The other two seemed to realize that they might have been somewhat judgmental, both of them moving closer to Leah until she was wrapped up in their warm embrace, flanked by those she held dearest in the world.
“If you love him, I will immediately approve,” Anna murmured. “I am sorry if I was coarse or unkind before. You are, obviously, far prettier and far lovelier and far more intelligent than the Countess of Grayling. Besides, as I said, she loathes gentlemen. Of course, she is not in a secret relationship with Nathaniel, not if you are in love with him.”
Matilda made a noise of agreement. “Just because I do not want love does not mean I would ever prevent you from embracing it if it comes your way. I am in utter alignment with the Countess—ifyoufind a good man, a truly good man, then hold onto him if that is your desire. I will only pull a few faces and make a few remarks under my breath, I swear.”
“Nothing has changed!” Leah urged, feeling suddenly suffocated by their loyal show of support. She choked as she told them, “I am not like Olivia. I could never… give my heart to any man, even a good one. It is… impossible. I do not trust… any man enough, nor will I.”
Her three friends pulled back: Matilda wore an expression of partial relief; Phoebe had a maternal look in her eyes as if she had just had to tell one of her sisters that a beloved rabbit had died; meanwhile, Anna looked like she was about to cry, her hand clasped to her own heart.
“Jonathan ruined me,” Leah said simply. “There is no recovering from what he did. If, in an entirely made-up world, Nathaniel were to propose marriage to me, the anxiety would kill me. I would go to the church, fearing the very worst, and when he did not appear, for he does not want marriage either, I would be thrown back into the same storm of three years ago, my heart stomped to irretrievable fragments.” She hastened to add, “Not just if it was Nathaniel, but if it was any other man who might… find me endearing. Jonathan did not just break my heart, dear friends, he broke my faith in the world and in the men who reside here.”
Anna made an odd, strangled sound. “It is too awful. Why, I have half a mind to take the largest bucket of horse filth that I can find and go to his door, knock upon it, and throw it in his face.” She balled her hands into tight fists. “I have never hated anyone, but my goodness, do I hate him!”
“It seems you are not the only one,” Matilda said in a hushed voice, chinning toward the main thoroughfare that cut through the park.
A gig rattled along, led by a rather thin-looking horse. In the back, Jonathan and Dorothy appeared to be in the midst of a heated disagreement. But that was not the most alarming part: Jonathan had a black eye, puffed up so badly that it resembled a raw piece of meat. Another purple bruise traversed the bridge of his nose while a third bloomed upon his jaw.
Leah clamped a hand over her mouth to stop a gasp escaping. “What happened to him, I wonder?”
“He got what he deserved, I should say,” Matilda replied.
Phoebe nodded. “I rarely condone violence, but I cannot deny that is a satisfying sight.”
“I heard it was debt collectors,” Anna whispered as the other three whirled around, gaping at her.
“Excuse me? You already knew of this?” Matilda asked.
Anna nodded shyly. “I might have overheard my father discussing it with my uncle this morning. Apparently, one of their friends found him drunk and incoherent at the winter extravaganza last night. They took him home and tried to sober him, but he just kept repeating, “She is ruining everything. She will be the end of me.” But this friend said that Jonathan’s apartments were entirely empty of everything other than necessities. Completely bare. And Dorothy mentioned to the friend that they had “given a few things away as a charitable donation” though that cannot be true—Jonathan is a miser.”
“He did not look like that when I saw him staring at me,” Leah said, shuddering at the memory. She had glimpsed him several times throughout her dance with Nathaniel, his glower burning into her flesh.
Matilda tapped her chin in thought. “So, do we think that Dorothy is living beyond their means? She is always in the most fashionable gowns which I find utterly silly and wasteful, but I know it pleases some ladies.” A smirk tugged at her lips. “Now,thatis even more satisfying than seeing his eye like that—he thought he was marrying Dorothy for her family’s wealth, and instead he has had his own depleted by her frivolous spending. It is ironic perfection!”
A far worse, yet somehow thrilling, notion began to form in Leah’s mind as the gig rattled out of sight. She believed Matilda’s assumption about Dorothy’s spending, for it seemed the most likely explanation for the bare apartments, but there was one part she did not believe—that debt collectors had done that to Jonathan’s face. Her mind turned back to the previous night and the fresh bruise upon Nathaniel’s cheek. There had been some redness on his knuckles too; she had noticed when he took her hand to kiss it.
Could it be?Her heart turned a peculiar somersault, imagining Nathaniel fighting in defense of her honor.Did they run into one another?She recalled the scene at Mrs. Dibney’s dinner party. Even in that polite setting, there had been a fiery exchange between the two men because of her. Perhaps, they had found themselves in another altercation, and in the anonymity of the carnival with all the crowds and noise, it had turned physical.
“Are you well?” Anna grasped Leah’s arm. “You have gone quite red.”
Leah forced a smile. “It is the cold wind nipping at my cheeks. I am quite well.”
“Are you not glad to hear that there is trouble between those two?” Phoebe swooped in, eyeing Leah with curiosity. “You must, at least, be pleased that someone has smacked him that hard. It was long overdue.”
Leah shrugged. “I rarely condone violence.”
“Then why are you smiling like that?” Matilda asked with a knowing look in her eyes. “Youarepleased!”
Leah chuckled softly. “No, I do not know how to feel about it.” And that, at least, was the truth… in more ways than one.
* * *
“Absolutely not. Straight out with you. Do not even think of taking off your outdoor things,” Leah’s father shouted the moment she stepped through the front door of their Marylebone apartments.
Leah froze, her fur tippet dangling from her hand, ready to be placed in the small cloakroom. “Did you change your mind about sending me back to the Abbey to freeze myself into the daughter you want me to be? Are there guards waiting to escort me, so I cannot cause a scene?”
“Do not begin a quarrel with me, Leah; there is no time,” Ezra replied, running back and forth between the dining room and the parlor as if a particularly determined wasp was chasing him.
Leah’s mother emerged from a doorway further down the hall—the door to Leah’s bedchamber. “Ah, there you are! Thank goodness,” she said, walking briskly toward her daughter. “We were about to go in search of you.”
