“Good evening, Miss Langdon. I trust you are well.”
“Yes, very well. And are you well, Lord Withinghall?”
“I am.”
People were milling about them, quite close. No doubt they hoped to hear something to fuel their gossip. Still, she would not let them stop her from saying what she wanted to say.
“I want to thank you for all you did for my friend, Rachel Becker, and her daughter. It was so very kind and noble of you, in spite of the gossip it has caused. I am so very sorry for that.”
“Do not trouble yourself. I can weather a bit of gossip, I hope. And I hope you know, I thought of you . . . every moment.”
Had she heard him correctly? Her heart tripped over itself.
“I—” She had to stop speaking to swallow the lump in her throat. “I am very grateful to you.”
He made no move to leave her, so she said, “I am very glad you have discovered who has been trying to do you harm.”
“Yes, it seems I have found him out at last.”
“Do you know why he would want to harm you?”
“I still don’t know. He might be jealous of my position in Parliament, but with him in the House of Commons and me in the House of Lords, it makes little sense. But since the man is supposed to be here tonight, I intend to ask him.”
“Oh. Do you think that’s quite safe?”
Another crush of people entered the room, forcing Leorah and Lord Withinghall to move closer to the wall. There was so much noise now, no one seemed to be listening to them.
“What could be safer than a public assembly such as this, with many witnesses, and the papers saying that the man is trying to kill me? If anything were to happen to me, Mr. Pinegar would be quickly apprehended.”
“Well, that is comforting, I suppose.”
He was staring intently down at her. What was he thinking?
“Won’t you tell me all about your trip to Kent to rescue Rachel Becker and her child? Did you encounter any trouble?”
He proceeded to tell her, in mostly vague and general terms, about the workhouse and Rachel and Olivia’s condition. “She seemed very grateful,” he said. “There were tears, and she spoke in the warmest possible manner of your kindness and goodness, Miss Langdon. She also told me that the man who had placed her there was her former lover, Felton Pinegar, and he used his friend, Geoffrey Hastings, to assist him.”
“Oh my.” Leorah covered her mouth with her gloved hand. “What a vile, despicable man, both of them. And now that I think of it . . .” Her mind went back to the party at Glyncove Abbey several months before. “I overheard part of a conversation between Pinegar and Hastings. Pinegar said they were taking someone to a workhouse. I thought it was quite strange at the time. He must have meant Rachel. And then he said something about a rally in Surrey, and he asked Mr. Hastings if he had the gun. Now it is clear what he meant.”
“They must have been planning to have me killed then, since the broken carriage only killed my coachman.”
“It is strange that they decided later to try to kill you on your way to the Christmas Eve party.”
“Yes. They must have somehow heard about the party and decided it was a good opportunity,” he said in a wry tone.
“Did they think they would never be found out?” Leorah shook her head.
“I daresay they did think it. But I wish to speak of something else.” He took her hand in his and held it tightly. “Miss Langdon, I . . .”
The music for the first dance was just starting. He seemed to reluctantly lift his head and look toward the dance floor.
“May I claim the first dance?”
“You may.”
He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to the floor.
Leorah had never been so aware of her dance partner, every step Lord Withinghall took toward her, every look he gave her, every touch of his hand. They hardly spoke as his gaze never left her face.
When they finished the two dances, Lord Withinghall led her to where Felicity was standing.
“I saw Mr. Pinegar arrive. I believe I shall find him in the card room. Excuse me.”
Leorah wanted to grab his arm, to tell him it was too dangerous. She wanted to follow him and make sure nothing terrible happened. But he would want her to trust him. So she watched him go and said a prayer that God would keep him safe.
He disappeared into the room where some of the older couples were playing cards.
Leorah could not simply stand there and wait, so she slowly made her way through the crowd to the doorway of the card room. She leaned forward and peeked in to see what would transpire between Lord Withinghall and the man who wanted him dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Edward entered the room where several of the older men and women were playing cards. Felton Pinegar was standing with Geoffrey Hastings. They saw him approach, as did Lord Blakeney and Lord Matherly.
Edward’s two friends stood with their mouths open for three full seconds before lurching forward to intercept him.
Lord Blakeney put his body between him and Pinegar and Hastings. “Do you think it wise to confront them here?”
“Wise or not, it must be done. I will not be deterred.” He sidestepped them and went straight to Pinegar.
“Lord Withinghall,” Pinegar said, a wild glint in his eye, “the man who is trying to ruin me.”
“Mr. Pinegar, the man who is trying to kill me.”
Pinegar laughed, an ugly sound, and when he stopped, every person in the room had fallen silent and was staring at them.
For good or ill, they would have an audience.
“Do you deny that you hired a man to shoot me at the political rally a week ago?”
“Of course I deny it,” Pinegar said.
“The man who shot at me is willing and able to identify you and Mr. Hastings as the two men who hired him.”
Pinegar guffawed, but there was a panicked look in his eyes. “Of course he is. The low-class blighter will say whatever you tell him.”
“And do you deny that you had Hastings saw through the splinter bar on my carriage six months ago so that it would break apart, an act which ultimately killed my coachman?”
A murmur went through the crowd of men.
“How dare you accuse me?” Pinegar drew himself up like a proud rooster, sticking out his chest, while Hastings stood stoical and silent beside him. “Do you deny that it was your father who insinuated himself into the life of a young married woman, Lady Whitestone? Her husband, the Earl of Whitestone, called your father out and mortally wounded him in a duel. Isn’t that correct?”
“I believe those are all the correct names.” Edward kept his expression as bland as possible.
“That young lady whose life your father ruined was my sister.” Pinegar’s face contorted as he sneered a poisonous look of contempt.
Edward was hard-pressed to keep his surprise from showing. He’d had no idea the woman was Pinegar’s sister.