Lord Withinghall’s lips lifted at the corners. “Perhaps we shall renew the old traditions . . . someday.”
“Why not? Our generation can have its own ideas about Christmas.”
“And celebrate the birth of our Savior, instead of making it an insipid, empty holiday.”
“Precisely.” Leorah smiled, and he smiled back—just as her father came barreling down the stairs holding a gun in each hand.
“We shall be ready for anything, my lord!” he said in his booming voice.
Lord Withinghall politely took his leave of her and followed her father down the stairs.
Edward left Miss Langdon on the stair and went with Mr. Langdon outside. A servant climbed onto the seat next to his coachman, Sims, a rifle laid across his lap. The elder Mr. Langdon planned to accompany them on his horse. Mr. Langdon was an old ex-military man and seemed to relish the idea of someone opening fire on them.
“It’s probably those Luddite rebels,” he growled after he had mounted his horse. “They all ought to be shot for their insolence.” He wore a pistol on each hip as he rode beside the carriage.
Truthfully, Edward still had no idea why anyone would want to kill him, but he did not suspect the Luddites. He was aware that Pinegar considered him a rival in Parliament, but it still made no sense. And Hastings, Nicholas had confided, had asked Leorah to marry him in a most awkward manner, and she had refused him. That man would have no real reason to want him dead either. And Edward had no reason to suspect anyone else.
But someone had tampered with his carriage, and someone had almost certainly shot at him the day before.
In spite of the mystery and the potential danger, Edward found himself mulling over his interactions with Miss Langdon from the night before. What did she think of him? Had her opinions of him changed? There seemed to be a difference in the way she looked at him, and her manner was much altered from the way she had spoken when he had proposed marriage to save their reputations.
When she had told him she was praying for him to have a safe journey, his heart had soared, and he’d had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak. It was what anyone might have said, but coming from Leorah . . . She never gave lip service to sentiments that were not her own. She also was not afraid of disagreeing with any and everyone else’s opinions. And as a politician who so often associated with other politicians, he found that extremely refreshing.
When they reached Grimswood Castle without incident, Mr. Langdon looked disappointed.
“The impudent blighters didn’t dare show themselves today,” Mr. Langdon said as he dismounted to accept Edward’s invitation for a drink by the fire.
“Well, it is Christmas, after all.”
“Eh?”
“Christmas. Today is Christmas.”
“Oh yes, so it is.” But the thought seemed lost on the man as he began asking about Edward’s hunting dogs and how often he liked to go out shooting. At least he had stopped trying to force Leorah to marry him. Such a strategy was surely counterproductive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Leorah’s trip to London to stay with Felicity had to be postponed during the month of January due to extremely cold weather and the dangerous state of the roads. But finally, in February, she was able to make the trip.
She and Felicity went daily for their morning constitutional with Elizabeth in tow, and if a manservant were able to accompany them, they went to Hyde Park for a more extensive walk. It was cold, but otherwise the weather and London’s smoky air did not hinder them.
After one such walk, Leorah and Felicity had just arrived home and taken off their gloves and bonnets and sat down to tea when visitors were announced—the Earl of Blakeney, the Earl of Matherly, and Lord Crenshaw.
Felicity’s face blanched white. Even her lips lost their color. “What could this mean?” she whispered.
“I’ve no idea. I’ve only met and spoken to them once. I am as astonished as you are. Still, we cannot refuse to receive them. You must bid them come in.”
Felicity looked at the butler and swallowed. “Show them in, Stephens.”
The butler nodded and disappeared. He quickly reappeared and said in his deepest and most formal voice, “The Earl of Blakeney, the Earl of Matherly, and Lord Crenshaw.”
The three men entered the room. “Forgive us for intruding,” Lord Blakeney said, “but we are here on a matter of business that should not take long.”
“I am so sorry,” Felicity said, “but my father and mother are both away from home at present.”
“No need to apologize,” Lord Blakeney said. “It is Miss Langdon with whom we wish to speak.”
Leorah inhaled quickly. A bit of saliva got sucked down her throat, and she coughed.
“Won’t you sit down?” Felicity said.
A bit of color had returned to Felicity’s cheeks, but her hand trembled as she indicated the chairs opposite the couch where she and Leorah sat.
“Stephens, please bring us more tea things.”
“There is no need,” Lord Blakeney said. “Our business will not take long.”
Felicity nodded to dismiss the butler. “Should I leave as well?”
“That will not be necessary,” Lord Matherly said. “We will get to the point quickly. Miss Langdon, I’m sure you know that Lord Withinghall has a very exceptional future in Parliament. Already he was Under-Secretary of State at the age of twenty-two before becoming a Junior Lord of the Treasury at twenty-three. Now, at the age of twenty-nine, he is poised to ascend to even greater political heights. He could easily become the next Prime Minister.”
“I am well aware of Lord Withinghall’s successes as well as his ambitions.” She allowed the caution to creep into her voice, as she was already suspicious of the purpose of this visit from three such important men.
“What Lord Matherly is trying to say,” Lord Blakeney interjected, “is that Lord Withinghall is a great statesman who has the best interests of his country, his king, and his people in mind. And as a politician, he must guard his reputation with great zeal. And as a young lady whose reputation has already been somewhat tainted by being discovered in Lord Withinghall’s overturned carriage without a chaperone, we hope you understand that it would be prudent for both you and the viscount if you avoided him in social situations.”
Heat rose into Leorah’s cheeks and into her forehead. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“All we are asking,” Lord Crenshaw added, “is that you not attend balls, parties, and other social functions where Lord Withinghall will be present, or at least refrain from speaking to him or dancing with him.”
“It is for Lord Withinghall’s own good,” Lord Blakeney said. “You would not wish to harm him or his career, would you?”
“Does Lord Withinghall know you came to say these things to me?”
“Lord Withinghall trusts us to assist and advise him in all his political dealings,” Lord Matherly said. “We only wish what is best for our country, as I’m sure you do as well.”
“You do know Lord Withinghall asked me to marry him, do you not?”
“And you refused him, did you not?”
“I did.”
“And will you agree not to entice him into asking you a second time to marry him?” Lord Matherly leaned forward on the edge of his seat.
“I am certain I have never been so insulted in my life.”
“There is no need for you to pretend—”
Leorah cut him off. “I am a gentleman’s daughter. Any man my father approves of as a husband will receive twenty thousand pounds. I have never enticed anyone in my twenty-two years. To be spoken to in this manner, even if it is by two earls and a baron, is highly offensive. Lord Withinghall is an honorable man, and our friendship is a very honorable one. I shall not agree to avoid Lord Withinghall at any social function to which I have been invited. If you wish to keep us from conversing with each other, you shall have to convince Lord Withinghall of such a necessity.”<
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With that, Leorah rose to her feet to indicate that the conversation was over. Her cheeks were burning, but otherwise it was as if ice flowed through her veins.
“You are not displaying the sort of prudence I had hoped for,” Lord Blakeney said, rising from his seat. “I am very sorry you do not see the wisdom in helping Lord Withinghall preserve his reputation and his place in Parliament. Perhaps we shall speak to your father.”
“Yes, you should speak to my father. I believe he arrived in London a few days ago.” Her father would brook no insolence from them. He, of course, still had his heart set on her marrying the viscount, if it could possibly be managed.
“We shall bid you both a good day then.”
The three men exited the room and were soon gone.
Felicity sank against the cushioned back of the couch and clutched at her neck. “Oh my goodness. I can hardly believe what just happened. Two earls and a baron! In my drawing room! But you, Leorah! You were magnificent.”
Leorah sank down beside her and rubbed her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been so angry in my life.”
“I was shaking and could hardly catch my breath, but you were so poised, and what you said . . . it was perfection.”
“Do you really think so? My mother would have fainted to hear what I said to them—to Lord Blakeney, an earl, no less.”
“I must say, I could barely keep my countenance at the surprise on their faces when you refused to do what they asked of you. But I do not blame you, Leorah. It was the right thing to say, I am quite sure. And poor Lord Withinghall! To have such friends as those.”
“But perhaps they were right, Felicity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps I should stay away from him so that people will forget what happened. It was more than enough to cause a scandal, after all, and Lord Withinghall despises scandal, especially after what happened to his father. Perhaps it would be the kindest thing I could do for him.”
“To shun him? No, Leorah. I do not think he would consider that to be kind.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“Of course I am. And you were perfectly correct in telling them that if they wish the viscount to avoid you, they should convince him, for I do not believe Lord Withinghall will do anything of the kind, and he will probably give them a good set down for even suggesting such a thing.”
“But if he does avoid me this Season, I will know that he truly is worried about his reputation and wishes to distance himself from me.”
Her heart sank at the thought. But why should she care? If Lord Withinghall did not value her friendship any more than that, then she was well rid of him. Let him rise to prominence and please his arrogant friends.
Truthfully, she did not think Lord Withinghall so unworthy as that. But she would have to wait and see. The social season would be underway soon, as Parliament was in session and the cold weather had let up. Lord Withinghall, of course, was already in London.
Leorah, Felicity, and Felicity’s aunt, Miss Agnes Appleby, rode in their carriage to visit their friends at the Children’s Aid Mission. Leorah was especially anxious to see how Rachel and her baby girl were doing, as she had only received one letter from Rachel since leaving London for Glyncove Abbey late last summer.
They arrived and were welcomed by Mr. John Wilson and his lovely wife, Sarah.
“Won’t you join us for tea?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
They all sat down, and Mr. Wilson began discussing with Leorah the state of the mission’s finances, as he often did when she came with Nicholas. All was well, thanks to their donors.
“Mr. Wilson, I have been wondering about Rachel and her baby. Are they well? She has not written to me lately.”
John Wilson glanced over at his wife. The look they exchanged made Leorah’s heart leap into her throat.
“What? What is the matter?”
Sarah leaned toward Leorah. She had everyone’s attention as she said, “I’m afraid Rachel has disappeared. No one knows what has become of her and her baby.”
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“She was evicted from her rooms on Bishopsgate Street, paid for by the man who . . . the father of her child, and she moved into the home for unwed mothers.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“Well, one evening a man came to the home and took her and the baby away with only one bag. Most of her belongings were left behind.”
“And she never came back to fetch them?”
John Wilson shook his head. “We kept them for her, thinking she would either come back for them or send for them, but we have not heard from her since.”
“And when was this?” Dread filled her chest.
“November.”
“Where could she be?” Leorah gripped her gloves, which she had taken off when they’d sat down. “Where could she have been all this time that she could not write to us?”
“She might be afraid to write to us,” Sarah said, a sad look in her eyes. “That man knew she was helping here at the mission. He may have threatened her if she should write to us. She was already afraid of anyone finding out who he was, as he had told her he would do something terrible to her and the baby if she told anyone. He may have threatened to do something to the mission.”
“But that means she is still in his power. I shudder to think of such an awful thing.”
“If only we could help her,” Felicity added.
“Yes,” Leorah said, “we must find her and help her.”
“I don’t know how we possibly can,” Mrs. Wilson said, “unless she contacts one of us. There is no way of knowing where she has gone.”
They all sat in silence, even Miss Appleby, who often prattled about nothing when she was nervous.
“Poor Rachel,” Felicity said and sighed.
After their tea, they played with the children. Even Miss Appleby got down on her knees on the grass and helped a little girl who had fallen and was crying because her dress had gotten dirty. They played blindman’s buff, which made Leorah forget, for a few minutes, about poor Rachel, but on their way home, she could not stop thinking about her.
After they reached Felicity’s town house in Mayfair, Leorah bit her bottom lip and clasped her hands together. “There must be some way of discovering Rachel’s whereabouts. I would ask Nicholas, but he and Julia have just moved into their new estate, and Julia has entered her confinement. I couldn’t ask him to leave her to go look for Rachel, especially since we don’t have any idea where she is.”
Her brother and his wife had purchased an estate in the southern part of Lincolnshire just after Christmas.
“Perhaps we could hire someone to find her,” Felicity suggested.
“Yes, but who? Where would we even begin to find someone?”
Felicity sighed. “I would not want my father to even know we were thinking of doing such a thing. He would not approve, to say it mildly. But poor Rachel. What if that man does something to the baby out of cruelty? He is obviously an evil sort of person.”
“Oh dear,” Miss Appleby lamented as she sat opposite them, suddenly dropping her knitting in her lap. She dug a hand into her reticule and drew out a handkerchief, just in time to catch the tear that ran down her cheek. “I should not go with you to that place.”
“What place, Auntie?” Felicity patted her spinster aunt’s arm.
“That mission with all those poor children. It always breaks my heart. And now Rachel and her poor baby.”
“Oh, Auntie, you’re too sweet.”
“Mr. Moss, our rector at Glyncove Abbey, always says, ‘Problems are best left in the hands of God.’ Let us not borrow trouble. Perhaps it was a long-lost cousin who took Rachel to live with a relative she did not know about.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Felicity gave Leorah a private frown and raised brows.
“But”—Miss Appleby’s brows drew together—“if she had gone to live with a relative, would she not have written to tell
you?”
“Perhaps her letter went astray,” Leorah said. “Or she has been too busy to write.”
“Or she cannot afford the paper or postage,” Felicity said. “Truly, it is possible. We shall not think the worst.”
“Please don’t mind me,” Miss Appleby said, wiping her eyes. “I thank you for trying to be brave for me, but though I am overly nervous, I am not an invalid. I know you are both worried too.”
There seemed to be nothing Leorah could do except pray for Rachel and her baby’s well-being and that Rachel would write to them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Mr. Pinegar is undermining your support.”
Edward stared back at the three men, Lord Matherly, Lord Blakeney, and Lord Crenshaw, who sat opposite him in his library. It was late, and Edward was tired from a long day of rhetoric and tedium in Parliament, but he leaned forward as Lord Matherly went on.
“He is doing his best to talk the other members of the House of Commons out of voting for your children’s education bill, and he’s got a few helpers in the House of Lords.”
“But why? Is he so against education?”
“We think it is based on a particular dislike he has of you,” Lord Blakeney said. “Have you done something to anger the man?”
Edward shook his head slowly. “Not that I know of.”
“He is being devious about it and obviously doesn’t want news of what he’s doing to get back to you.”
Edward stood and paced to the window. Night had fallen, but the street outside still teemed with people, horses, and carriages.
“He has also been spreading the rumors about you and Miss Langdon spending the night together in an overturned carriage.” Lord Blakeney held up his hand and sighed. “I know you did nothing wrong, but Pinegar is using it to try to ruin you. I suppose he must see you as a rival, but it’s unlikely he should ever rise high enough to become the Prime Minister. It seems as though he simply wants to . . . harm you.”
And Edward had not even told them about his suspicions that Pinegar was behind the sabotaged carriage.
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