“No doubt,” Nicholas agreed grimly. “He has such a horror of scandal.”
“Why?” Julia asked. “Because he is a statesman and a public figure? He probably doesn’t want to jeopardize his political career.”
“Partially, though it stems mostly from what happened with his father when he was only a boy.”
Nicholas didn’t continue. Leorah and Julia both looked up from their knitting and stared at him until he lowered his newspaper.
“What happened to him when he was a boy?” Julia asked.
“I don’t remember all the particulars. I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to remember.”
“Nicholas Langdon, tell us what you know,” Julia demanded in her soft voice, while Leorah kept her scowl of annoyance directed down at her lap where Nicholas couldn’t see and be encouraged to tease her further. “You’ve piqued our interest, and it’s unfair not to satisfy our curiosity.”
“His father was embroiled in more than one scandal, one of them involving a young married woman. Withinghall’s father was a Cabinet Minister, and he was poised to rise to the position of Prime Minister and First Lord of the Treasury, but he had a mistress who was a notorious courtesan, and she testified against him in Parliament. I don’t remember exactly what it was about. Something about bribes in exchange for votes on a bill, I think. And then, a year or two later, he had a dalliance with a married woman, which resulted in that woman throwing herself into the Thames and drowning. Her husband challenged Withinghall’s father to a duel, and he shot and killed the viscount.”
“Oh my! How terrible for his wife and son.” Julia’s brows were drawn together in a look of sorrow.
“Yes. Withinghall’s mother died soon after, and poor Withinghall was left quite alone, a viscount at the age of fourteen.”
It was indeed sad. But had the present Lord Withinghall succumbed to the same weakness as his father?
“Surely our Lord Withinghall would not dally with this woman who accuses him?” Julia gazed intently at her husband.
“No, I cannot believe it of him, especially since the facts seem to point toward his innocence. We know he isn’t giving his Cabinet stipend to courtesans; he’s giving it to the Children’s Aid Mission. Besides, I know Withinghall, and he vigorously avoids scandal of every sort. He has a deep dislike for anyone who commits adultery and often quotes Hannah More’s writings on the subject of the aristocracy’s base lack of morality. As a matter of fact, he’s quite famous for an incident in which he passed to the other side of the street rather than engage in conversation with the Duke of York and his courtesan, the infamous Mary Clarke, a few years ago.”
Leorah glanced up at her brother, who looked quite thoughtful, his paper lying in his lap.
“It seems to me that men either become very much like their fathers, or the exact opposite of them.”
It was interesting that Nicholas should say that, for he himself was the opposite of their cold, distant father. Was Lord Withinghall the exact opposite of his father, who had died in the throes of scandal and his own folly? After all, she couldn’t imagine Lord Withinghall exhibiting love or passion for a woman, nor could she see him having not one but two illicit paramours.
She could almost feel sorry for Lord Withinghall. Still, he was rude and insufferable, and he dressed in the manner of an undertaker. The fact that his eyebrows made her think of a pirate was the only interesting thing about him.
“Probably Lord Withinghall’s enemies are trying to make trouble for him,” Nicholas said, raising the newspaper again, “accusing him of what his father had been guilty of.”
“Does he have enemies?” Julia looked up at her husband.
Nicholas gave a tiny shrug. “Withinghall has aspirations of becoming Prime Minister and has been pushing the Tory agenda in Parliament since he was quite young. He was the youngest-ever Under-Secretary of State before becoming a Junior Lord of the Treasury. I would imagine there are quite a few Whigs who would like to bring him down, not to mention Tory colleagues who are jealous of his political success.”
“Then it must be the work of one of his enemies, planting that absurd story in the newspaper.” Julia looked as though she would like to wring the necks of such unscrupulous people for hurting the man who gave his salary to her favorite charity.
“The best thing for Withinghall to do is to get married,” Nicholas declared. Leorah glanced up to find her brother eyeing her. “Leorah, you had best stay out of his way, lest he choose you for his bride.”
Leorah snorted before she could stop herself. “I am the very last woman he would ever marry. And he is certainly the last man to interest me. Can you imagine me married to him? He’d probably force me to stop riding, stop smiling, and laughing would be strictly forbidden. Would he want me to dress all in black as he does, do you think?”
Julia half smiled, half frowned.
“Don’t protest overmuch, dear sister.” Nicholas seemed to be suppressing a grin. “Or else one might think you actually do have an interest in the man.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Leorah tried to concentrate once more on her knitting. “That would be the day,” Leorah mumbled to herself. To marry such a man! It was a fate worse than death and certainly worse than spinsterhood, which Leorah would sooner resign herself to than marry someone who would force her to conform to society’s idea of the perfect lady, a proper wife of a prominent Member of Parliament. She’d never feel free again, and she’d be trapped in that sort of cold, loveless marriage that was so common amongst the upper classes.
Only the most passionate, forthright kind of love would ever induce her to enter the confining state of matrimony.
CHAPTER THREE
Leorah was half afraid the papers, in the next few days, would print a caricature of the Viscount Withinghall wearing pirate’s clothing and saying, “Arr! After we scuttle a few ships we’ll be off to ravish some fair maidens before Parliament’s back in session.” But after finding nothing of the kind, she sighed with relief. Their blunder in getting caught comparing Lord Withinghall to a pirate had gone unreported.
What she did find was a retraction of the earlier accusation by the woman who had claimed Lord Withinghall had not paid her an agreed-upon sum for her favors. No explanation was offered, just a retraction of her statement.
Soon Nicholas and Julia came down the stairs dressed and ready to accompany her to the Children’s Aid Mission. Leorah was waiting with the blanket she had just finished knitting.
At the redbrick building near Bishopsgate Street, they entered to the sound of children laughing and playing in the courtyard at the back of the building.
“Good morning, Rachel.” Leorah greeted the young woman who met them in the doorway holding a baby in one arm and a basket in the other.
“Good morning, Miss Langdon. I was just taking this basket of bread to the kitchen.”