A Viscount's Proposal

by Melanie Dickerson

  Felicity and her fifteen-year-old sister, Elizabeth Mayson, would help Leorah be cool and polite and do her duty by accompanying her as she paid occasional, short visits to Lord Withinghall.

  The day of their arrival, the ladies sat taking tea in the sitting room.

  “I already dislike myself a bit for asking,” Leorah said, “but have you heard any gossip about myself and Lord Withinghall?”

  Felicity pressed her lips together for a moment. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Our maid, Millie, said she heard that you and the viscount spent the night together in a wrecked carriage.”

  Leorah groaned. “How did the news reach London so quickly?”

  Felicity cringed. “Should I not have told you?”

  “I need to know what people are saying, I suppose.”

  “What are your brother and mother and father saying?”

  “Father is away, hunting in the south, but Mother and Nicholas have not said very much. I am still hoping it will all die down and not too much will be made of it. I told you the whole story, Felicity. But I know it will sound scandalous to all the gossipy society matrons who think they should have the right to destroy a person’s life.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I told Millie if she repeated that evil gossip, I would have her sacked before she could blink.”

  “I wish we could count on her being the only one repeating it. But you know I never care what anyone says about me. I laugh in the face of gossip.” But they also both knew that gossip about Leorah could hurt more than just herself. “Let us talk of something else.”

  “Can you believe I still have not been able to buy a copy of Hannah More’s new book?” Felicity lamented, carefully balancing her teacup. “Whenever I hear there has been a new printing, I go down to the bookshop, but it has sold out before I can get there.”

  “I know someone who has a copy.” Leorah set her cup down.

  “Who? You?”

  “No. The Viscount Withinghall.”

  Felicity stared with her mouth open, inhaling audibly. “Does he have it with him?”

  “He does, but I don’t know if he will be willing to part with it.”

  “Has he finished reading it?”

  “I believe he is rereading it. I should ask him what he thinks of Miss More’s position on female education. I believe he considers her a kindred spirit, that they two are upholding the faith of the nation with their bare hands.”

  “Leorah, you should not make jests about Hannah More. Or a viscount, for that matter.” Felicity was smiling anyway. “I would think we had both learned our lesson after the pirate incident.”

  “Imagine,” Elizabeth Mayson said in an awed voice, “to be an actual acquaintance of Miss Hannah More.”

  Leorah had met her at a political rally some months before but refrained from saying so.

  “Perhaps I could convince Lord Withinghall to allow me to borrow his copy of Miss More’s Christian Morals if I promise to read it and return it the same day.” Felicity clutched her cup so tightly, Leorah feared she would break it and cut her hand.

  “Perhaps.” Leorah had known she would have to go visit Lord Withinghall again, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

  “Hannah More has the most exciting ideas, and she expresses herself so well. She has such a biting opinion of the aristocracy and the ton.” Felicity became especially animated as she spoke. “But they read her books as avidly as anyone.”

  “I have not read any of her books all the way to the end,” Julia said. “I need a plot to keep me interested.”

  Felicity’s eyes went wide. “Julia, truly? I can hardly believe it. I shall let you borrow a copy of her Practical Piety immediately. I simply love the passionate way she talks about God and about his love for us and our responsibility to live for him. Everyone is so preoccupied with their own dignity and importance that no one ever speaks of spiritual matters the way she does. It is so refreshing!” Felicity’s hazel eyes glowed with enthusiasm as she suddenly seemed to notice the cup in her hand and set it down noisily. “If all the clergymen in England spoke the way Hannah More writes, our entire country would be galvanized into an evangelical revival in a matter of weeks!”

  Leorah hid a smile behind her hand. Even though both Lord Withinghall and Felicity were great supporters of Hannah More and her ideas, Lord Withinghall was all humorless advocacy while Felicity was passionate enthusiasm. Leorah believed in Miss More’s ideology as well, but Withinghall’s dogmatic arrogance made her wish she could disagree, while Felicity’s passion made her feel guilty that she didn’t feel the same way about spreading God’s righteous word to the masses.

  “Tell me more about her ideas on female education.”

  Felicity’s smile lit up her sweet face. “She is very passionate about female education. She says in this day and age, when new trades are proliferating, women need to know just as much as their husbands so that they can help run their businesses. Instead, their typical education includes silly, superficial subjects such as drawing, acting, playing music, and speaking foreign languages. Though there is nothing wrong with learning a foreign language, the purpose should be to speak it, not to simply engage in a frenzy of accomplishments meant to attract a husband and impress others. Women are just as capable of rigorous, useful learning as men.”

  Leorah observed Felicity as she continued to tell Julia about the evangelical writer.

  Felicity’s cute, upturned nose; slightly pointed chin; perfect, curly, strawberry-blond hair; lovely smile; and small stature all combined to give her a rather pixieish air. But there was no denying that within that small frame resided a very big heart and passionate nature to rival any Leorah had known.

  Nicholas entered the room and expressed the usual pleasantries.

  “I’m afraid Nicholas and I must go and make a call,” Julia said, “but I want to spend the entire day with you ladies tomorrow.”

  After Nicholas and Julia left, Felicity turned to address Leorah. “Do you think we could visit Lord Withinghall and inquire after his health? If he is not in a very bad disposition today, perhaps I could ask to borrow his book.”

  Resigned to the prospect of conversing with Lord Withinghall again, Leorah nodded.

  “Is the viscount in very much pain from his broken leg? Will he not like us bothering him?” Elizabeth Mayson’s cheeks were pale at the prospect of visiting with a curmudgeonly viscount while he was not well.

  “Not very much, I think,” Leorah said. They had all clucked over Leorah’s own broken arm, but Leorah had refrained from telling Felicity that someone had deliberately damaged the carriage, since she didn’t want to alarm Elizabeth.

  They finished their tea and went upstairs to see Lord Withinghall. On the stairs on the way up, Felicity took Leorah’s arm and whispered, “The viscount frightens me a bit, but Elizabeth is petrified.”

  “I do not think he will bite,” Leorah whispered back. “He is only a man. No need to allow him to intimidate you.”

  They found him sitting up in bed, much as he had looked the last time Leorah had seen him, when they had argued so strenuously. Her brother had scolded her soundly afterward, reminding her that Lord Withinghall was not only a guest in their house, but that he was a viscount and the Children’s Aid Mission’s largest supporter, both monetarily and by his advocacy in Parliament.

  “But he insulted me!” Leorah protested. “Multiple times!”

  “Not as much as you insulted him,” Nicholas fired back. “And he can afford to give offense, for he is rich and a viscount and a very good friend of mine.” Nicholas sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know you don’t like him, and he can be very difficult sometimes, but please, for my sake, try not to argue so stridently with him. Be polite.” He squeezed her arms as though to impress his words upon her.

  Leorah had promised only to try to be polite. And now her promise would be tested for the first time.

  “Lord Wi
thinghall, allow me to present Miss Felicity Mayson and her sister, Miss Elizabeth Mayson.” She looked into his blue eyes, which were shaded beneath thick, black, lowered brows. Was he remembering Felicity and Leorah’s earlier comments about his piratical appearance?

  Elizabeth was quite pale as she curtsied, then wobbled. Leorah prayed she wouldn’t faint. Felicity, in contrast, was pink-cheeked and fidgety.

  “Are you feeling well today, Lord Withinghall?” Leorah asked.

  “Except for a leg, which I cannot use to stand or walk, I am very well, Miss Langdon.”

  Obviously he was not in the most agreeable mood. Would Felicity be brave enough to ask him if she might borrow his copy of Hannah More’s book?

  They chatted about the weather and the condition of the roads, during which Lord Withinghall’s comments were clipped and barely civil. It made Leorah want to laugh at him and force him to see the humor in his situation. But she refrained, since Felicity and Elizabeth were both so in awe of him and frightened by his severe demeanor.

  Suddenly, Felicity straightened her shoulders, sitting taller in her chair. “Is that book on your nightstand a copy of Miss Hannah More’s new book, Christian Morals?”

  “It is.”

  “May I look at it?”

  He reached over and picked up the book, passing it to Leorah, who was closest to him. She in turn passed it to Felicity.

  “How did you manage to obtain a copy, Lord Withinghall? I have been trying without success for weeks.” Felicity opened the book, her eyes quickly focusing on the first page.

  He seemed disinclined to answer Felicity, especially since she wasn’t listening, but he mumbled, “Miss More gave it to me.”

  “You must be missing your own home and servants, Lord Withinghall,” Leorah observed, trying to think of something to fill the silence, knowing Elizabeth was too nervous to speak and Felicity was lost in Christian Morals. “But I suppose you will be more comfortable now that your valet has arrived.” His hair, which looked much better without his valet’s attention, would probably go back to being flat and out of fashion now, but she refrained from mentioning that.

  “My valet did arrive, but he tells me he has decided to leave my service and go live with his sister.”

  “Oh. I suppose you will miss him very much. Has he been with your family a long time?”

  “Since before I was born.”

  Yes, and his ideas of clothing, hair, and cravat knots dated that far back as well. “Will you need any help finding a new valet?”

  “I shall manage, thank you.”

  Leorah searched her brain for a suitable topic of conversation. “Loyal servants are indeed a blessing.”

  Lord Withinghall did not offer any reply, and they sat in silence. The silence reigned for so long Leorah’s mind began to wander to what amusements she might treat her guests to in the coming days. Perhaps the doctor would allow her to ride again, if she promised not to go faster than a trot.

  Suddenly, Felicity closed the book in her lap and looked up, meeting Lord Withinghall’s eye. “I am so very devoted to Hannah More’s books and her evangelical spirit of encouragement. Would you, Lord Withinghall, graciously lend me your copy of Christian Morals for a short while—one day—to allow me to read it?”

  He stared back at Felicity, who seemed to be holding her breath. Finally, Lord Withinghall said, “I shall be happy to lend it to someone with as much eagerness to read it as you have, Miss Mayson.”

  “Oh, thank you, my lord. I promise I shall take the utmost care of your precious autographed copy and return it to you with due speed.” A smile lit up Felicity’s countenance, and she clasped the book to her chest with great fervency.

  “You are welcome.”

  Even Felicity’s zeal didn’t alter Lord Withinghall’s dour look. Again, Leorah had an irrational urge to laugh and tease the irritable viscount. Even if he made some ill-natured retort, at least he wouldn’t be lying there in depressed silence. But she decided against it. Her brother was already vexed with her for arguing with the viscount so much.

  Soon they bid him good day and left his room, all of them sighing with relief at escaping his presence. Although Felicity felt the need to defend him and say, “He can’t be an unredeemable person if he loves Hannah More so much. And if she esteems him enough to write such a complimentary inscription and give him a copy of her new book, I shall have a greater respect than his title of ‘viscount’ alone warrants.”

  It was rather curious that he enjoyed reading Hannah More’s books, but then, it made a kind of sense, due to the fact that she advocated righteous fervor and discouraged rebellion. It was such ideology that made Leorah squirm just a bit and no doubt made Lord Withinghall feel quite self-righteous.

  “Felicity, what do you enjoy so much about Hannah More’s books?” Leorah wanted to understand.

  “I suppose I enjoy the way she reproves the aristocrats and the gentry, the very people no one else has the courage to criticize, for their hypocrisy and lack of morality. She writes with such feeling, such heartfelt earnestness! I feel a kinship with her, just from reading her words. Even my mother said, ‘She makes me feel renewed.’”

  Leorah could not argue with all those heartfelt, earnest, and otherwise pious sentiments, but she also could never feel completely comfortable with Miss Hannah More, knowing that her opinion of novels was that they “debase the taste, slacken the intellectual nerve, let down the understanding, set the fancy loose, and send it gadding among low and mean objects.”

  A little disturbing to Leorah, who preferred a novel to any book of sermons, and even more baffling was that Miss More’s works on religious reform and morality outsold even the most successful novels.

  Someday soon Leorah would not have to feel judged in her own house. Lord Withinghall would go back to his home, taking his autographed copies of Hannah More’s books with him, and Leorah could enjoy her novels again in peace.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Leorah, I know you won’t mind.”

  Nicholas’s words made Leorah’s stomach sink. She had too many memories of him saying those very words to her just before he told her how he had promised a friend that she would dance with him, or that he had confessed to their mother about one of their pranks, or that he had told some young man she would rather avoid seeing that she was in town.

  Leorah held her breath, then glared at him. “Nicholas Langdon, what have you done?”

  Julia was standing beside him, her forehead creased—another bad sign.

  “Before you get upset, recall what a great service Lord Withinghall did for you when he splinted your arm and graciously took you into his carriage.”

  “Nicholas . . .”

  “I am trying to save your reputation, actually.”

  “What are you talking about?” Leorah felt the angry flush creeping into her cheeks.

  Julia laid a hand on Nicholas’s arm and said calmly, “What Nicholas is trying to say is that we have invited Miss Augusta Norbury and her guardian, Mrs. Palladia Culpepper, to stay with us.”

  “Augusta Norbury? Whatever for? She’s never liked me, and I’ve barely said ten words to her in all the years I’ve known her.” The superior Augusta Norbury would only spoil her time with her friend Felicity—who was sweet and cheerful and nothing like Augusta, who would no doubt turn her nose up at Felicity, the merchant’s daughter. Felicity and Elizabeth had only been there for one full day. It was horribly unfair.

  Felicity and Elizabeth stood behind Leorah on the stairs, as they had all met Nicholas and Julia on their way down.

  Julia said, her brow creased, “It seems Lord Withinghall confessed to Nicholas that he had meant to ask Miss Norbury to marry him in London a few weeks ago, but she had been called away suddenly. And if we invite her while he is here, it will help dispel the rumors about you and the viscount, especially if he is able to become engaged to her.”

  The news that Lord Withinghall was planning to ask Augusta Norbury to be his wife se
nt Leorah’s stomach sinking again. She certainly didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she cared who he married. “Well, why can’t he wait until he is at his own house? I hardly think he is pining away for such a cold, condescending thing as her.”

  Felicity stifled a laugh behind her hand as her sister Elizabeth sucked in a loud breath.

  Julia said softly, “I am sorry you do not like her, but—”

  “You might not be so against it,” Nicholas interrupted her, “when you hear about the gossip that has started about you and Withinghall.”

  She sighed. Should she tell him she’d already heard it?

  Julia shook her head and frowned. “Lord Withinghall received a letter today from one of his political advisors in London who said there was talk there about the two of you being alone together in an overturned carriage after dark. They were apparently unaware of his broken leg and your broken wrist, but I’m sure when the truth is known about your injuries, the gossip will die down.”

  “Your faith in humanity, my dear Mrs. Langdon,” Nicholas said, “is much beyond mine. I, on the contrary, have little faith the gossip will die on its own, but if we invite Miss Augusta Norbury here, it may help to show that there is nothing untoward between you and Lord Withinghall.”

  It was all ridiculous. Society didn’t care if you did something immoral. Society only insisted that you do it quietly and discreetly. And whenever there was gossip to be told, there was no shortage of people who wanted to hear it—and spread it. Hypocrites they were, and yet they had the nerve to accuse innocent people.

  “Perhaps Miss Norbury can occupy Lord Withinghall in a more satisfactory manner, and I won’t be expected to sit for half an hour every day by his bedside pretending to enjoy his ill-tempered silences.” Certain that either Nicholas or Julia, or both, were about to scold her for being ungracious, she turned to Felicity and Elizabeth. “Let us go out and take a turn about the garden. I want to show you my favorite spots.”

  She slipped her hand through Felicity’s arm and hurried them out into the garden. She didn’t know why her jaw clenched and her shoulders felt so weighed down, but no doubt it was due in some way to Lord Withinghall.