A Viscount's Proposal (The Regency Spies of London #2)

Again he felt that strange pull in his chest at the way she was looking at him, with such confidence and defiance from finely shaped eyes that smoldered with anger and conviction.

He wasn’t sure what made him pursue this contentious conversation, but he said, “So you only object to what you consider ‘arbitrary rules’ that restrict you because of your sex?”

She seemed to be considering his question. “I object to those rules, yes.”

“And you object to being called a hoyden, even though you said yourself that you are boisterous and carefree?”

She stared away from him, at the wall behind him. When she spoke again, her voice was breathy. “I object to being subjected to your disapproval.”

Now he was speechless. What did she mean, exactly? Did she care so much about his opinion of her? And why did he suddenly wish Nicholas would leave the room so he could ask her? The truth was, the emotion that had risen inside him was closer to admiration than disapproval.

Nonsense. Was he becoming foolish over this girl who herself admitted she was a hoyden? The laudanum must still be affecting his thinking.

“I object,” she said, her voice rising with her chin, “to the way you seem to think that women should have fewer rights of freedom than men. I am not an immoral woman, and yet you judge me and disapprove of me. I object to that attitude of yours, sir, that causes you to think the way you do.”

“Do you not admit that recklessness in general can cause a susceptibility to immorality?”

“Recklessness in what form? Recklessness in the manner in which I might run after my bonnet after the wind has blown it from my head? Recklessness in the manner in which I ride my horse? No, I certainly do not believe that the reckless manner in which I choose to ride my horse, which is faster than some would say is compatible with society’s rules, makes me in any way susceptible to immorality. The very idea is ridiculous.”

Was it ridiculous? It seemed ridiculous, the way she presented it. Heat rose inside him. He had to put a stop to this conversation. She was making him question himself when he was being perfectly reasonable. She was the one who was reckless and unreasonable.

“What is ridiculous is the way you flout society’s rules for no good reason.” His voice sounded hard and unrelenting. “It’s outright rebellion, and rebellion is and always has been a sin.”

“Is it a sin to rebel against something that makes no sense, a man-made rule that serves no good purpose?”

“Who is to say that it serves no good purpose?” Her reasoning was sound, a voice inside him said. But he still wasn’t willing to concede.

With her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed, and her posture lively, he was reminded of the way she had looked two days ago after she had been thrown from her horse, with her thick brown hair streaming over her shoulders and down her back. He shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she was.

She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. “Jesus rebuked those religious leaders of his day who esteemed man-made traditions over God’s own law. I suppose my opinion is not as good as Hannah More’s, but even you cannot argue with Jesus. I consider myself an intelligent and morally upright person, and God’s Spirit has not impressed upon me, up to this moment, the importance of riding my horse slowly, nor of letting the wind take my bonnet wherever it chooses without running after it.”

Nicholas coughed behind his hand, then said, “Shall we call this fight a draw?”

Edward recovered his breath sufficiently to say, “’Tis no fight. Only a discussion. And Miss Langdon makes many fine points, one being the necessity of listening to God’s voice when we decide to rebel against the rules of polite society.” Could he help it if a hint of irony entered his tone when he said the words? It was rather amusing that Leorah Langdon considered herself wise enough to rebel against society’s rules, and yet . . . “I would have to agree that it is foolish to blindly follow man-made rules of conduct. You would have made quite a good orator, Miss Langdon, good enough to capture the attention of your fellow Members of Parliament.”

The phrase “if you had been a man” hung in the air as Leorah stared back at him, studying him through narrowed eyes. She said coolly, “I shall interpret that as a compliment.”

“As it was meant to be.”

She stood up. “I must take my leave of you now, Lord Withinghall, and allow you to enjoy my brother’s company undisturbed.”

“As you wish.”

Edward watched her go and told himself he did not feel unsettled or in any way affected by her.

When had he started lying to himself?





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Leorah and Julia gratefully welcomed their friend Felicity Mayson from London as she arrived on the fourth day of Lord Withinghall’s stay. Even confined as he was to his bed, the viscount’s presence was like a dark cloud in the house, hanging over Leorah and reminding her of how unsettled she was around him. The exhilaration she had felt at being once again in the country, riding Buccaneer and feeling so free from the confines of London and its oppressive rules, had all disappeared. True, that was not all Lord Withinghall’s fault. Her broken wrist kept her from riding, but it gave her a perverse satisfaction to blame him.

Felicity and her fifteen-year-old sister, Elizabeth Mayson, would help Leorah be cool and polite and do her duty by accompanying her as she paid occasional, short visits to Lord Withinghall.

The day of their arrival, the ladies sat taking tea in the sitting room.

“I already dislike myself a bit for asking,” Leorah said, “but have you heard any gossip about myself and Lord Withinghall?”

Felicity pressed her lips together for a moment. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“Our maid, Millie, said she heard that you and the viscount spent the night together in a wrecked carriage.”

Leorah groaned. “How did the news reach London so quickly?”

Felicity cringed. “Should I not have told you?”

“I need to know what people are saying, I suppose.”

“What are your brother and mother and father saying?”

“Father is away, hunting in the south, but Mother and Nicholas have not said very much. I am still hoping it will all die down and not too much will be made of it. I told you the whole story, Felicity. But I know it will sound scandalous to all the gossipy society matrons who think they should have the right to destroy a person’s life.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I told Millie if she repeated that evil gossip, I would have her sacked before she could blink.”

“I wish we could count on her being the only one repeating it. But you know I never care what anyone says about me. I laugh in the face of gossip.” But they also both knew that gossip about Leorah could hurt more than just herself. “Let us talk of something else.”

“Can you believe I still have not been able to buy a copy of Hannah More’s new book?” Felicity lamented, carefully balancing her teacup. “Whenever I hear there has been a new printing, I go down to the bookshop, but it has sold out before I can get there.”