A Viscount's Proposal

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Apologize for them? If they have done wrong, then they should be the ones to apologize.”

  “I realize that. But I do not want you to think that I sent them or even knew that they were coming here to say those things to you. I would never have wanted them to speak thusly on my behalf.”

  “But perhaps they were right.”

  He lowered his brows, drawing them together.

  “Your reputation and career may suffer from being in my company.”

  “I do not attempt to address foolish speculations. You have done nothing wrong, and I will not be controlled by the gossipmongers’ idle chatter.”

  “But I know it would pain you,” Leorah said softly, lowering her voice, “to be embroiled in a scandal.”

  “So I might have thought as well.” His expression was very sober, and he looked into her eyes. “But this has taught me that the only thing that would truly pain me would have been to be at fault in a scandal, to have done something shameful or hurtful to another person, not the scandal itself.”

  Leorah’s breath shallowed as she contemplated his statement. Only a truly good man of noble character could have spoken those words—and meant them.

  “But you value your career,” Leorah said, her heart suddenly beating erratically as she tried to read his expression. “You would not want anything to prevent you from serving your country.”

  “I do value my career, but . . . perhaps I may have made an idol of it.”

  Felicity started fanning herself with her handkerchief. She seemed to realize what she was doing and clasped her hands in her lap.

  He continued to stare intently into Leorah’s eyes. “I am coming to realize that there are more important things in life than worldly success. Or preserving the good opinion of people who have nothing to do with my happiness.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “That sounds very wise.”

  “Perhaps these near-death experiences are inciting me to become a philosopher.”

  Leorah smiled. “Yes. A very good one, I would say.”

  Felicity sat quite still, her lips parted as she looked from Leorah to Lord Withinghall and back to Leorah.

  “It is incredible,” Leorah said, “that the man did not murder you. You were so close to him when the gun went off. But I suppose he was so startled he lost his aim when you came leaping off the stage and fell on top of him.” Leorah bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

  “It was undignified, I suppose.” One side of his mouth went up in a wry smile. “But not as undignified as running away.”

  “Undignified?” Leorah placed her hand over her heart. “It was very brave. No one should be concerned with dignity when one is facing down a gun.”

  “You were the brave one, striking an armed man with only a parasol.”

  Leorah laughed.

  “But, thankfully, God in his mercy kept us both safe yesterday.”

  “Yes. Thankfully.”

  “Well, I should go. I do not wish to delay your morning walk.” Lord Withinghall stood to leave, and after a few civilities, the servant showed him out.

  When he was gone, Felicity hurried to the window and watched him walk down the street. She spun around, her eyes large and a smile on her lips.

  “Oh, Leorah. He wants to ask you to marry him!”

  “What could have made you come to that conclusion?” She could not let Felicity know that she had thought the same thing. And yet, there were so many reasons why it could not be true.

  “The way he looked! The way he spoke!”

  “He was only trying to discover if I was well after the man tried to kill him. You are imagining it.”

  “I imagined nothing. No, he is in love with you. I am sure of it. And you cannot convince me otherwise.”

  “That he would be in love with me seems very unlikely. He already asked me to marry him once, and I refused him. He would never ask me again.”

  “Perhaps he wasn’t in love with you then, but he is now.”

  “That can’t be true, Felicity. He has always disliked me.”

  “He may have disliked you when he barely knew you, but he’s come to know you much better.”

  “Well, even if he is in love with me,” Leorah said, turning away from her friend and fingering the draperies hanging beside the window, “I’m not in love with him.” Am I?

  “Why not? He is handsome. He doesn’t listen to his friends who have told him not to speak to you. And he is a viscount with a large fortune.”

  “Yes, but he disapproves of people like me who don’t follow society’s rules. And he’s incapable of passionate love.” At least, that was what she had always believed about him. But did she still believe that?

  “How do you know he’s incapable of passionate love? He loves helping children, and did you hear what he said about not making an idol of his career? And that thing he said about there being more important things in life, and about his happiness . . . I know he was speaking of you.”

  “You know no such thing. He never said a word about me. You nearly convinced me—I’d nearly convinced myself—but we’re both only being silly.”

  “How do you feel about him? Do you love him?”

  Leorah took a deep breath and allowed herself a bit of soul searching. Finally, she said, “I have never been in love with a man, but I always imagined if I were in love, it would be similar to how I feel about Buccaneer.”

  Felicity’s mouth flew open. “Are you going to compare a viscount to a horse?”

  “If I cannot feel more for a man than I do for my horse, I cannot very well be in love with him, can I?” Leorah was only partially in jest. “I love my Bucky. I miss him when I don’t see him for a few days. I want to talk to him and put my arms around him whenever I do see him.” Did she also feel that way about Lord Withinghall?

  Oh dear. She did miss him when she didn’t see him. She did want to talk to him and put her arms around him when she saw him. She even wanted to feel his arms around her. But how could she admit that to Felicity?

  “Leorah, you are not human if you do not feel at least a bit of love for the man. I’m half in love with him myself, though it’s clear it is you he cares for.”

  “I do like him. He is not so dull as I thought he was at one time.”

  “Do you not recall how he asked me to dance after that baronet snubbed me so rudely at your ball?”

  “Yes, that was very noble of him.” Leorah’s stomach fluttered in the same way it had when the incident had occurred. “He is a good man, and I would not object to his marrying my sister.”

  “You don’t have a sister.”

  “But if I did, I would like to have him for my brother.” Was it only pride that kept her from admitting to her friend that she liked him as more than a brother? Or was she afraid of getting her heart broken if Lord Withinghall did not love her after all? Besides that, there was still fear inside her, fear that if she married him, he would treat her coldly, and she could not bear that. No. If he asked her to marry him again in the same unimpassioned way he had asked her the first time, she would tell him no.

  “Leorah, you are incorrigible.”

  “I have been told so before.”

  Felicity sighed and shook her head. “If he returns and pays another call on you within a week, I will think of an excuse to leave you alone with him so he can ask you.”

  “You are a true romantic, Felicity. But I do not think he will ask me a second time. Besides, what makes you think I would say yes if he did?”

  Felicity bowed her head and pressed her hands to her ears.

  Leorah took hold of Felicity’s elbow. “Come. I can’t stand sitting around here talking like schoolgirls. Let’s go for a walk in the park.”

  Three days later, Leorah, Felicity, and Elizabeth were sitting companionably in the drawing room, talking of their morning walk and who they had seen, when the servant came in with the morning post.

  “Two letters for Miss Langdon.”

  “Thank yo
u, Stephens.”

  Leorah’s heart leapt at seeing Rachel’s handwriting on the two envelopes. They had been sent to her at Glyncove Abbey, and then someone had taken their time forwarding them. The letter was postmarked ten days earlier.

  She ripped them open. Now she’d discover what had become of her friend and her sweet baby.

  Dear Leorah,

  I am writing to ask your assistance. Please forgive me for even asking, but I am desperate and would risk losing any shred of dignity on my poor baby’s behalf.

  Olivia’s father ordered me to give my baby up, but I refused, so he has punished me by sending me and Olivia to a workhouse in Kent. Forgive me for even exposing you to my low and shameful problems, but I fear the conditions where we are. I fear my baby will die. It is cold. They provide us very little food and nothing healthful. Olivia has been sick, but they refuse to allow me a doctor, and the medicine they have given me for her is worse than nothing at all. If I lose her, then my life is not worth living. I cannot bear the thought of it.

  Miss Langdon, if there is any kind of work I might do for you or your family, nothing is too low for me. Please help me, for my innocent child’s sake.

  It was signed, Your humble servant, Rachel Becker.

  Leorah quickly ripped open the second letter while allowing Felicity to read the first.

  Dear Leorah,

  In the fear—or hope—that my last letter went astray, or was intercepted by someone, I am writing again to beg you to send enough money for me to pay for a mail coach ride to anywhere I might find work, but the man is having the matron over at the workhouse steal my mail. I am sending this letter secretly. Olivia still is not well. Please, please help me. I am in the St. Vincent Workhouse in Kent.

  Yours, Rachel Becker

  It was dated a week before.

  “Oh dear Lord in heaven.” Leorah clutched the letter to her chest.

  “What is it? What has happened?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

  Felicity handed her sister the first letter and then took the second one from Leorah.

  While reading the first letter, Elizabeth gasped and cried, “Oh no!”

  Felicity looked up from the second letter. “This is terrible! Poor Rachel!”

  Elizabeth burst into tears.

  Leorah clenched her hand into a fist. “I must do something to help her.”

  But what could she do? If she were in her own home, she would send a manservant right away to take Rachel and Olivia out of that place. But she couldn’t possibly send one of the Maysons’ servants. The Maysons would not be likely to want to spare one of their own servants to help a woman of Rachel’s status.

  Leorah wrung her hands at Rachel’s dire need. “I want to just get on a horse and ride to Kent, take Rachel and Olivia out of that terrible place, and dare anyone to try to stop me.” Tears of anger stung Leorah’s eyes.

  “Oh no, you cannot, you must not do that.” Felicity looked frightened.

  Just then, they heard someone calling downstairs. Visitors now? Not one of the three of them was in any state to receive callers.

  Stephens announced, “Lord Withinghall.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Edward made his way to the Maysons’ town house to call on Miss Langdon. Inside, he was led into the drawing room where sat the two youngest Miss Maysons and Miss Langdon. They spoke of the usual polite subjects—weather, roads, and the mildest gossip concerning the royal family that had made its way into the papers. But he couldn’t help noticing that they all seemed a bit distracted, especially Miss Langdon. She held something in her lap, her hand mostly covering it. When she suddenly rearranged her skirts, the papers fluttered to the floor.

  She let out a small “Oh” and picked them up. Letters.

  “Have you received some bad news from home, Miss Langdon?” he asked.

  “No, no.”

  “Your parents are well, I hope.”

  “Yes, they are very well.”

  “And your brothers and their families?”

  “They are all very well, I thank you. It is only some news from a friend. Some distressing news, I am afraid.” Her manner was subdued, but he fancied he could see the pain in her eyes, and her restlessness and distraction made him think that she was wishing she could take action on behalf of this friend.

  “Is there anything I might do to help?” His chest ached. He would not rest until she agreed to let him help.

  How could Leorah tell Lord Withinghall about Rachel when his life had been destroyed by his father becoming involved with a woman like her? She kept the letters hidden under her hand. And yet . . . what could she say? There was so much sincerity in the way he looked at her with his brows drawn together.

  “I . . . I could not possibly ask for your help. It is a rather delicate matter.”

  “It is only that one of our friends needs help getting away from a certain place,” Felicity said, her cheeks turning pink.

  “The truth is,” Leorah said, resigning herself to his disapproval, “a young woman who once helped at the Children’s Aid Mission and whom we had befriended was taken away from her home by . . . the man who was . . . keeping her. He took her and put her and her child in a workhouse.”

  “This man’s child?”

  “Yes. And for months we did not know what had happened to her. She was trying to get away from him,” Leorah said quickly. “She was looking for work, honest work. She is not an evil person at all, only desperate. But he was trying to force her to give up the child, and she simply could not do that.”

  “I see.”

  Her stomach sank. She could not tell if Lord Withinghall was angry, and if so, who was the person inciting the anger. She went on quickly.

  “Rachel—this woman—wrote to me to ask for help ten days ago, but the letter has only just now made its way to me. Her child is ill, and the conditions at the workhouse are deplorable. I would send her money, but she says someone is intercepting her letters.”

  “And where is she?”

  “The St. Vincent Workhouse in Kent.”

  “I see. And you said her name is Rachel?”

  “Rachel Becker.” Was she right in giving him this information? He would think she was manipulating him into helping her. Oh dear. The thought of Lord Withinghall involving himself in such a thing as this . . . “Please do not think I am telling you this to beg for your help.”

  “And do you know the name of the man who took her there?”

  “No. She has never told me. I know this is all very sordid, but she has no one to help her, no one to turn to. Not that I would ever expect you to involve yourself.” Leorah bit her lip. “We should speak of something else.”

  What was Lord Withinghall thinking? Had he lost all respect for her? Did he think she was asking for his help?

  “Do you believe this man wants the child to perish?” he asked. The look on his face was so earnest she did not hesitate to answer.

  “Yes. He does not want the child, does not care about her. Rachel once told me he was a Member of Parliament, in the House of Commons.”

  “That is despicable.” Lord Withinghall said the words very quietly as he stared down at the floor.

  “Yes. It makes me want to hire a carriage and ride to Kent this very moment.”

  “No, you must do no such thing.” He took a breath and lowered his voice. “That is, I do not think that would be quite safe for you, Miss Langdon. Perhaps there is something I can do.” Lord Withinghall looked intently into her eyes. “Truly, I do not wish you to worry. Leave it to me. And now I must go.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “Do not worry, Miss Langdon. All will be well. I bid you all a good day.”

  They all stood and said good-bye to the viscount as he left.

  Leorah’s cheeks burned. “Do you truly think he will help Rachel and Olivia? I cannot believe he was not disgusted by the entire business. Perhaps I should not have told him anything about Rachel.” But how selfish of her to care more about what he tho
ught of her than about Rachel and Olivia. She should be grateful he intended to help. Oh God, let his actions on Rachel’s behalf not bring about a scandal!

  “No, I think he was earnest in his desire to help,” Felicity said.

  “He will take care of her. Didn’t you hear him?” Elizabeth said, then sighed. “How good and kind he is.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better if I took care of Rachel so that he would not have to associate himself with it?” Leorah found herself wringing her hands again. “After all, it is not his responsibility. I need to think of a way to help Rachel.”

  “But what can you do?” Felicity said. “If I know my father, ever the frugal manager, he will never spare one of our servants or the carriage to go all the way to Kent to help a scandalous woman who had a baby out of wedlock.” Then she said more quietly, “I am sorry, Leorah.”

  “It is all right. I can send a letter to Nicholas at his new home. He will help.” But he was distracted with his first baby arriving soon.

  “Do you know what I think?” Felicity had a sly smile on her lips. “I think Lord Withinghall is glad to help your friend.”

  Leorah clenched her fingers into a fist again. “He hates scandal and especially dislikes women who have done the things that Rachel has done. He once snubbed the Duke of York because he was with his courtesan, Mary Clarke. And Lord Withinghall is a viscount. He has no dealings with such places as workhouses. Besides that, Parliament is sitting now, and he must be there every day it is in session, as he is a Cabinet Minister.”

  It was surely impossible, even if Lord Withinghall wanted to help.

  “He will come to his senses,” Leorah went on, “and decide he cannot involve himself in such a business. I still think I should hire a hackney coach and go there myself.”

  “Oh no, you mustn’t!” Elizabeth cried.

  “Indeed, I will not allow it. It is much too dangerous,” Felicity said.

  Leorah looked down at her letters. “Felicity, will you ask your mother if we might have the carriage for two hours, to go visit John Wilson at the Children’s Aid Mission?”