Again, the small crowd gasped, and yet, Leonora could see almost imperceptible nods here and there.
“Be wary,” she continued on, offering advice based upon her own experience. “Do not allow yourselves to be intimidated. Do not find fault with yourselves. Walk around with open eyes and see what is there, not what you want there to be.”
Turning to look at her father and brother, Leonora smiled. “Believe me, there are many decent men in the world. Men who are kind and good. Men who will listen because they truly care to know what you think. Men who not only treat you as their equal, but truly see you as such.” Tears began to prick the backs of her eyes as Leonora turned, stepped back and looked at Drake, his warm gray eyes steady upon hers. “Men who fight for you and with you. Men who give you the strength to stand up for yourself. Men who let you fight your own battles and allow you to feel strong.”
A deep breath lifted Drake’s chest, and the way his eyes continued to look into hers made Leonora’s pulse jump. Indeed, he was such a man, the kind one only ever dreamed of, but never found in reality. Or did one?
Had she?
Blinking against the tears pushing to the surface, Leonora turned her gaze away, reminding herself why she was here. “Women of London,” she said with a bright smile, allowing her gaze to sweep over her family, from her grandmother to her mother and to her beloved sisters, each strong in their own way, “stand tall and demand respect. Believe me, you deserve it. I’ve come here tonight to remind you of it and to warn you.” Leonora looked down at Lord Gillingham as he began pushing to his feet, still staggering, unable to stand tall. “Steer well clear of this man. He is not who he pretends to be, and he does not deserve any of you. Any of us. Think of me what you will but know that I’m speaking the truth. After all, I had nothing to gain from saying what I did tonight. All I wanted was for the truth to be known and to protect other young women like me from allowing themselves to be fooled. You deserve better.”
Nodding her head, Leonora inhaled a deep breath, glad that it was over now. Yes, she was now ruined, something she had feared for over a year. Yet, now, that it had happened, she could not help but feel liberated somehow. The truth had such an effect, did it not? It set one free in a way lies never could.
“Hear! Hear!”
Leonora turned and found herself looking at Grandma Edie. Her wrinkled face was aglow, and she held her cane in her hand, pointing it upward like a warrior might hoist his sword after battle. “Hear! Hear!”
Leonora wanted to weep and throw herself into her grandmother’s arms. Then, however, before she could take a single step toward her, she found herself taken aback even more when her family began applauding her, wide smiles of pride and approval upon their faces, their eyes shining with tears. One by one, they came forward, embracing her, whispering their support.
“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Christina rejoiced, grinning from ear to ear before she hugged Leonora tightly. “I’m so very proud of you, Leo.”
“Well done, sister,” Troy grumbled, the look upon his face one of regret and shame. Leonora knew that in his own way her brother had always looked out for her, for them. Somehow, she had not yet found a way to communicate with him the way she did with her sisters. Still, she had never doubted her brother’s love for her despite his own strong beliefs in etiquette and decorum, and tonight, he had not hesitated to come to her side. Leonora loved him for it.
She loved them all.
Always had.
And always would.
No matter what.
But she also loved Drake. It was a simple truth, but one without a simple answer. Yet, only those who asked questions could ever hope to be given answers.
Perhaps it was time that she faced her greatest challenge yet.
Chapter Forty-Two
An Exceptional Woman
After her family had ushered Leonora out of the drawing room, Drake lingered, then returned to the ballroom, curious to see how London society would react to Leonora’s daring confession. Certainly, there were those who condemned her for everything she had done as well as countless things she had never done. As always, gossips were in their element, stretching the truth and adding to it until it was barely recognizable. Still, Drake could see a lot of thoughtful faces as well. Perhaps Leonora’s courage would be rewarded after all. Perhaps if her honesty could spare a single young woman from making a life-altering mistake, then it would have been worth it.
Drake was certain of it.
Yet, he could not help but worry about how Leonora’s life was about to change. For even if some people might approve of her ideas, her views, society had a way of adhering to its own rules that did not allow for exceptions. Indeed, everyone would be afraid not to cut her, worried that if they showed favor toward her, they would be next to suffer the consequences.
“What an exceptional woman!”
Frowning, Drake turned to see a young man standing beside him. His dark brown hair looked a bit disheveled, and his cravat was coming undone as though he had been tugging upon it all evening.
“I assume you are more intimately acquainted with the family,” the man remarked, lifting the glass in his hand and gesturing toward the arched doorway through which the Whickertons had left.
Suspicion trailed down Drake’s spine. “Why would you assume that?”
The stranger smiled. “I suppose it was in the way you looked at her.” He nodded in approval of his own words. “Not unlike a husband would.” His brows rose pointedly.
Drake’s frown deepened. “Pardon me, but have we met before?” He could not help the icy tone in his voice.
The stranger laughed. “I suppose I have broken yet another of society’s unwritten rules by addressing you absent a formal introduction?” Amusement mingled with annoyance as he spoke. “I apologize if I have offended you.” He formally inclined his head, the ghost of a teasing grin upon his face. “My name is Thorne Sharpe. I’m that merchant people keep whispering about.”
“Pemberton,” Drake mumbled, uncertain what to make of this man. He had to admit, especially after tonight, he could not help but look favorably upon those who dared to be different.
“It’s a pleasure,” the other man replied, then frowned. “So, are you a baron or a viscount? Or—?”
“A marquess,” Drake offered before the man could continue his enumeration.
Mr. Sharpe nodded. “Good to know.” He glanced toward the arched doorway once more. “So, do you intend to marry her?”
Drake regarded the man with curiosity. “I must say, you are quite direct.”
Mr. Sharpe shrugged. “I find that it saves one from useless chitchat.” A bit of a grin came to his face. “It is also quite effective in ridding oneself of unwanted company.”
Drake felt the urge to smile. “Since you were the one to address me, I am assuming you do not consider me unwanted company, or am I wrong?”
Mr. Sharpe laughed. “Not at all. Indeed, I ventured over here because you look like a reasonable sort of man,” he shrugged, “and on top of that I was simply curious.”
Drake nodded. “I hope you do not expect an answer.”
“Although I would prefer one,” Mr. Sharpe replied, “I did not truly expect one, no.” A companionable smile came to his face as he looked at Drake. “I shall keep an eye on the marriage announcements in the paper to satisfy my curiosity.” His brows rose in a bit of a wicked way before he nodded his head to Drake and then walked away.