“I was eleven years at the time,” Edward said, “so I never expressed my condolences, Pinegar, so allow me to say how sorry I am—”
“That your father was the cause of her death? That lady—Harriet Pinegar, as she once was—threw herself in the Thames and drowned after what your father did to her. You don’t deserve to live either. How dare you make it your goal to become Prime Minister? The name of Withinghall is not fit to be remembered in anything except dishonor! You deserve to die as shameful a death as your father.”
The room was completely silent. Meanwhile, the dark door in Edward’s mind—the one that closed off the feelings of an eleven-year-old boy who had come face-to-face with the loss of a beloved father because of his shameful actions, a boy who had seen his mother sink into despair and grief—threatened to swing wide open. No. He could not allow himself to feel that again. Not now.
“See here, Pinegar.” Colthurst, the host of the ball, stepped forward. “A man is not responsible for the sins of his father.”
“He’s a hypocrite! He sponsors bills to educate the little brats of the lowest of the low, and yet he cared not that my sister’s own child had to grow up without a mother.”
Geoffrey Hastings took a step away from Pinegar, his gaze flitting across the room toward the exit.
“Lord Withinghall’s father must answer for that, Pinegar. It makes no sense to blame Edward,” Lord Blakeney said quietly.
“He is a hypocrite, I tell you! He has been trying to sabotage my votes, and he took my mistress and child. Yes, that’s right. The man who claims to be so pious and upright was caught alone at night with a young woman, and now he has my child—my child—at his home this very minute, in Suffolk.” Pinegar pointed a finger at himself, vigorously stabbing his own chest.
“I hope you will do right by the child, then,” Blakeney said. Then he turned to him. “Edward, did you take this man’s courtesan and his child?”
A snicker and a few murmurs spread through the room at what Pinegar was admitting.
“I took the young woman and her child from a workhouse where they had been left to die. The child was ill. The mother is an acquaintance of Miss Langdon through the Children’s Aid Mission, and Miss Langdon was concerned about them, having heard the child was near death. I wanted to save them for Miss Langdon’s sake, as I am in love with her.” He said those last words more softly than the others.
Pinegar’s face turned even redder, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides. The room was alive with murmuring, and a few loud whispers came from the doorway. He turned to see a crowd of ladies and gentlemen at the open door, with Miss Langdon at the front, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide.
At least Miss Langdon would not despise him because of Pinegar’s accusations and the way he had made a scene at such a large gathering. Leorah was not easily scandalized.
Pinegar suddenly lunged at Edward, his hands reaching toward his neck. Ladies screamed. Blakeney and Matherly jumped in between them, grappling with the little man, whose arms were flailing about. A few other men stepped forward and helped to restrain Pinegar.
“The name of Withinghall is tainted and stained with innocent blood!” Pinegar yelled. “You don’t deserve to be Prime Minister! I have friends! They won’t let you win, Withinghall. You will fail.” He struggled against those holding him. “Let me go.”
“And what of Hastings’s role in this?” someone said. A few men drew closer to Mr. Hastings, who had begun inching toward the door.
“I only did what Pinegar told me to.” He held up his hands. “He tried to get me to compromise Miss Langdon so Lord Withinghall would call me out for a duel, but I am not that kind of man. I—”
“Shut up, you idiot,” Pinegar growled.
“Did you tamper with Lord Withinghall’s carriage?” Lord Blakeney demanded.
Hastings glanced around, then suddenly bolted for the door. A few people yelled “Stop!” but he slipped through it and was gone before he could be detained.
The men escorted Pinegar out of the room, with him still yelling threats and protests.
“I shall go with them and make sure he is locked away by the constable,” Lord Crenshaw said, then followed them out.
Edward’s eyes met Leorah Langdon’s just before Lord Blakeney, Lord Matherly, and several other men crowded around him, talking and asking him questions.
Leorah watched until the men closed around Lord Withinghall and hid him completely from view. Had she heard him say he was in love with her?
Everyone all around was talking about what had happened inside.
Felicity touched her arm. “What was Mr. Pinegar saying in there?”
“Did you not hear?”
She shook her head. “I heard some yelling while I was dancing, then saw some men taking him out.”
“He practically admitted that he tried to kill Lord Withinghall.” She told Felicity what she could remember, how Pinegar had even admitted that Rachel’s child belonged to him. “Apparently he hated Lord Withinghall because of what his father did.”
“His father?”
They could barely hear each other over the other voices in the room. “I will tell you all about it in the carriage.”
Hardly anyone danced the next dance. Everyone was too busy gossiping about what had transpired in the card room. Leorah wanted to discuss it with Felicity, but she did not want anyone to overhear her, as people seemed suddenly quite curious about her, sneaking glances her way or standing near her any time she spoke to Felicity or one of her other friends.
Would Lord Withinghall come out and join the rest of the party? Just the thought of him seeking her out made her stomach do a somersault. But it seemed unlikely that he would be allowed a moment’s peace for the rest of the night. The last time she peeked into the card room, several men were still clustered around him. Were they encouraging him to prosecute Mr. Pinegar? Were they questioning Pinegar’s sanity? Whether he was a danger to society? And what about Mr. Hastings? Would he be brought to answer for his role in damaging Lord Withinghall’s carriage?
But the ball was continuing. Ladies were dancing with young men, and the musicians were playing as skillfully as ever. Felicity had already stood up with more than one partner. Leorah finally wandered closer to the dance floor.
One matron bumped Leorah’s elbow and said, “I heard what Lord Withinghall said.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know what I mean.” The elderly lady smirked. Her name was Mrs. Hatton, or Hathaway, or something like that.
“I am not sure I do.”
“He said he was in love with Miss Langdon. That is you, is it not?”
“You have very good hearing, Mrs. . . .”
“Herringshaw. Mrs. Phineas Herringshaw. And I pride myself I do. I hope you will remember me when you are Lady Withinghall.” She winked.
Leorah quickly excused herself and moved to Felicity’s side. “I wish this night could be over.”
“What is wrong? All is well, is it not?”