With society watching, Gillingham cleared his throat and drew back his shoulders. “Well, to tell you the truth, Whickerton, your daughter met me in secret at the Hamilton masquerade last night.” Another gasp, this time louder, went through the small crowd. “There, she agreed to become my wife.” A smug smile came to Gillingham’s face.
Whispers erupted around them, and Drake knew that this was a scandal that would be discussed for many years to come.
For a moment, Leonora eyed the growing group of people surrounding her warily. Drake could tell that she had never been one to favor large crowds or be at the center of everyone’s attention. Nevertheless, here, now, there was no other way.
“He is lying, Father,” Leonora said in a steady voice, her eyes moving from Gillingham to her parents. “I admit, I did sneak out to attend the masquerade.” The crowd gasped anew, and Leonora paused to wait for the whispers to die down before continuing. She understood that it would be a futile attempt to prevent others from overhearing. “However, I did not do so in order to meet him. I went there out of curiosity alone.”
From the look upon Lord Whickerton’s face, Drake knew that he understood his daughter was speaking of the masquerade a year ago. What he also understood, judging from the sideways glances he cast at the crowd, was that his daughter was not merely speaking to him, but to the entire room. Caution rested in his gaze, and yet, he did not try to stop her.
“I found myself in a darkened hallway,” Leonora continued on, her hands clenched painfully, her fingernails no doubt digging into her palms. “There, a masked man came upon me. He seized me and pushed me against a wall…forcing his attentions on me.” She swallowed hard as the room fell deadly silent. Eyes widened, and jaws dropped. Some in shock, and some in disapproval.
Leonora turned ever so slowly, her gaze moving to Gillingham, accusation burning in her eyes. “It was him, Father. It was Lord Gillingham. He was the masked man. He was the one who attacked me.”
For a moment, Gillingham looked as though he would die from the shock of it. Clearly, he had never once expected Leonora to voice the truth so openly. Only she had, all but paralyzing him, and all possible replies seemed to remain stuck in his throat.
In contrast, Leonora’s family had no trouble voicing their outrage. The fact that it had been Gillingham who had attacked Leonora was news to most of them, and Drake could see first shock and then anger come to their faces. Leonora’s mother and sisters moved toward her, hands reaching out, offering comfort and support.
Her father, on the other hand, spun around to face Gillingham. “You attacked my daughter,” he snarled, not asking, but stating, quiet fury upon his face that Drake had never seen before. Always had Lord Whickerton appeared to him as a calm and collected, good-natured and level-headed man. Now, there was something dangerous in his gaze.
Gillingham drew back his shoulders, his lips thinning as he met Lord Whickerton’s fury. “She’s lying,” he snarled. Yet, Drake could see his show of bravado begin to crumble.
Leonora’s brother moved silently, pushed through the ranks his family had formed and came to stand at his father’s side, a very similar expression upon his face. “How dare you attack my sister?”
“I did not,” Gillingham insisted. “She invited me to.” He looked around the room, at the crowd, hoping for support. “Did she not just admit to having left her father’s house in the dead of night, alone and without a chaperone? What kind of woman does that? She’s a harlot, a disgrace, a—” Gillingham flinched and retreated a step when Leonora’s brother suddenly charged toward him. It was only his father’s hand upon his shoulder that stayed his attack, a look of utter disgust upon his face as he glared at his sister’s attacker.
Unbeknownst to most, though, the dowager countess had moved to stand behind Lord Gillingham’s right shoulder, and as he retreated backwards to evade the attack of Leonora’s brother, she silently slid her cane sideways.
When his foot caught on the old lady’s cane, Gillingham lost his footing and fell backwards.
Those assembled in the drawing room roared with laughter, and Gillingham’s face turned dark red in humiliation. He jumped back onto his feet, glaring at those around him until his eyes fell on Leonora.
Drake could see the hatred burning in his eyes. He knew what was to come, and he also knew the role he had to play in it. As much as he wanted to charge forward—as Leonora’s brother had only a moment ago—and intercept Gillingham, bring him to his knees and finish him once and for all, Drake knew that it was not his place.
Nor was it anyone else’s.
Only hers.
Only Leonora’s.
“You can do this,” he whispered quietly from behind her shoulder. “You’re strong and capable. Never forget that.”
With her hands balled at her sides, Leonora turned to look at him. Her blue eyes were wide, and Drake could see the tension in her shoulders. Yet, her jaw was set in determination, and it was not fear that sparked in her eyes in that moment. The hint of a smile even curled up her lips as she gave a quick nod, then turned back to face Gillingham.
Drake knew that this night would change her life forever. It would change her family’s life forever. But what might be even more important was that perhaps, just perhaps, it might also change the world...at least, a little bit. After all, they were not alone in the Whickertons’ drawing room, were they? No, they were at a societal ball, surrounded by countless watchful eyes. Everyone stood waiting, either inside the drawing room or outside in the corridor, gawking at them, ears strained to listen, to catch every word spoken, afraid to miss even the slightest bit passing that night.
Perhaps, a few among those present tonight would truly hear what Leonora was about to say.
Perhaps.
One could only hope so.
With his gaze fixed upon Leonora, Gillingham stormed toward her, his face contorted into a snarl. Clearly, he blamed her for all that had happened tonight, for the way people had only just now laughed at him.
And he was furious.
Drake gritted his teeth to keep from moving, to remain where he was and give her this moment. His gaze met Lord Whickerton’s, and he saw a question in the man’s wide eyes. A question which Drake answered with an affirmative nod. He could see that Leonora’s father understood, his right hand still tightly clasped upon his son’s shoulder.
Relieved to see that her father agreed, Drake focused his attention on Gillingham once more. Indeed, never had he seen the man in such a state. Before, he had always appeared rather dull and collected. Now, however, he was revealing an entirely different side of his character. One he had successfully hidden before.
But no more.
“You!” Gillingham snarled, his eyes shooting daggers at Leonora, his finger pointing at her in accusation. “You did this! You harlot!” He was no more than a few steps away from her when he lifted his right hand to strike, his anger carrying him far beyond reason.
The crowd gasped, realizing his intention, and Lord Whickerton tightened his grip upon his son, his teeth grinding together as his eyes shot to Drake.
Drake merely shook his head, urging the other man to stay where he was, before his attention snapped back to Leonora and Gillingham.
To his relief, Leonora did not flinch. She did not cower or retreat. She still stood there, chin lifted and shoulders thrown back. Her hands were still balled into fists, and although she barely moved, Drake could see that she was preparing herself…as he had taught her.