It seemed to take forever to get to Glyncove Abbey. What would have taken Leorah only about fifteen minutes on horseback in the daylight took them an hour under their present circumstances.
Once they got there, there was such a chaotic shouting of questions and confusion. Lord Withinghall was carried to one of the guest bedchambers, and Leorah heard his gruff, forceful voice more than once, growling out orders.
It was very late before Leorah was able to speak to the stable master about sending someone out to fetch Buccaneer home. Leorah explained that Buccaneer was alone at the edge of the woods, but it was impossible to explain exactly where. It was decided that they would go fetch him at first light.
Leorah’s mother forced her to sit for the surgeon and allow him to take off the splint Lord Withinghall had put on—and here she had to explain again for Nicholas and Julia all about breaking her arm and Lord Withinghall’s service to her—and so Leorah watched as the surgeon bared her wrist, carefully looking and gently pressing, deciding the bone was where it needed to be, and then he put on a new splint.
Finally, Leorah was allowed to go to her bedchamber. Julia accompanied her as she climbed the stairs, surprised that it was still dark outside; it had been such a long day and night.
Julia whispered to her, “Do you mean that you were with Lord Withinghall all this time? Were you alone with him after dark?”
“Yes, after the poor coachman was killed.” She waited for Julia to say more, but when she didn’t, Leorah asked, “Do you not think that the gossip will die down after some time has passed?”
Julia frowned. “I’m afraid it may take quite some time. But don’t worry. Everything always looks brighter in the light of day.”
But Leorah could hear the worry in Julia’s voice and could see it in the way she was biting her lip. This kind of scandal could ruin much more than just Leorah’s position in society. If her reputation were tainted, it could hurt her brother and sister-in-law as well as their charity work.
Let it not be so.
The next morning Leorah awoke earlier than she had anticipated after her late night and discovered that the grooms had already recovered her horse, who was back safe in his stall, and had been given a new shoe, brushed, dried, and fed—though he was a little more restless and irritable than usual.
Next she inquired after their unanticipated guest, Lord Withinghall. Leorah’s own maid, Becky, said that the surgeon had declared that he must not move at all but stay in bed for at least a week, and after that he must either be carried or use a wheeled chair for another four weeks. After that it would be another two weeks before he could put any weight on his broken leg. If he didn’t follow those instructions, it was very likely he would forever have a limp and be forced to use a walking stick.
Lord Withinghall had refused to voice his agreement with the instructions and had immediately sent word to his own physician and surgeon to come at once to give their opinions. The viscount had growled at Tess, one of the maids, and made her cry, for which the other servants had teased her.
“He is an angry bear of a man,” Leorah said, “and I’m sure Tess isn’t the first person from whom he has evoked tears.”
Becky smiled and seemed hopeful Leorah would tell her more about the sullen viscount. But one glance down at her splinted arm reminded her that Lord Withinghall had acquitted himself well the day before, on the whole, showing great courage, generosity, and even compassion toward her—which was difficult to assimilate with how much animosity had existed between them.
Leorah dressed quickly with Becky’s help, being careful of her wrist, surprised that she hardly felt any pain in it, and hurried down to breakfast. After a hearty plate of her favorite breakfast foods, she wandered outside and headed for the rose garden.
The bushes were mostly bare, but one had a few stray roses. Leorah picked a dark-pink one and held it against her cheek. The soft coolness of the petals against her skin made her close her eyes and sigh. How good it was to feel safe and to know her mother, brother, and sister-in-law were inside the house just behind her, relieved to have her home, her mother and Julia even crying a few tears of joy when they’d hugged her. They would never force her to marry Lord Withinghall simply out of fear of a ruined reputation.
But would she be harming them if she did not marry him?
To think of becoming Lord Withinghall’s wife . . . to endure his glowering looks, his irritation and control, his opinions of what a proper wife should do and be and think . . . He’d probably force her to read Hannah More’s treatises on proper religion and morality and forbid any sort of fiction reading.
She pressed the flower against her lips, breathing in its soothing scent and exhaling all her fear. “Lord, help the woman, whoever she turns out to be.”
Edward lay propped in bed, a book lying open in his lap. Miss Hannah More’s writings and exhortations to the aristocratic class of Britons to have a right heart before God had never failed to inspire and cheer him before. Her latest book, titled Christian Morals, was the new sensation, and he had been hard pressed to get a copy before leaving London, as the first printing had sold out immediately. But Miss More herself had sent him a copy with her own handwritten inscription to him in the front. And yet, in his present state of mind, even his favorite of Miss More’s works, Thoughts on the Importance of the Manners of the Great to General Society, had failed to hold his interest for more than a few minutes.
It was all too irritating that both his doctor and his surgeon had echoed the Langdons’ surgeon, Mr. Quimby, whose advice was to stay in bed with as little movement as possible for at least a week and then to stay off his leg for several weeks after that to ensure the best chance of the bone healing properly. It was downright humiliating to be so confined, a veritable invalid, and unable to travel to his own home, though Grimswood Castle was only fifteen miles away!
But there was nothing he could do about a broken bone. He must be patient and spend his time the best he could, even though he was stuck in a house with reckless Leorah Langdon, whose very presence in his overturned carriage invited scandal and threatened both their reputations. He could only pray that nothing came of it, and that the gossip would never reach London.
A knock came at the door. “Come in.”
Nicholas Langdon entered the room. “Good morning, Lord Withinghall.”
“Langdon. I would like to thank you for hosting me and my injured leg. Please sit down and keep me company, if you will.”
“I am at your service.” Nicholas Langdon drew up a chair. “I hope everything is to your satisfaction.”
“Of course. I am afraid I’ll be trespassing upon your hospitality for a few more days, as the physicians seem to think I’ll be crippled if I’m not expressly treated like an invalid for some weeks to come.”