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

“Yes, I was.” His voice was stern and carried easily through the room. No one said a word as all eyes swiveled to Lord Withinghall. She had never seen such complete cessation of conversation in a roomful of people at a dinner party. Every guest waited with bated breath, it seemed, for Lord Withinghall to say more.

“I had watched the doctor splint my own arm when I was a boy. My coachman and I found some sticks and wrapped Miss Langdon’s arm with the bandages I keep in my carriage. The feat was not extraordinary. We continued on our way, until the carriage broke apart and overturned. This unfortunate accident killed my coachman, who had served both my father and grandfather.” The look in his eyes seemed to dare anyone to contradict his word.

For several seconds, no one said anything. Even with a large splint on his leg, which was stretched out stiff in front of him, he was a formidable-looking man.

Mr. Pinegar’s hand twitched, then he coughed and turned back to smile his odd, pained grin at Leorah.

“We are very thankful to God,” Leorah’s mother said firmly, “that you, Lord Withinghall, and my dear Leorah were not killed in this unfortunate accident.”

Heads nodded, and there were a few murmurs of agreement.

Then, just as suddenly as the conversation in the room had stopped, it started again. The guests began talking in normal tones to their neighbors, and Miss Norbury continued to sit stoically beside Lord Withinghall as though nothing at all had happened.

Felicity appeared slightly stunned. Leorah longed to continue her whispered conversation with her friend, but Mr. Pinegar still lingered near them, oddly reluctant to leave, it seemed. Did the man have designs on her? He looked to be several years older than Lord Withinghall. Leorah would have had no trouble declining a marriage proposal from him.

Finally, Mr. Pinegar moved away, and Felicity whispered to Leorah, “Did you see how Lord Withinghall was looking at Mr. Pinegar? Like a pirate about to make him walk the plank to his doom.”

“Felicity, you make me laugh.”

Leorah glanced Lord Withinghall’s way. He was watching Mr. Pinegar walk away, and truth be told, he looked quite grim.



The following day, the rest of their guests arrived. One of Elizabeth Mayson’s friends had come, stealing her away, and so Leorah and Felicity stood companionably at the sitting room window, watching the newcomers alight from their carriages at the front entrance. A young man accompanied by a young lady were amongst them.

“He is very handsome,” Felicity said breathlessly. “Who is he?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I danced with him at a party in London last Season.” Leorah did her best to make out his face, but he didn’t look up.

Hearing someone else enter the room behind them, Leorah glanced over her shoulder. “Nicholas! Come here and tell us who that man is—there—just arriving.”

Nicholas peered over her shoulder. “That is Geoffrey Hastings.”

“What do you know of him?” Leorah asked more for Felicity’s sake than her own, although Leorah thought him handsome as well.

“I believe he intends to make the church his profession. I don’t know him very well, but Mr. Pinegar asked me to invite him. He is a distant relative of his, and he says he is very charming.”

The young man in question, Geoffrey Hastings, disappeared from view.

“Let us see if Miss Norbury will smile at him as I saw her do at a ball last Season.”

“That sounds accusatory. Have you never smiled at a man?”

“I know, I am being judgmental. Forgive me.” She frowned back at him. “I hope you don’t ever give that scolding look to Julia.”

“No, I keep that look in reserve for my rebellious younger sister,” he said. “And you should take care to be meek and likeable to everyone here, remembering that this party is an attempt to try to restore your damaged reputation.”

“Humph. I didn’t know it was salvageable. Why else would Lord Withinghall have taken the drastic step of asking me to marry him if it could be saved simply by being friendly at a house party?”

Her brother sighed loudly and looked up at the ceiling.

“But for the sake of Julia, the Children’s Aid Mission, and my future nieces and nephews, I shall endeavor to save what I can of my reputation.”

“If you truly mean that, you should not make any more speeches like you did last night, emphasizing the fact that you and Withinghall were alone . . . in the dark . . . for hours.”

“I could not resist it, Nicholas. Did you see the looks Augusta and her aunt were giving me? It was too tempting.”

“It was rather amusing,” Mother said, walking toward them. “But you should not do it anymore. You don’t know how cutting and cruel people can be to someone who has been shunned by society. Darling”—Mother patted her cheek—“I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“Of course, Mother. I shall try to be good.” Mother was so good herself, it was hard to live up to her goodness, but she made Leorah want to try.

And somehow, it was a bit easier to be good when Father wasn’t around. Other fathers might have come home immediately, hearing that their daughter had been in a carriage accident, hearing that their daughter’s reputation had been brought into question and a scandal was brewing. Other fathers might have cut their hunting trip short. But her father had not.

Father had always been deeply concerned in her brothers’ affairs, but he did not seem to concern himself with what happened to Leorah. He left her care entirely up to her mother. It was a pain in her heart that she never spoke of.

Perhaps that was why, when he was around, she seemed to be even more prone to saying things she knew others would not approve of, to do what she wanted, and not hold herself in check. A tightness clenched in her chest sometimes when he talked on and on with Jonathan and Nicholas but completely ignored her. The tightness became a boiling cauldron when he spoke patronizingly to her, as if she were too stupid to have an intelligent conversation. She had vowed years ago that she would never subject herself to a husband such as that.

“Never,” she whispered to herself. Never would she marry someone who barely even spoke to his wife and treated her like a mere acquaintance, the way he treated Mother. Never would Leorah enter into a cold, passionless marriage—a fate much worse than losing her reputation.



The next morning as Leorah started down the hall to see if her friends were ready for breakfast, she heard the rumble of a familiar voice coming from her father’s study.

He stepped out the door and raised his hand. “There you are, girl. Come here. I must speak with you.” Father’s bushy white eyebrows drew together.

A heaviness invaded her chest. She entered the room, and he closed the door behind her.

“What’s this I hear about your dalliance with Lord Withinghall?”

Leorah’s cheeks grew hot. “There was nothing of the sort. The carriage we were in overturned and—”

“It is all over London that you spent the night in his carriage on the road.”

“Your voice is so loud, every servant in the house and half the guests will hear you.”