A Viscount's Proposal Page 13

  But Leorah didn’t always follow instructions. This might be an instance where she would use her own judgment instead.

  “Miss Leorah Langdon,” Mrs. Culpepper said in her loud, strident, old-lady voice, “however did you hurt your hand?”

  “I fell off my horse and broke the bone here,” Leorah said, holding up her splinted, bandaged arm and pointing to her wrist.

  “Ah yes, we heard something of that, I believe. But we had heard that you broke it in a carriage accident.”

  “No, Mrs. Culpepper. I was thrown from my horse, and Lord Withinghall happened to be passing by on the road in his carriage. He offered to take me home, and then we had a carriage accident. As you probably heard, his carriage overturned, killing his poor coachman and stranding us in the overturned coach in the rain—he with a broken leg and me with my broken wrist. All very innocent, though unfortunate, wouldn’t you agree? And then two gentlemen came along, one a clergyman and the other Mr. Pinegar, a Member of Parliament, and rescued us, bringing us here to Glyncove Abbey.”

  The first of at least a hundred times she would have to tell that story in the next few days.

  “I see.” The coldness in Mrs. Culpepper’s voice and expression angered Leorah. She could pity Lord Withinghall being forced to endure his wife’s aunt’s company for the rest of her life—almost. If he wanted to marry Augusta, then perhaps it would be no hardship to him. But somehow she could not believe Augusta’s and her aunt’s cold superiority would suit him well at all.

  “I am sure there was nothing amiss, Aunt Palladia.” Augusta Norbury stared straight at Leorah without even glancing at her aunt, and the tight smile—if it was a smile—seemed to convey the message, You will stay away from my future husband if you don’t want your eyes scratched out.

  Leorah couldn’t resist the challenge, and she blurted out, “Oh, it was dark, and we had both been sleeping when the men found us, and besides my using Lord Withinghall’s extra clothing as a blanket—”

  Julia, who had been taking a sip of tea, made a strangled, choking sound before setting down her cup and coughing.

  “—we behaved as civilly as we might have had we been surrounded by people.”

  Augusta Norbury’s face turned red, while Mrs. Culpepper stared at Leorah as if she had started speaking Arabic.

  “But Lord Withinghall is a complete gentleman, and even if his leg had not been broken, causing him to nearly faint when he tried to stand, I am sure I would have been completely safe with him . . . alone . . . after dark . . . on a lonely stretch of road.”

  Mrs. Culpepper cleared her throat as though to speak, but Julia quickly interjected, “Oh yes, we were very grateful to find that they were both safe, though injured, after such a terrible accident—the carriage splinter bar actually broken in two, the horses run away, and the two of them stranded with broken bones. Such a terrible accident, but it could have been much worse. Thank God there will be no lasting harm from it, except for Lord Withinghall’s poor coachman, God rest his soul. You will see Lord Withinghall yourself, for he will be arriving before dinner, I am told, if his leg is not worse.”

  Leorah recognized Julia’s panic, the way she spoke quickly to stave off a cold rebuttal from Mrs. Culpepper. And it seemed to have worked, because Miss Norbury’s face lost its bright-red color, and Mrs. Culpepper turned to Julia and nodded sedately. “Yes, it seems it could have been much worse. Well, and that is very fortunate for all.”

  No one could be angry with Julia. Her sincerity and sweet temperament shone on her face as if she were the angel Gabriel.

  Mrs. Culpepper cut her eyes to Leorah again, staring coldly.

  Leorah stifled a giggle. Soon Mrs. Culpepper and Miss Norbury excused themselves to go to their rooms to prepare for dinner.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  That evening at dinner, Leorah couldn’t help watching Lord Withinghall to gauge his reaction upon first seeing Miss Augusta Norbury.

  A few other guests had arrived for the house party. Lord Withinghall, of course, being a viscount, had been seated at the place of highest honor, next to the hostess, Leorah’s mother, and he had escorted Miss Norbury on one arm while leaning on his cane with the other.

  After all the guests were seated, he glanced Miss Norbury’s way, but his expression was unreadable. The young lady only stared straight ahead. Lord Withinghall broke the silence and spoke to her. They began a quiet conversation, which Leorah couldn’t quite hear.

  Leorah did her best to ignore Lord Withinghall and Miss Augusta Norbury but found herself glancing back at them over and over, completely without intending to. Of course she’d been foolish not to think the two were well suited to one another. They were both haughty and cold and unfriendly. She would make him a perfect politician’s wife as she probably had no opinions and would readily profess whatever opinions her husband held, and only when asked.

  Leorah wasn’t sure why this should annoy her so much. She certainly didn’t care who Lord Withinghall married. But wasn’t she entitled to have an opinion about it anyway, since he did ask to marry her first?

  Her reasoning was not sound, and that thought made her even more cross.

  After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room and left the men temporarily in the dining room, as was usual.

  Leorah and Felicity sat down together, and Felicity whispered, “Lord Withinghall looked quite handsome tonight, don’t you think? His new valet is a significant improvement. His hair is much more in keeping with the modern fashion, and his neckcloth has a more becoming style, as well as his coat. I’ve never seen him wear that shade of dark blue. Didn’t you think he looked handsome?”

  “I think his looks would improve even more if he wore a billowy white shirt, open at the neck, with a cutlass between his teeth.”

  “Oh, Leorah, don’t even bring up that little ignominy!” Felicity whispered back. “I wouldn’t wish anyone here to know he heard us compare him to a P-I-R-A-T-E.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Felicity, you don’t have to spell it. No one is listening to us.” Leorah felt a brush of air on her neck and turned her head.

  Mr. Pinegar was leaning toward her, his face barely six inches from her own.

  “Good heavens, Mr. Pinegar! You startled me.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, his face reminding her of a weasel, with his tiny black eyes and pointy nose. “I was about to ask what you two lovely ladies were talking of.”

  “Are the men already joining us?” Leorah avoided answering him, looking over her shoulder at the doorway of the drawing room. In fact, the men were joining them, and she watched as they filed into the room.

  Leorah introduced Mr. Pinegar to Felicity, and they each made the expected remarks.

  “Miss Langdon, I trust your wrist is healing well.” Mr. Pinegar nodded at her arm, thickly wrapped in its splint and bandages. Pinegar’s smile wrinkled his nose and made him look like he was either in pain or smelling something unpleasant.

  “Very well, Mr. Pinegar, I thank you.”

  “And Lord Withinghall? His leg is healing well?”

  “Yes. That is, I hope so.”

  Lord Withinghall entered the room and went and sat beside Miss Norbury, who immediately turned her body toward him.

  Mr. Pinegar nodded vigorously. “I saw that it was a bad break when Mr. Moss and I came upon you and Lord Withinghall in the overturned carriage. It is miraculous that you were not seriously injured in the accident.” He raised his thin little eyebrows at her.

  Leorah didn’t answer him right away. Why did she have the impression that he was quite joyful they had been in an accident? She didn’t like the look on his face at all, and he was speaking so loudly, a few people had turned their heads to listen, including Miss Norbury and Lord Withinghall.

  “No, I was not seriously injured.” Seeing she had an audience, Leorah continued. “And if God is willing, Lord Withinghall’s leg will be perfectly healed in a few weeks. It was a terrible carriage accident, however, and Lord
Withinghall’s coachman was killed, God rest his soul. Such a harrowing experience, and I am so grateful you and Mr. Moss came along when you did to take us home.” Leorah pressed her hand against her chest in feigned distress, then gratitude, as she imagined most ladies would do in the situation.

  The ladies surrounding her shook their heads and made sympathetic noises with their tongues against their teeth.

  “You poor dear,” Mrs. Russell said. She fanned herself with a carved ivory and lace fan, making the flabby skin under her arm flap from side to side. “It must have been so frightening.”

  “Oh yes, and poor Lord Withinghall completely helpless on the floor of the carriage with his broken leg.” She glanced over at her brother Nicholas to see if she was saying the correct thing. He winked and gave her a tiny nod. The entire party of people was now looking at her and listening raptly.

  “Actually,” she went on, “he was lying on the ceiling of the carriage, for it had turned completely upside down and was resting on its top.”

  Several ladies gasped.

  “But Lord Withinghall bore his injury with the greatest patience.” Leorah chanced to glance at Lord Withinghall, and he was scowling most fiercely, reminding her again of his pirate persona. “Yes, Lord Withinghall was completely helpless and unconscious for much of the ordeal. He is nearly recovered, though, as you see, except for his poor leg.”

  She smiled sweetly at the viscount, who did not even attempt to wipe the scowl off his face.

  “But, my dear,” Mrs. Russell said, lowering her voice and leaning forward, “was there no one else in the carriage with you and Lord Withinghall?”

  “We were alone,” Leorah said gravely, “except for the coachman, as Lord Withinghall was on his way home to Grimswood Castle when he encountered me, quite incidentally, just after my horse had thrown me and broken my wrist.”

  Mrs. Russell tilted her head to one side. “I see.”

  “So how came you to have a splint on your arm when Mr. Moss and I found you?” Mr. Pinegar contorted his face into a very puzzled look, even though he had already heard this explanation.

  “Lord Withinghall put the splint on my wrist.”

  Before she could finish her explanation, Mr. Pinegar leaned forward with an eager glint in his eye. “I thought you said Lord Withinghall was quite helpless.”

  “Oh, he put on the splint before the accident. You see, the road was not in very good condition and was jarring my wrist, so Lord Withinghall had the coachman stop the carriage and he splinted my arm with some sticks and bandages.”

  “The coachman splinted your arm?”

  “No, Lord Withinghall splinted it.”

  “The viscount? He was able to splint your arm?” Mr. Pinegar looked around the room, his expression one of open-mouthed astonishment. Many guests stared, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

  Leorah opened her mouth to speak, but Lord Withinghall cut her off.

  “Yes, I was.” His voice was stern and carried easily through the room. No one said a word as all eyes swiveled to Lord Withinghall. She had never seen such complete cessation of conversation in a roomful of people at a dinner party. Every guest waited with bated breath, it seemed, for Lord Withinghall to say more.

  “I had watched the doctor splint my own arm when I was a boy. My coachman and I found some sticks and wrapped Miss Langdon’s arm with the bandages I keep in my carriage. The feat was not extraordinary. We continued on our way, until the carriage broke apart and overturned. This unfortunate accident killed my coachman, who had served both my father and grandfather.” The look in his eyes seemed to dare anyone to contradict his word.

  For several seconds, no one said anything. Even with a large splint on his leg, which was stretched out stiff in front of him, he was a formidable-looking man.

  Mr. Pinegar’s hand twitched, then he coughed and turned back to smile his odd, pained grin at Leorah.

  “We are very thankful to God,” Leorah’s mother said firmly, “that you, Lord Withinghall, and my dear Leorah were not killed in this unfortunate accident.”

  Heads nodded, and there were a few murmurs of agreement.

  Then, just as suddenly as the conversation in the room had stopped, it started again. The guests began talking in normal tones to their neighbors, and Miss Norbury continued to sit stoically beside Lord Withinghall as though nothing at all had happened.

  Felicity appeared slightly stunned. Leorah longed to continue her whispered conversation with her friend, but Mr. Pinegar still lingered near them, oddly reluctant to leave, it seemed. Did the man have designs on her? He looked to be several years older than Lord Withinghall. Leorah would have had no trouble declining a marriage proposal from him.

  Finally, Mr. Pinegar moved away, and Felicity whispered to Leorah, “Did you see how Lord Withinghall was looking at Mr. Pinegar? Like a pirate about to make him walk the plank to his doom.”

  “Felicity, you make me laugh.”

  Leorah glanced Lord Withinghall’s way. He was watching Mr. Pinegar walk away, and truth be told, he looked quite grim.

  The following day, the rest of their guests arrived. One of Elizabeth Mayson’s friends had come, stealing her away, and so Leorah and Felicity stood companionably at the sitting room window, watching the newcomers alight from their carriages at the front entrance. A young man accompanied by a young lady were amongst them.

  “He is very handsome,” Felicity said breathlessly. “Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think I danced with him at a party in London last Season.” Leorah did her best to make out his face, but he didn’t look up.

  Hearing someone else enter the room behind them, Leorah glanced over her shoulder. “Nicholas! Come here and tell us who that man is—there—just arriving.”

  Nicholas peered over her shoulder. “That is Geoffrey Hastings.”

  “What do you know of him?” Leorah asked more for Felicity’s sake than her own, although Leorah thought him handsome as well.

  “I believe he intends to make the church his profession. I don’t know him very well, but Mr. Pinegar asked me to invite him. He is a distant relative of his, and he says he is very charming.”

  The young man in question, Geoffrey Hastings, disappeared from view.

  “Let us see if Miss Norbury will smile at him as I saw her do at a ball last Season.”

  “That sounds accusatory. Have you never smiled at a man?”

  “I know, I am being judgmental. Forgive me.” She frowned back at him. “I hope you don’t ever give that scolding look to Julia.”

  “No, I keep that look in reserve for my rebellious younger sister,” he said. “And you should take care to be meek and likeable to everyone here, remembering that this party is an attempt to try to restore your damaged reputation.”

  “Humph. I didn’t know it was salvageable. Why else would Lord Withinghall have taken the drastic step of asking me to marry him if it could be saved simply by being friendly at a house party?”

  Her brother sighed loudly and looked up at the ceiling.

  “But for the sake of Julia, the Children’s Aid Mission, and my future nieces and nephews, I shall endeavor to save what I can of my reputation.”

  “If you truly mean that, you should not make any more speeches like you did last night, emphasizing the fact that you and Withinghall were alone . . . in the dark . . . for hours.”

  “I could not resist it, Nicholas. Did you see the looks Augusta and her aunt were giving me? It was too tempting.”

  “It was rather amusing,” Mother said, walking toward them. “But you should not do it anymore. You don’t know how cutting and cruel people can be to someone who has been shunned by society. Darling”—Mother patted her cheek—“I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  “Of course, Mother. I shall try to be good.” Mother was so good herself, it was hard to live up to her goodness, but she made Leorah want to try.

  And somehow, it was a bit easier to be good when Father wasn’t
around. Other fathers might have come home immediately, hearing that their daughter had been in a carriage accident, hearing that their daughter’s reputation had been brought into question and a scandal was brewing. Other fathers might have cut their hunting trip short. But her father had not.

  Father had always been deeply concerned in her brothers’ affairs, but he did not seem to concern himself with what happened to Leorah. He left her care entirely up to her mother. It was a pain in her heart that she never spoke of.

  Perhaps that was why, when he was around, she seemed to be even more prone to saying things she knew others would not approve of, to do what she wanted, and not hold herself in check. A tightness clenched in her chest sometimes when he talked on and on with Jonathan and Nicholas but completely ignored her. The tightness became a boiling cauldron when he spoke patronizingly to her, as if she were too stupid to have an intelligent conversation. She had vowed years ago that she would never subject herself to a husband such as that.

  “Never,” she whispered to herself. Never would she marry someone who barely even spoke to his wife and treated her like a mere acquaintance, the way he treated Mother. Never would Leorah enter into a cold, passionless marriage—a fate much worse than losing her reputation.

  The next morning as Leorah started down the hall to see if her friends were ready for breakfast, she heard the rumble of a familiar voice coming from her father’s study.

  He stepped out the door and raised his hand. “There you are, girl. Come here. I must speak with you.” Father’s bushy white eyebrows drew together.

  A heaviness invaded her chest. She entered the room, and he closed the door behind her.

  “What’s this I hear about your dalliance with Lord Withinghall?”

  Leorah’s cheeks grew hot. “There was nothing of the sort. The carriage we were in overturned and—”

  “It is all over London that you spent the night in his carriage on the road.”

  “Your voice is so loud, every servant in the house and half the guests will hear you.”

  “You can depend upon it; they’ve heard it already. And now you have refused his offer of marriage.” He fairly growled the words. “Well? What do you have to say?”