“I did.”
“And will you agree not to entice him into asking you a second time to marry him?” Lord Matherly leaned forward on the edge of his seat.
“I am certain I have never been so insulted in my life.”
“There is no need for you to pretend—”
Leorah cut him off. “I am a gentleman’s daughter. Any man my father approves of as a husband will receive twenty thousand pounds. I have never enticed anyone in my twenty-two years. To be spoken to in this manner, even if it is by two earls and a baron, is highly offensive. Lord Withinghall is an honorable man, and our friendship is a very honorable one. I shall not agree to avoid Lord Withinghall at any social function to which I have been invited. If you wish to keep us from conversing with each other, you shall have to convince Lord Withinghall of such a necessity.”
With that, Leorah rose to her feet to indicate that the conversation was over. Her cheeks were burning, but otherwise it was as if ice flowed through her veins.
“You are not displaying the sort of prudence I had hoped for,” Lord Blakeney said, rising from his seat. “I am very sorry you do not see the wisdom in helping Lord Withinghall preserve his reputation and his place in Parliament. Perhaps we shall speak to your father.”
“Yes, you should speak to my father. I believe he arrived in London a few days ago.” Her father would brook no insolence from them. He, of course, still had his heart set on her marrying the viscount, if it could possibly be managed.
“We shall bid you both a good day then.”
The three men exited the room and were soon gone.
Felicity sank against the cushioned back of the couch and clutched at her neck. “Oh my goodness. I can hardly believe what just happened. Two earls and a baron! In my drawing room! But you, Leorah! You were magnificent.”
Leorah sank down beside her and rubbed her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been so angry in my life.”
“I was shaking and could hardly catch my breath, but you were so poised, and what you said . . . it was perfection.”
“Do you really think so? My mother would have fainted to hear what I said to them—to Lord Blakeney, an earl, no less.”
“I must say, I could barely keep my countenance at the surprise on their faces when you refused to do what they asked of you. But I do not blame you, Leorah. It was the right thing to say, I am quite sure. And poor Lord Withinghall! To have such friends as those.”
“But perhaps they were right, Felicity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps I should stay away from him so that people will forget what happened. It was more than enough to cause a scandal, after all, and Lord Withinghall despises scandal, especially after what happened to his father. Perhaps it would be the kindest thing I could do for him.”
“To shun him? No, Leorah. I do not think he would consider that to be kind.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“Of course I am. And you were perfectly correct in telling them that if they wish the viscount to avoid you, they should convince him, for I do not believe Lord Withinghall will do anything of the kind, and he will probably give them a good set down for even suggesting such a thing.”
“But if he does avoid me this Season, I will know that he truly is worried about his reputation and wishes to distance himself from me.”
Her heart sank at the thought. But why should she care? If Lord Withinghall did not value her friendship any more than that, then she was well rid of him. Let him rise to prominence and please his arrogant friends.
Truthfully, she did not think Lord Withinghall so unworthy as that. But she would have to wait and see. The social season would be underway soon, as Parliament was in session and the cold weather had let up. Lord Withinghall, of course, was already in London.
Leorah, Felicity, and Felicity’s aunt, Miss Agnes Appleby, rode in their carriage to visit their friends at the Children’s Aid Mission. Leorah was especially anxious to see how Rachel and her baby girl were doing, as she had only received one letter from Rachel since leaving London for Glyncove Abbey late last summer.
They arrived and were welcomed by Mr. John Wilson and his lovely wife, Sarah.
“Won’t you join us for tea?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
They all sat down, and Mr. Wilson began discussing with Leorah the state of the mission’s finances, as he often did when she came with Nicholas. All was well, thanks to their donors.
“Mr. Wilson, I have been wondering about Rachel and her baby. Are they well? She has not written to me lately.”
John Wilson glanced over at his wife. The look they exchanged made Leorah’s heart leap into her throat.
“What? What is the matter?”
Sarah leaned toward Leorah. She had everyone’s attention as she said, “I’m afraid Rachel has disappeared. No one knows what has become of her and her baby.”
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“She was evicted from her rooms on Bishopsgate Street, paid for by the man who . . . the father of her child, and she moved into the home for unwed mothers.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“Well, one evening a man came to the home and took her and the baby away with only one bag. Most of her belongings were left behind.”
“And she never came back to fetch them?”
John Wilson shook his head. “We kept them for her, thinking she would either come back for them or send for them, but we have not heard from her since.”
“And when was this?” Dread filled her chest.
“November.”
“Where could she be?” Leorah gripped her gloves, which she had taken off when they’d sat down. “Where could she have been all this time that she could not write to us?”
“She might be afraid to write to us,” Sarah said, a sad look in her eyes. “That man knew she was helping here at the mission. He may have threatened her if she should write to us. She was already afraid of anyone finding out who he was, as he had told her he would do something terrible to her and the baby if she told anyone. He may have threatened to do something to the mission.”
“But that means she is still in his power. I shudder to think of such an awful thing.”
“If only we could help her,” Felicity added.
“Yes,” Leorah said, “we must find her and help her.”
“I don’t know how we possibly can,” Mrs. Wilson said, “unless she contacts one of us. There is no way of knowing where she has gone.”
They all sat in silence, even Miss Appleby, who often prattled about nothing when she was nervous.
“Poor Rachel,” Felicity said and sighed.