He could be married in less than six weeks.
No one joined him where he stood, so he was able to let his thoughts flow to what he would need to do tomorrow—he was meeting with the sheriff, Mr. Yarbrough, to discuss what he had discovered from his inquiries about who might have tampered with his carriage.
There was Pinegar himself, skulking in the corner and watching Miss Langdon dance for the second time with Geoffrey Hastings. Who was this Mr. Hastings? Had Nicholas Langdon made sure to properly acquaint himself with the man before allowing his sister to dance with him? He smiled entirely too much, and why was he singling out Miss Langdon for the first two dances?
He turned his attention back to Miss Norbury, who had a slight frown on her face as she walked toward him. He did not want to give offense and vowed not to pay any more attention to Miss Langdon or her dance partners.
Mr. Geoffrey Hastings was undeniably a very good dancer, and his smile was infectious. The cleft in his chin gave him a rakish look, while his brown eyes were soft and warm. But there was something slightly less formal about him, as if he had not always associated with such elegant society.
After dancing the first two dances with him and promising to dance with him again later, Leorah rejoined Felicity where she stood near Leorah’s mother.
Felicity raised her brows at her. “The handsome Mr. Hastings is singling you out.”
“It would be helpful to know what was his income and situation in life, for he was being very flirtatious with me—like a man who wants my twenty thousand pounds.”
“Oh, Leorah, you are too cynical. He probably just thought you were beautiful and that he could easily fall in love with you.”
“You must agree that he does not know me well enough to have fallen in love.”
“Perhaps, but should you not leave yourself open to the possibility that he genuinely likes you?”
“Don’t sport with my vanity, Felicity.”
“You are incorrigible. But I refuse to let your cynicism dissuade me from having romantic thoughts about this. Let me imagine that he is enchanted with you, not your twenty thousand pounds.”
“Aren’t you the one who tried to persuade Julia that Mr. Hugh Edgerton was truly in love with her?”
“Oh, Leorah, that’s not fair. He seemed so very sincere. Besides, I only told her she should dance with him, not marry him. Have you noticed how Lord Withinghall is spending all his time with Miss Norbury?”
Leorah turned toward Felicity’s line of vision. Lord Withinghall and Miss Norbury were facing each other in an exclusive way. What were they saying? Was Miss Norbury as uninteresting when she talked to Lord Withinghall as she was when Leorah talked to her?
“I just don’t think they suit each other,” Felicity said quietly.
“Why not? They are both so serious and severe.” But Leorah’s stomach twisted at the thought of them getting married. Felicity was right. They did not suit. Augusta Norbury seemed cold and unfeeling, and Lord Withinghall . . . Hadn’t she always said Lord Withinghall was also cold and unfeeling?
“Do you ever feel a bit sorry you refused his offer of marriage?” Felicity whispered.
“No, I do not.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would. You have twenty thousand pounds.”
“You would not marry him, would you?”
“Well, I do not have twenty thousand, or even a thousand pounds.” She was silent a moment, twisting her head to the side as though thinking. “Truthfully, I would marry him, especially since he has begun dressing so much more fashionably.”
Leorah laughed. “You know you are in jest.”
Felicity gave a half frown. “Perhaps. But he is more appealing now than when we were in London, when he glowered so angrily at us for calling him a pirate.”
Leorah did not want to admit it, but he was more appealing. Though his new appeal had less to do with his newfound fashion sense than it did with her having a better understanding of the man himself.
“You would not marry someone you did not love, would you, Felicity?”
“Perhaps not, but it would be easy to convince myself I was in love if the man was a viscount and rich besides.”
“I cannot argue with that, since I can easily imagine you convincing yourself to be in love.”
Felicity glared.
“I am only teasing you. Forgive me.” Leorah did not know what it was like to be poor and without a dowry. She had never been in Felicity’s position and could not definitively say that she would not feel the same.
But Lord Withinghall, in spite of his asking Leorah to marry him, did not truly want to marry her. He preferred Miss Augusta Norbury, and Leorah should be happy for them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Edward hesitated outside the drawing room where Mrs. Culpepper sat talking with several of the other older ladies. At the ball the previous night, he had talked with Miss Norbury almost exclusively, making it clear what his intentions were. He fully intended to ask Miss Norbury’s guardian to allow him to speak to her privately this morning, as soon as she was dressed.
Now here she was. He started walking toward her, but his feet hesitated, then walked on past.
Never mind. He had plenty of time. Just now he was meeting with Mr. Yarbrough. Edward headed down the stairs and into the library to wait for him.
He did not have to wait long. Mr. Yarbrough entered and greeted him.
“You are early.” Edward motioned for him to sit down.
“You must be recovering well.” Yarbrough looked pointedly at his cane.
“I believe so. What have you found out for me?”
“Sir, you were right about Pinegar.” He spoke in a low voice. “The man was seen talking to a young gentlemanly looking man at the Red Hart Inn where you changed horses. You and Mr. Pugh had gone inside for several minutes. Mr. Pinegar left before you arrived, but the young gentleman was seen loitering about the stables and carriage house while your carriage was there. When the stable master asked him what his business was, he merely nodded, stuck some kind of tool in his saddlebag, mounted his horse, and left.”
“Who was this man? What did he look like?”
“He was described as having light-brown hair with a hint of red or auburn, and he was rather tall and well built, and exceptionally handsome.”
“That sounds very much like someone who is here now at Glyncove Abbey. A Mr. Geoffrey Hastings.” Could Hastings be doing Pinegar’s dirty work? “But we have no proof. Even if the stable master and others could identify him as the man who was milling about the stables, it would not prove he had tampered with the carriage.”
“You are right, of course. But if they are both here, you are not safe.” Yarbrough’s brow creased. “Perhaps you should go home.”
“Nonsense. What better way to catch them in their mischief.”
Mr. Yarbrough frowned.