“Perhaps you could stay here at the party as a guest. You can be my spy. I shall arrange it with the Langdons, and they will be glad to have you here.”
“I would much rather you were home where your people can watch over you. These men are sinister—to tamper with a man’s carriage, killing your driver in the process. Please do not take the threat lightly.”
“You are quite right, Mr. Yarbrough.”
“If you will forgive me for being so bold, sir, I think you should tell your host about this and at least alert him to the danger.”
“I shall. Thank you.” And he would be sure and ask Nicholas Langdon to put his sister on her guard against Mr. Hastings. He shuddered to think of her falling prey to such a devious man, if indeed he was doing Pinegar’s evil bidding.
Edward only hoped all this spying and the threat of danger and people watching over him would not prevent him from proposing to Miss Norbury. A Prime Minister should have a wife, after all, and he might not ever be Prime Minister if he did not have one, and the right one, at that.
Leorah, Felicity, and Elizabeth found themselves having breakfast the next morning with Mr. Hastings, who came into the breakfast room just behind them.
“It appears to be a lovely autumn day,” he said, smiling that charming smile of his.
“Yes, it does,” Leorah agreed. “Should you like to go for a walk in the garden after we have breakfasted?”
“That sounds like an excellent plan, Miss Langdon.”
Half an hour later the ladies found themselves in the garden with Mr. Geoffrey Hastings, with Leorah wondering once again what Mr. Hastings’s fortune might be. But after her father seemed so set on her marrying Lord Withinghall . . . she did not want to be like her father. Why should she care about the man’s fortune?
If only theirs was a world where men and women were judged on their character, not their fortunes.
“This is a very lovely garden, Miss Langdon.” Mr. Hastings bent to inspect a stray rose that was blooming on a trellis along the path. “I can just imagine its beauty in the spring and summer months.”
“Thank you.”
“Every great estate has a garden, of course,” he went on, “but yours has an originality one seldom finds. There is creativity here, along with the unexpected. It rather reminds me . . .” He turned to look into Leorah’s eyes. “If you will forgive my impertinence, it reminds me of you, Miss Langdon.”
“Flattery is still flattery, Mr. Hastings,” Leorah said, “even when it is well done. You mustn’t play upon my vanity.”
“I do not think you vain, Miss Langdon. Besides, I do not consider truth to be flattery.”
Leorah laughed. “And now I shall change the subject of our conversation and ask after your family. Do you have brothers and sisters? A father and mother about whose health I might inquire?”
“I do indeed have two sisters and a brother, but my father has been dead these ten years. My mother and brother live in Shropshire, and my sisters are lately married, having wed two brothers, and reside in London. And as of two weeks ago, they were all in good health.”
“Ah, now we have much more interesting material for conversation than complimenting me. We have your two sisters, brother, and mother.”
“I shall do my best to entertain you, Miss Langdon, though my family is not terribly interesting. My father was the solicitor for Mr. Felton Pinegar and old Mr. Pinegar, his father before him, until my father’s death. My two sisters married attorneys in London, and my brother is destined for the church, through Mr. Pinegar’s patronage.”
So Mr. Hastings’s family was not wealthy. What was Mr. Hastings’s profession, or future profession? It was not polite to ask him.
After a short silence, Mr. Hastings said, “I have a notion to buy my commission in the army, but my mother has been loath to allow it, especially with the way things are at present between our country and France.”
“That is certainly understandable,” Leorah said. “She does not wish to lose you.”
Felicity and Elizabeth were gazing up at Mr. Hastings. Indeed, it was difficult not to stare at him. He had such an earnest expression on his face, such an amiable smile, to go along with his perfect features. His white neckcloth was tied in a fashionable style, and he wore a yellow waistcoat, brown jacket, and cream-colored breeches. He obviously had excellent taste, just as a young man of style should.
“Yes, she will be expecting me home again after I have enjoyed your family’s hospitality for the next fortnight.”
They spoke some more of the garden, the weather, and Mr. Hastings frequently brought Felicity and even timid Elizabeth into the conversation. He was everything gentlemanly, even showing concern for Elizabeth when she coughed.
“It is nothing,” she assured him.
“Perhaps we should go inside. I would not want you to get a chill.”
Felicity and Elizabeth were able to assure him that the day was warm enough, and their wraps would protect them from any breezes, so they continued their walk. He looked vaguely annoyed. Had he hoped Felicity and Elizabeth would go inside and leave them alone together? It would not be surprising for a young man such as him, with no fortune, to try to compromise a lady such as Leorah who was in possession of a fortune. But he was mistaken if he thought Leorah was so foolish as to allow such a thing.
Though Felicity would probably tell her she was thinking cynically again.
“The auspicious viscount is looking well for having been in such a dire carriage accident,” Mr. Hastings suddenly remarked. “And I have heard rumors that you were also in the same carriage accident, Miss Langdon, though I never put any confidence in gossip.”
“I’m afraid that much of the rumor is true.” Leorah was rather relieved at being able to explain the gossip to him. “I happened to be riding my horse near the road when he threw me. Lord Withinghall was driving by with his coachman and stopped to offer assistance. We were in the carriage when it overturned, and his poor coachman was killed.”
“Ghastly.” Mr. Hastings’s brow furrowed as he stopped and gave her his full attention.
“Quite. And Lord Withinghall’s leg was broken. I tried to catch the horses but without success. We were forced to wait for help in the overturned carriage as it began to rain. That is where Mr. Pinegar himself and our rector, Mr. Moss, found us. I’m sure you can imagine what the gossips would say about such a thing, but there was no impropriety at all, I assure you, with poor Lord Withinghall’s leg broken, and me with a broken wrist.”
“Yes, I had noticed you wore a splint on your wrist.”
“It does not pain me at all, but our family physician will not allow me to go without it, I’m afraid, not for a few more weeks.”