“And?”
“And that she is very grateful to him and to me.”
“Isn’t she curious why he came to fetch her?”
“She thinks I sent him.”
“Did he say you sent him? What did he say?”
“Oh, here. Read it for yourself.”
Felicity snatched it and started reading.
A sharp intake of breath.
A gasp.
“Yes!”
A giggle.
A sigh.
“Oh, Leorah, I knew it. He loves you! Of course he did all of it for you.”
Leorah’s heart fluttered, but she simply shrugged her shoulders. “It is mere speculation at this point.”
“How can you say so?”
“Very easily. He has not asked me again to marry him.”
A few minutes later, Leorah’s thoughts were still crowded with Lord Withinghall when Felicity’s mother came into the room holding a newspaper.
“You will never believe what they are saying in today’s paper.” Mrs. Mayson sat near Leorah and Felicity, snapping open the paper. “I do not think we should receive Lord Withinghall anymore, though he is a viscount.”
“What are you talking of, Mama?”
“Listen to this. ‘Lord Withinghall was absent from Parliament on Wednesday when he was seen in the company of a young woman and her small child, traveling from Kent to Suffolk, where he installed her at his home, Leeward House. One must wonder why a viscount and Cabinet Minister would have taken on the task of personally escorting a young unmarried woman and her illegitimate child and setting her up in his own country house at the expense of his duties in Parliament.”
“How dare they criticize Lord Withinghall!” Felicity’s face turned red, and her fists clenched.
“How can you defend him?” Mrs. Mayson dropped the paper to her lap. “He is ruining his reputation over a woman who has an illegitimate child—probably his child!”
“It is not his child, Mama. The woman is our friend, Rachel Becker. Lord Withinghall took her out of the terrible workhouse where the child’s father placed her to get rid of her and the child. And he only did it because . . .”
“Felicity.” Leorah grabbed her friend’s arm.
“Because he’s in love with Leorah.”
Leorah threw her hands up, then crossed her arms over her chest.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Mayson asked.
“The last time he called on us, Leorah had just received a letter from Rachel. She was distressed and explained the matter to Lord Withinghall. He immediately went to help her. It’s all in this letter Leorah just received.”
“Be that as it may . . .” Mrs. Mayson frowned. “It still looks very incriminating. I’m afraid no one will believe it is as chivalrous as that. Besides, what were any of you thinking to associate with such a woman, a kept mistress with a child?”
“I didn’t know you cared so much what society thinks, Mother.” Felicity stared at her.
“I care about my daughter and her friends.” Mrs. Mayson crossed her arms. “I suppose it was very kind of you to care about this poor woman. I am glad she is well.” Then Mrs. Mayson sighed heavily.
Leorah frowned. “Truly, this is very bad.”
“You too, Leorah?” Felicity stared.
“It is not that I care what society thinks. I am only thinking . . . this might endanger the bill Lord Withinghall is championing concerning children’s education.”
“Oh. But that’s so unfair.”
Mrs. Mayson shook her head. “No one cares if he has a courtesan or an illegitimate child. They only care if he is indiscreet enough to get caught with her.”
“But it is not Lord Withinghall’s child,” Felicity said.
“Are you sure?”
“Mama, of course I’m sure. Rachel never told us who the man was, but I’m sure it’s not Lord Withinghall.”
Of course it was not Lord Withinghall, but Leorah stayed silent while they discussed it. He must have known what the consequences would be for helping her friend. What a noble, perhaps foolish, thing to do.
How would she react when she saw him again? What would she say? How could she express her gratitude for what he had done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Edward had been too busy in the three days since he’d returned from Suffolk to call on Miss Langdon. In addition to his parliamentary duties, he’d been asked to give a statement on the incident at the political rally. The Crown wished to prosecute the man for the attempted murder of a peer of the realm and for threatening public safety, for which the man would hang. But after discussing the matter with the Crown prosecutor, Edward headed to the jail to find the constable.
“I have a desire to speak to the man.” Edward stood in the front vestibule of the building where the temporary inmates were held. “What did you say his name was?”
“Samuel Bellamy.”
“Will you allow me to meet with him and ask him some questions?”
“Of course, my lord.”
They arranged a time for the next morning. Edward arrived at the jail, and the jailer quickly led him to an office.
“Is this room all right for you, my lord?”
“Quite all right.”
“The constable was called away for a disturbance but should return any moment. May I bring you anything, my lord? Tea and biscuits?”
“No, I thank you. I shall wait here.”
He’d only been waiting a minute when he heard footsteps. The constable entered. They greeted each other, then the constable said, “So you are determined to speak with the man who tried to shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but the Crown will prosecute, and with so many witnesses, they’re certain to convict and hang him. You needn’t bother with it.”
“I wish to speak with him, nevertheless.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll fetch him.”
A few minutes later, the constable came in leading a man in leg irons and with shackles on his wrists. The man walked slowly, shuffling his feet, his head hanging low, his chin nearly touching his chest.
“What is your name?” Edward asked the man.
The man answered, “Samuel Bellamy.”
“Samuel Bellamy, who hired you to kill me?”
The man lifted his head and met Edward’s eye, then quickly looked down again.
“I beg your forgiveness, Lord Withinghall. I shall meet my end soon. ’Twould be more than I deserve, but I would like to do so with your forgiveness.”
The constable stood by with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Since no harm was done to me or anyone else, it is not very difficult to forgive you. I shall say a prayer that God will have mercy on your soul.”
“I thank you most kindly for that, my lord.”
“And now I’d like the answer to my question. Who hired you to shoot me?”
The man glanced up at Edward, then looked down again. “I suppose that would be something you’d be wanting to know.” The man lifted his hand to his face, causing the shackles to clank and clang. He rubbed his chin.
“I shall make it easy for you. It was Felton Pinegar, wasn’t it?”