Obviously he was not in the most agreeable mood. Would Felicity be brave enough to ask him if she might borrow his copy of Hannah More’s book?
They chatted about the weather and the condition of the roads, during which Lord Withinghall’s comments were clipped and barely civil. It made Leorah want to laugh at him and force him to see the humor in his situation. But she refrained, since Felicity and Elizabeth were both so in awe of him and frightened by his severe demeanor.
Suddenly, Felicity straightened her shoulders, sitting taller in her chair. “Is that book on your nightstand a copy of Miss Hannah More’s new book, Christian Morals?”
“It is.”
“May I look at it?”
He reached over and picked up the book, passing it to Leorah, who was closest to him. She in turn passed it to Felicity.
“How did you manage to obtain a copy, Lord Withinghall? I have been trying without success for weeks.” Felicity opened the book, her eyes quickly focusing on the first page.
He seemed disinclined to answer Felicity, especially since she wasn’t listening, but he mumbled, “Miss More gave it to me.”
“You must be missing your own home and servants, Lord Withinghall,” Leorah observed, trying to think of something to fill the silence, knowing Elizabeth was too nervous to speak and Felicity was lost in Christian Morals. “But I suppose you will be more comfortable now that your valet has arrived.” His hair, which looked much better without his valet’s attention, would probably go back to being flat and out of fashion now, but she refrained from mentioning that.
“My valet did arrive, but he tells me he has decided to leave my service and go live with his sister.”
“Oh. I suppose you will miss him very much. Has he been with your family a long time?”
“Since before I was born.”
Yes, and his ideas of clothing, hair, and cravat knots dated that far back as well. “Will you need any help finding a new valet?”
“I shall manage, thank you.”
Leorah searched her brain for a suitable topic of conversation. “Loyal servants are indeed a blessing.”
Lord Withinghall did not offer any reply, and they sat in silence. The silence reigned for so long Leorah’s mind began to wander to what amusements she might treat her guests to in the coming days. Perhaps the doctor would allow her to ride again, if she promised not to go faster than a trot.
Suddenly, Felicity closed the book in her lap and looked up, meeting Lord Withinghall’s eye. “I am so very devoted to Hannah More’s books and her evangelical spirit of encouragement. Would you, Lord Withinghall, graciously lend me your copy of Christian Morals for a short while—one day—to allow me to read it?”
He stared back at Felicity, who seemed to be holding her breath. Finally, Lord Withinghall said, “I shall be happy to lend it to someone with as much eagerness to read it as you have, Miss Mayson.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord. I promise I shall take the utmost care of your precious autographed copy and return it to you with due speed.” A smile lit up Felicity’s countenance, and she clasped the book to her chest with great fervency.
“You are welcome.”
Even Felicity’s zeal didn’t alter Lord Withinghall’s dour look. Again, Leorah had an irrational urge to laugh and tease the irritable viscount. Even if he made some ill-natured retort, at least he wouldn’t be lying there in depressed silence. But she decided against it. Her brother was already vexed with her for arguing with the viscount so much.
Soon they bid him good day and left his room, all of them sighing with relief at escaping his presence. Although Felicity felt the need to defend him and say, “He can’t be an unredeemable person if he loves Hannah More so much. And if she esteems him enough to write such a complimentary inscription and give him a copy of her new book, I shall have a greater respect than his title of ‘viscount’ alone warrants.”
It was rather curious that he enjoyed reading Hannah More’s books, but then, it made a kind of sense, due to the fact that she advocated righteous fervor and discouraged rebellion. It was such ideology that made Leorah squirm just a bit and no doubt made Lord Withinghall feel quite self-righteous.
“Felicity, what do you enjoy so much about Hannah More’s books?” Leorah wanted to understand.
“I suppose I enjoy the way she reproves the aristocrats and the gentry, the very people no one else has the courage to criticize, for their hypocrisy and lack of morality. She writes with such feeling, such heartfelt earnestness! I feel a kinship with her, just from reading her words. Even my mother said, ‘She makes me feel renewed.’”
Leorah could not argue with all those heartfelt, earnest, and otherwise pious sentiments, but she also could never feel completely comfortable with Miss Hannah More, knowing that her opinion of novels was that they “debase the taste, slacken the intellectual nerve, let down the understanding, set the fancy loose, and send it gadding among low and mean objects.”
A little disturbing to Leorah, who preferred a novel to any book of sermons, and even more baffling was that Miss More’s works on religious reform and morality outsold even the most successful novels.
Someday soon Leorah would not have to feel judged in her own house. Lord Withinghall would go back to his home, taking his autographed copies of Hannah More’s books with him, and Leorah could enjoy her novels again in peace.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Leorah, I know you won’t mind.”
Nicholas’s words made Leorah’s stomach sink. She had too many memories of him saying those very words to her just before he told her how he had promised a friend that she would dance with him, or that he had confessed to their mother about one of their pranks, or that he had told some young man she would rather avoid seeing that she was in town.
Leorah held her breath, then glared at him. “Nicholas Langdon, what have you done?”
Julia was standing beside him, her forehead creased—another bad sign.
“Before you get upset, recall what a great service Lord Withinghall did for you when he splinted your arm and graciously took you into his carriage.”
“Nicholas . . .”
“I am trying to save your reputation, actually.”
“What are you talking about?” Leorah felt the angry flush creeping into her cheeks.
Julia laid a hand on Nicholas’s arm and said calmly, “What Nicholas is trying to say is that we have invited Miss Augusta Norbury and her guardian, Mrs. Palladia Culpepper, to stay with us.”
“Augusta Norbury? Whatever for? She’s never liked me, and I’ve barely said ten words to her in all the years I’ve known her.” The superior Augusta Norbury would only spoil her time with her friend Felicity—who was sweet and cheerful and nothing like Augusta, who would no doubt turn her nose up at Felicity, the merchant’s daughter. Felicity and Elizabeth had only been there for one full day. It was horribly unfair.