“Remaining calm and focused outside a controlled situation,” Lord Pemberton mumbled in her ear as he once more stood behind her shoulder, “is quite a different matter from the training sessions we do here. What do you do when a gentleman approaches you and asks you for a dance?”
Leonora inhaled a shuddering breath, remembering the two or three times she had had to decline such an invitation. Her heart had almost beat out of her chest, and she had felt panic well up inside her. “I tell myself to breathe and not to panic because all will be well, because there is no true threat. I tell myself that is only in my head.”
“Does it help you?” Lord Pemberton asked, his breath brushing over the shell of her ear. “Do you begin to feel better?”
Leonora frowned, unable to quite recall these moments. “I’m not certain. I manage to remain calm and not run from the room.” She scoffed, annoyed with herself. “I cannot rightfully say that I am any closer to experiencing these moments as I did before…” Her voice trailed off, sometimes even saying the word masquerade was too much. Sometimes—
All of a sudden, Lord Pemberton’s hands settled upon her waist. This time, he had not asked for permission, and Leonora drew in a sharp breath, momentarily overwhelmed by the feel of his hands as well as the memories they brought forth.
“Breathe,” he instructed in that calm voice of his, “and then react.”
Closing her eyes, Leonora drew in a deep breath, feeling it fill her body and give her strength. And then she moved as he had taught her, jabbing her elbow into his midsection before she spun around and shoved him backwards. He stumbled a few steps, but then caught himself and once more advanced upon her.
“What do you do now?” he demanded, looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. She knew he was pushing her, daring her to react, to use her wits even in a moment that threatened to overwhelm her. “What do you do?”
Retreating, Leonora shook her head, unable to think. “I don’t know. I…” Then she felt the wall at her back and knew that there was no way out. Barely a heartbeat later, Lord Pemberton stood right in front of her. He leaned forward, his hands braced against the wall on each side of her head, his eyes dark and almost menacing as they held hers. “What do you do?”
Staring at him, Leonora shook her head. “I don’t know.”
His brows rose as his gaze held hers. “You run,” he told her, emphasizing each word. “You free yourself, and then you run.” He inhaled a slow breath, then leaned back, his hands falling away, releasing her from the cage he had formed around her. “Is that not what you did that night? You fought him off, and then you ran.”
Leonora paused, staring at him in bewilderment.
“You saved yourself.” His gaze was intense as it held hers. “You saved yourself. You did not wait for another’s rescue. You acted. You protected yourself. Don’t forget that. It was your strength and your will that saved you that night.”
Countless times, Leonora had relived that night in her dreams and her nightmares, and yet, she had never quite looked at what had happened in this way. She had only ever seen her weakness, her fear, her pain. Not once had she considered what had happened as an accomplishment. Yes, he had attacked her, but she had fought him. She had defended herself, and she had gotten away.
Lord Pemberton’s image began to blur as tears shot to Leonora’s eyes. Only these tears spoke of relief, of gratitude because after all this time Leonora finally came to realize that she was strong after all.
Chapter Seventeen
A Safe Anchor
Despite his own past, Drake had never quite looked at a ballroom in the way he did now. He had always known that a number of gentlemen did not deserve the word for they acted anything but gentlemanly. They dominated others through fear and pain and thought only of themselves. More than once, Drake had avenged a wife who had been brutalized by her own husband, someone who ought to see to her protection. Always had Drake found a reason to call out such a man, and more often than not, he had managed to end his life on the field of honor.
Doing so had brought Drake at least a sliver of satisfaction. It would never appease his own guilt over failing his mother, but at least he could ensure that others did not continue to suffer.
However, now, where Lady Leonora was concerned, Drake knew that something had changed. He no longer looked at her as one woman among many. Another victim who deserved his help.
Somehow, she had set herself apart from all the others.
Standing in yet another corner in yet another ballroom, Drake watched Lady Leonora and her family. Indeed, she was never alone, those she loved always nearby. Although Drake had had his doubts before, he had come to realize that Lord Whickerton loved his family fiercely, his watchful eyes never straying far from his daughters. He was a quiet man, who never spoke much and who spent most of his time with his wife by his side. It did not seem that either one of them attended balls in order to socialize, but merely to find another place to be with one another. It was an endearing sight, and Drake wished that all marriages could be like that.
Lady Leonora mostly remained behind whenever her sisters would take to the dance floor. Still, one night, when Lord Sedgwick approached her, Drake could see a new kind of determination come to her eyes. Although her body tensed, she seemed to remain in control, forcing her nerves to settle and accept the close proximity of the young lord. Indeed, Drake watched in astonishment as she accepted his hand and followed him onto the dance floor. It was not a waltz, but a dance that would lead them apart and back together, offering Lady Leonora space and moments of retreat, and Drake wondered if she had chosen the dance with thought.
“You look like a thundercloud,” Phineas suddenly remarked from behind him, “one ready to send out bolts of lightning at the next unsuspecting fool to venture outside.” His old friend stepped up to him and they stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes directed at the dance floor and Lady Leonora. “She seems tense,” Phineas remarked with a sidelong glance at Drake. “And yes, different from the way she did this past year.”
Drake could hear a question in his friend’s voice. “Did your wife send you here?”
Phineas chuckled, and he glanced over to where his new wife was watching them most intently. “She can be most impatient,” he remarked affectionately. “Especially when she is worried about one she loves.”
Drake nodded. He had seen the way the new Lady Barrington occasionally looked at him. He had seen the hint of suspicion in her eyes. Clearly, she did not trust him, not where her sister’s welfare was concerned. He wondered if it was something he had done or if it was a natural distrust, something that was part of who she was. “What does she want to know?”
“Well, quite frankly, she wants to know what is going on between you and her sister,” Phineas told him quietly, careful that his voice would not carry to another’s ears. “After all, we watched Leonora slip over to your house on our wedding day, and ever since it seems that Leonora spends many afternoons absent her family’s townhouse with rather unusual explanations provided by their grandmother.” He chuckled, casting a wicked grin at Drake. “From personal experience, I can tell you that Grandma Edie has her very own ideas of right and wrong. She is not above condoning certain behavior if she believes it will lead to a greater good for her family.”