Leonora nodded. “I am. I cannot explain it, but I am.”
Phineas nodded. “Very well.” He turned questioning eyes to his wife.
“Perhaps we should return inside,” Lady Barrington suggested, casting her sister a watchful glance. “You need rest.”
Leonora nodded. “I do, but first I wish to speak to…Lord Pemberton.” Drake could not deny that he disliked hearing her address him in such a formal manner. Nevertheless, he longed to speak to her in private. Had she been able to read that longing upon his face?
Lady Barrington hesitated, but her husband took her by the elbow. “Come, we’ll wait over there.” Together, they strolled to the other end of the terrace, occasionally casting watchful glances over their shoulders at them.
Leonora still stood with her arms wrapped around herself as though she were cold, trying to ward off the night air. Shivers shook her, and the look in her eyes made Drake want to wrap her in his arms as well as rush off to hunt down her attacker at the same time.
Clearing his throat, Drake reminded himself that he needed to remain focused as the dowager countess’s words kept ringing in his ears, taunting him even. “Are you certain it was not Sedgwick?”
Leonora shrugged. “As certain as I’ll ever be. I never saw his face, nor do I remember his voice. Everything from that night appears so distant now. It was dark and loud, and…I simply cannot be certain. Yet, when I looked at him tonight, I could not help but think that his words were genuine.”
Drake nodded, willing to believe her, but equally afraid that she might be mistaken. “What about Gillingham?” Drake frowned, uncertain where the question had come from. He had not meant to ask it; nonetheless, he burned to know its answer.
“Gillingham?” Leonora asked with a frown. “What do you mean?”
Dropping his gaze, Drake shifted on his feet, uncertain how to continue. After all, his reason for asking had nothing to do with her safety. “He seems to seek your company a lot lately,” he merely remarked, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.
“He does,” Leonora agreed before she turned around, her hands once more settling upon the stone balustrade. “We seem to have a lot in common.” She inhaled a slow breath, and Drake watched her close her eyes for a brief moment. Then she turned back to look at him. “I think…I think he wants to marry me.”
If she had punched him in the stomach, Drake would have been less shocked! “Marry you?” he echoed like a fool. “Did he…?” He gritted his teeth against a wave of jealousy—there was simply no other word for it!—and fought to remain calm. “Did he propose?”
Once more, Leonora’s hand rose and settled upon her arms, hugging herself. “He did not,” she clarified, and Drake wished he could tell if she was relieved or regretful. “He merely suggested that he enjoyed my company and that friendship would be a good foundation for marriage.” Sighing, she shook her head. “Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps I misunderstood him. All I can say is that I got the impression that…” She trailed off, and her gaze slipped from his.
“If he had proposed,” Drake asked, knowing that he should not, “would you have accepted him?” Every muscle in his body was tense to the point of breaking, and he realized that very moment, that the dowager countess had been right. Of course, she had not said so expressly, but her words had indicated only too clearly that she believed Drake to hold affections for her granddaughter. And he did, did he not?
He held affections for her.
He cared about her.
Hell, he loved her!
Her blue eyes returned to meet his, and her lips parted as though she wished to say something. But she did not. She simply stood there, looking at him, something in her eyes that Drake wished he could understand. Was it the darkness? The lack of light? Or could he simply not tell?
“I don’t know,” Leonora finally said, great sadness in her voice before she hung her head. “These days, I feel as though I don’t know anything. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what would be best for me, or what I want. I wish I did. I truly wish I did.” She stepped toward him, her eyes now actively seeking his. “Please, what should I do?”
Drake gritted his teeth, forbidding himself from telling her to refuse Gillingham. This was her decision. This had to be her decision. “I cannot tell you what to do,” he told her even though it killed him. “This is your life, your choice. But,” he took a step toward her, unable not to, “if you are not certain, then hold off. Don’t rush into something because you’re afraid not to.” Drake wanted to punch himself. Had he not a moment ago declared that he would not make this decision for her? And had his words to her now not been exactly that? He had all but told her to refuse Gillingham because she had told him quite directly that she was not certain! He had taken advantage of her uncertainty and used it to get what he wanted.
In that moment, Drake could not help but wonder that if he were to ask for her hand, would she accept him? He could not help but think that there was something between them; only he feared that it might be nothing more than gratitude.
Because he had come to her aid.
Because he had offered his help.
Because when she looked at him, she saw…a friend.
Never would Drake have thought it possible that the word friend would come to mean something unpleasant. Yet, it had. For he did not want to be her friend.
Or her protector.
He wanted…
Perhaps he ought not even think it.
It was safer.
Much safer.
Yet…
Chapter Thirty-Three
Parents
“Do you want me to go with you?” Louisa asked as the carriage pulled to a halt in front of their family’s townhouse. Phineas disembarked and then held open the door for his wife and sister-in-law. The rest of the family had already returned home when Grandma Edie had felt fatigued.
Leonora shook her head as they made their way up the stairs to the front door. “No, I can do this.” She turned around to hug her sister and to smile at her new brother-in-law. “Thank you for your help tonight.”
Louisa smiled at her encouragingly. “Don’t worry. Mother and Father will understand.”
Leonora nodded. “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried…” Although she could not quite say about what, she felt as though something terrifyingly awful would happen if she spoke of the night of the masquerade, if she told her parents. “Good night.”
Her hands trembled as Leonora slipped inside, wondering if her parents were still up or if they had already gone to bed. Deep down, she knew that they never retired until all the children were home. They kept their distance and allowed them all to make their own choices; yet, Leonora had always felt their watchful eyes.
In the near dark, Leonora made her way upstairs to her parents’ bedchamber. A part of her argued that she ought to wait until the morning. Still, another night would not make it any easier for her to say what had to be said. And so, she did not pause outside the door. She raised her fist and knocked.
After a few heartbeats, the door opened and her father stood before her. He already wore his nightdress, a robe tied over it, the look in his eyes fatigued. “Leo? What is it? Are you well?” He opened the door wider and moved aside, inviting her in.