He stopped speaking. His lip trembled. He reached up with a clattering of shackles and wiped his eyes.
“I lifted the gun and, before I could even take aim, the lady beside me hit my hand. I got scared and fired without even aiming. Thank God I missed. Please believe me, I am glad I missed. I never wanted murder to be on my conscience.”
“Did they tell you why they wanted to kill me?”
“No, sir.”
“Was the first man young with brown hair, rather tall, with a noticeable cleft in his chin?”
“Yes. Very well looking, with perfect teeth.”
“That was Geoffrey Hastings.”
Good. The constable had allowed two men into the room, who were listening intently and writing on small pads of paper. Hopefully they were the reporters from the Morning Post and the Courier, whom he had notified.
“And the second man. Was he much shorter and balding, with a moustache?”
“Yes, exactly so.”
“That was Felton Pinegar.”
“Now that you say that, I did hear the younger one call him Pinegar.”
The constable’s face registered surprise, and just behind him, the other two men’s eyes lit up with gleeful interest.
“I don’t know what kind of mercy can be extended to me now,” the man went on, “but I would be grateful if someone could look after my wife and children. I don’t know how I coulda been desperate enough to be persuaded to shoot anyone, especially a viscount like you, Lord Withinghall. All I know is, the gents offered a tidy sum for my widow, enough to keep her and the wee ones fed for many years after I was hanged. Even as sot drunk as I was, I knew I had no hope of escaping the noose.”
“And where are your widow and children now?”
“At home, I reckon. On Dogfallow Lane, near Black Friars Road. If you could help them, sir, I’d be ever so grateful.”
“Some nerve,” the constable muttered. “Asking help from the man you tried to kill.”
“I will help them,” Edward said softly. “Very well, Constable. You may take him back to his cell.”
The constable had the second man take charge of the prisoner, who shuffled out of the room.
“It is a shame,” Edward said, frowning and shaking his head, “that this man should have a lapse of judgment due to alcohol and desperation to care for his family and then should hang for it.”
The constable gave a slight cough, then mumbled, “Hmm, yes, I suppose—”
“While the real would-be murderer, the one who wanted me dead, will go free for lack of evidence.”
“I see what you mean, of course, my lord.”
“Thank you for your time. Good day.” Edward tipped his hat to the constable, who walked him to the door of the jail.
Now he just had to avoid getting killed by Pinegar before the papers came out.
“Hold still and let us finish your hair, Leorah.”
Leorah squirmed at the vast amount of braids and pins, tiny flowers, and strings of beads that Felicity and her maidservant were putting in her hair.
“If we don’t hurry and finish, we will be late.” Felicity added another tiny flower to Leorah’s coiffure.
“And that will be your own fault for trying to fancy me up. You know I like my hair plain.”
“Oh, it won’t hurt to make your hair the prettiest at the party. You have beautiful dark hair, even if it is so thick it takes a hundred pins to hold it in place.”
Leorah knew what she was thinking. Lord Withinghall was supposed to be at tonight’s ball, the last one before Lent. And after the stories that had been in all the papers, he was the most-talked-about man in London.
Finally, they made the final touches to Leorah’s hair and, along with Mr. and Mrs. Mayson, they got into the carriage and made their way to the Colthursts’ ball.
Leorah recalled how Lord Withinghall had looked after the shooting, the heartfelt way he had told her to be careful, and the way he had helped her into the carriage, his hand lingering on her elbow. Her heart fluttered, and she mentally scolded herself. He might not even be at the ball.
They alighted from the carriage and joined several others who were just arriving. Once inside, Felicity’s friend Claire Turner rushed toward them.
“Have you heard what everyone is saying about Lord Withinghall?”
“It is all over the papers,” Felicity answered.
“That he has a courtesan whom he took to his house in Suffolk, and that the man who hired someone to shoot at him is a Member of Parliament, Mr. Felton Pinegar.”
“Claire, it is not true about him having a courtesan,” Felicity said. “Please do not spread that, for it is gossip and a vicious lie.”
“Oh, I do remember, there was something in today’s paper saying that the woman Lord Withinghall brought to his house in Suffolk had a baby and that the baby resembles Mr. Felton Pinegar. But that is strange, isn’t it? As if they are insinuating that the woman is Mr. Pinegar’s courtesan. Maybe the two men are fighting over this woman.” Claire’s eyes grew big.
“No, that is certainly not what is happening, Claire.”
“Sh, sh. There he is. Lord Withinghall.”
Leorah’s eyes met his.
One by one, the guests turned to look at him as he made his way through the crowd toward her. He was dressed well in a dark-green frock coat and a ribbon-trimmed waistcoat and matching breeches. His neckcloth was startlingly white against his tanned skin and dark hair. Though her heart was pounding, she forced her lips into a smile.
“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.
“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 t
he 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?