, she didn’t understand the nature of marriage. Wanting to tie love and marriage together, such a good thing is usually difficult to achieve. If she had been as free-spirited as she is today decades earlier, with her ability to manage her husband’s social circle, she might have become the Prime Minister’s wife by now. Instead, she’s stuck with Lord Cowper, who is taciturn, unarticulate, and blushes whenever he chats with ladies.

It’s his luck to have met Emily. If she hadn’t made a fool of herself, making old Lord Melbourne anxious to find a husband for her, Lord Cowper wouldn’t have picked up such a bargain. But speaking of which, Emily’s whole family seems to be no ordinary bunch.

Old Lord Melbourne was a playboy in his youth. Emily’s mother, Lady Melbourne, was a famous socialite in London back then, trusted and favored by the late King George IV. If not for her, old Lord Melbourne wouldn’t have been promoted from a simple Baronet to a Viscount step by step.

And Emily’s sister-in-law, Lady Ponsonby, the wife of young Lord Melbourne, their story is even more interesting. When Lord Byron was still alive, all the big and small newspapers in London were basically alive on the gossip about Lady Ponsonby and Lord Byron. Looking back, the quiet and refined young Lord Melbourne was an anomaly in their family.”

Ladies always love gossiping, and Palmerston was happy to shift the topic from Poland, maintaining mystery and secrecy being his consistent political style, his strategy for protecting himself and attacking his opponents.

He’d rather chat about nonsense than reveal a few more of his views on foreign policy.

Viscount Palmerston said, “William is truly a poor fellow. With his demeanor and consistent manners, if he had been born into a normal aristocratic family, he would have definitely grown up to be a moral model admired by the priests. He’s polite and courteous, knows his boundaries when dealing with ladies, and that’s how he appears to everyone. But… Dorothea, if you really think of him as an abstinent monk, you’d be wrong.

William actually had quite a wild time when he was young. He was even involved in a divorce case early on. But perhaps because of his wife’s public scandal with Byron later, coupled with his unhappy marriage, William’s sharp edges were gradually smoothed. While he wasn’t obsessed with physical contact, he needed emotional support more than other men.

Fortunately, I’ve recently discovered that he seems to have found his true love. Since William met that lovely lady, his mental state has significantly improved. As a friend, I’m genuinely happy for him.”

“Oh?”

As expected, Viscount Palmerston’s topic instantly sparked Lady Leven’s curiosity.

She chided Palmerston, “Henry, you know I want to know about this. Why are you being so secretive?”

Palmerston chuckled mischievously, “It’s not that I’m being secretive. But I think, instead of me saying it here, why not let you go to the next box and have a look around? Dorothea, you know, my mouth has always been very tight. I don’t like spreading my friends’ secrets.”

“You mean… they’re in the next room?” Lady Leven gasped, covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes widening in surprise. “Lord Melbourne and his close lover?”

“Cough cough…” Viscount Palmerston coughed, “Dorothea, you can’t say it like that. William always emphasizes that he and that lady are innocent, and I believe his integrity. Their relationship is more like a spiritual connection. As for whether they’ve gone physical, only God knows.”

Lady Leven, hearing this, raised her fan to cover half her face, her eyes crinkled into a smile. “Henry, you’re such a rascal. So you sent me there to witness their truth or falsehood with my own eyes, and then come back and report to you? Forget it, I’m not playing your game. You should keep these words for Parliament.”

Palmerston flattered her with a smile, “My dear Dorothea, I told you, if you were a British man, I’d probably be out of the British political scene in half a day. In the presence of Prime Minister Dorothea, all my tricks are useless.”

Lady Leven leaned forward slightly, resting her head against Palmerston’s chest. “That’s not necessarily true. You’re a sly fox, always holding back something. I don’t believe you’ve used up all your tricks. To punish you for your dishonesty, you must show me something new today.”

Lady Leven’s hand caressed Palmerston’s cheek, her eyes filled with tenderness. “Henry, this request shouldn’t be too much, should it?”

Palmerston put his arms around the beauty’s waist, his breathing becoming heavy. “Dorothea, you know, I’ll never refuse a lady’s request. Although I don’t admit to lying, if you insist on seeing something new, I’ll have to invent something even if I rack my brains.”

The two were inseparable, lost in the moment.

Suddenly, a thud, the door to the box was kicked open.

Then, a roar that could almost reach the entire floor, “Caroline, you filthy bitch, lowly prostitute! I knew you and Melbourne were doing these filthy things!”

Viscount Palmerston was startled, his whole body jolted. Lady Leven was also frightened by the sudden roar and hid in her companion’s arms, not even daring to show her face.

After a brief moment of brain freeze, Palmerston finally came to his senses.

He looked at the magistrate Norton, who stood at the door, coming to catch them in the act. He took a good look before confirming that he didn’t recognize this man.

Viscount Palmerston slammed the table and roared, “Who are you, you scoundrel! Why did you barge into my room?”

Norton, using the dim light in the room, looked around for a long time before realizing that he seemed to have gone to the wrong place. And this face seemed familiar. It was none other than the powerful Foreign Secretary.

Norton felt a chill run down his spine. The anger he had carefully nurtured instantly subsided. He awkwardly smiled, “Sorry, I think I got the wrong room.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a slap, the door to the box was closed again.

Viscount Palmerston was so angry that he lifted his coat and drew his pistol. As he drew his gun, he roared at the door, “Damn you! Don’t run, you scoundrel!”

But when he ran outside, the fellow who had disrupted his good time had vanished into the hallway without a trace.

There were still echoes of his and his companion’s angry arguments in the hallway.

“Bernie, you bastard, didn’t you say it was that room?”

“How the hell should I know! I got the information, it was that room. Maybe Lord Melbourne changed his ticket at the last minute or changed rooms?”

“Damn it! I knew you got caught soliciting for a reason!”

“Go to hell, you think your brain is any better?!”

(End of Chapter)