A Viscount's Proposal (The Regency Spies of London #2)
Melanie Dickerson
CHAPTER ONE
May 1813
Was this the night she would actually die of tedium, triviality, and hypocrisy?
Leorah Langdon scanned the crowded ballroom and spied an empty chair against the wall next to Felicity Mayson.
Leorah caught Felicity’s eye and waved her over with a flick of her hand.
“Thank heaven I’m not the only person unoccupied enough to sit with the dowagers.” Leorah squeezed Felicity’s hand. “I was just about to find an out-of-the-way nook and fall asleep.”
“Leorah.” Felicity shook her head and almost succeeded in stifling a snort. “You should at least enjoy the music.”
“There’s an elderly companion by that potted plant over there.” Leorah inclined her head toward the lady with the steel-gray curls whose head was leaning on her own shoulder, her chest rising and falling in the deep rhythms of sleep. The feather fan in her lap kept time with her breathing, blowing back and forth.
“Poor Mrs. Thwaites.” Felicity couldn’t quite suppress her grin, so she hid it with her hand. “She is supposed to be looking after her granddaughter, who is being pursued by the younger Donwell son.”
“Let us hope her granddaughter and that younger son aren’t on their way to Gretna Green when she wakes up.”
They were close enough to the door that they could hear the announcement as each guest arrived. As Leorah and Felicity alternately talked and observed the people around them, Leorah heard the servant announce, “The Viscount Withinghall.”
She groaned, but she couldn’t help turning to see—and apparently Felicity couldn’t resist either. The tall viscount, with his solemn black clothing and grave expression, looked as if he were attending a funeral instead of a ball.
“Why does he have to attend balls and be amongst society?” Leorah wondered aloud. “He only frightens people with his cold, severe demeanor.”
“Sh, Leorah. He’ll hear you.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want that. He might come and rebuke me.”
“Leorah, sh!”
Leorah relented and lowered her voice. “It isn’t as if he came here to dance. Everyone knows he detests dancing, and frivolity is the bane of his existence.”
“Yes,” Felicity agreed, “but he is a viscount, and therefore he can do as he pleases, even when there aren’t enough dance partners.” They watched Lord Withinghall stride slowly through the crowded ballroom toward the host, Mr. Colthurst. “He is austere, but if he were to change the way he wears his hair, he would be quite handsome.”
“Oh, Felicity, how can you say so?” Leorah and Felicity were not the only people in the room who were watching the viscount as he stopped to speak with Mr. Colthurst.
“Don’t you think he’s at least somewhat well looking? He has stunning blue eyes. And even if the style of it is too Spartan, his hair is quite thick and dark.”
Leorah wouldn’t admit it even if she did think Lord Withinghall had nice features. His demeanor and aloof manners completely ruined the effect. She could still feel the sting of his remarks to her the last time she’d had the misfortune to encounter him, a fortnight prior. His censorious tone still rang in her ears, as he had reprimanded her for running through a maze and nearly colliding with an elder gentleman at a garden party. She had rebuked him in return for his reprimand of her, an unmarried lady unrelated to him. But he ignored her rebuke and made it quite clear that he objected to her lack of conformity and decorum.
He wasted his disapproval on her, for she cared not a whit.
“Shall we walk to the refreshments table for some lemonade?” Felicity asked. “I’m parched. We sat in our carriage for an hour before we were able to inch our way to Mr. Colthurst’s door.”
Leorah nodded, and they made their way through the crowd to the small sitting room where lemonade and other refreshments were being served.
“He is very tall and has a regal stance,” Felicity went on after sipping her lemonade. “No, Leorah, you cannot say he isn’t handsome. And besides, he is a viscount. That makes up for a lot of shortcomings.”
They stood near the doorway where it was less crowded, and less heated, than in the ballroom.
“If you force me to concede, I will say that he has very regular features.”
“Regular features? Is that all?” Felicity lowered her eyebrows and frowned.
“Yes, but his nose is too large.”
“Not overly. His skin tone is very good, neither sallow nor too tanned.”
“You are right. His skin shows good health.”
“And his teeth are perfect.”
“His teeth are good. I shall grant you that.”
“And his mouth and chin are strong.”
“True, and I despise a weak chin in a man. A weak mouth is insupportable.”
“Goodness, Leorah. I am glad no one can hear us.”
“We are entitled to speak our opinions as we please. The Prince Regent hasn’t passed any moratoriums on speaking one’s mind.”
Felicity continued with a gleeful smile. “There is one feature that has always stood out in Lord Withinghall’s already remarkable person.”
Leorah guessed what she was about to say. “His eyebrows.”
“Yes! They put me in mind of a pirate. His brows are very piratelike.”
Leorah couldn’t help laughing. “The way they point straight up in the middle. I imagine the viscount with an enormous hat, a giant feather curled over the crown, and a cutlass in his teeth.”
“Yes, indeed!” Felicity’s voice was rising as she became more excited. “And with a sword in his hand—”
“A white ruffled shirt with enormous cuffs—”
“Black top boots reaching nearly to his thigh—”
“And a thin black moustache!”
“Oh yes. Every pirate should have a thin black moustache.”
“Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat behind Leorah and Felicity, startling them into turning around.
Standing there was Mr. Colthurst and Lord Withinghall.
Mr. Colthurst’s cheeks were quite red as he cleared his throat again, a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. Lord Withinghall’s expression, glowering down upon them, was the very portrait of disapproval. But the image of him as a pirate still invaded Leorah’s mind, a picture of Lord Withinghall as he faced his enemy with sword drawn, a scowl curling his upper lip.
Felicity drew in a sharp breath and grabbed Leorah’s arm. Leorah faced the two men, holding on to Felicity’s elbow, fearing she might collapse under the weight of Lord Withinghall’s piratical scowl.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Colthurst said, “Lord Withinghall requests the pleasure of being introduced to Mr. Nicholas Langdon’s sister and her friend. Miss Leorah Langdon and Miss Felicity Mayson, allow me to present the Viscount Withinghall of Grimswood Castle.” Mr. Colthurst turned to Lord Withinghall. “Lord Withinghall, Miss Leorah Langdon and Miss Felicity Mayson.”