something?”
He only wants to speak to you.
Smiling, Lord Gillingham shrugged. “Were you not? Perhaps I was mistaken, but to me it looked as though you were observing those around you most curiously. I remember thinking more than once that I wished to know what you were seeing for whenever I looked where you did, I saw nothing noteworthy.”
Breathe in and out.
Leonora could not deny that Lord Gillingham’s interest pleased her. Yes, he still stood a bit too close for her liking; yet, he behaved in a most respectful fashion. Indeed, he was a kind man. The kind of man she could see herself marrying one day, could she not?
Still, the moment her lips parted to form a reply, Leonora found herself glancing over her shoulder at the arched entryway. Why, she did not dare admit to herself, but instead forced her attention back to the young lord looking at her with such open admiration. Yes, she ought to focus on the here and now and learn to enjoy herself again when in conversation with another. After all, Lord Gillingham was the first man to ever inquire after her thoughts in such an earnest way. In Leonora’s experience, most gentlemen did not much care for what a lady thought.
Concentrating on her breathing, Leonora managed to make it through the evening with Lord Gillingham rarely leaving her side. They made light conversation, discussing the ball and its attendees as well as Leonora’s fascination with human nature. Although it seemed that Lord Gillingham had no personal interest in the matter, he listened kindly and asked appropriate questions. Indeed, the evening passed in an almost pleasant fashion and Leonora felt herself relax with each moment ticking by, her nightmares locked away securely.
Nevertheless, the moment Leonora returned home that night and stepped into her bedchamber, every small measure of accomplishment she had felt fell away when her gaze came to rest on a small envelope resting upon her vanity.
Cautiously, she moved closer, picking it up and turning it over in her hands. She knew not why, but for some reason the very sight of it made her catch her breath. As it bore no seal or writing of any kind, she could not be certain who it was from. Still, the moment she opened it, her heart skipped a beat.
Her gaze fell upon an unfamiliar handwriting, neat and carefully executed. The letter held no address nor signature.
I apologize for the intrusion, especially since I have no news to report yet. However, a thought occurred to me that I wish to share with you. Please let me know when you will next attend a social function so that I can make plans accordingly.
For a moment, Leonora stared at the few lines written there. Clearly, the sender expected her to know who he was even without adding his signature.
Lord Pemberton.
Leonora was certain of it, and she could not suppress a smile from claiming her face at the thought that he was there, right next door, in his house, thinking of her, thinking of how to help her. It was a level of dedication Leonora would never have expected from a stranger, from a new acquaintance. Yet, ever since they had met, Lord Pemberton had continued to surprise her at every turn.
In a good way.
In a very good way.
It took Leonora a moment to realize that she had not yet even contemplated what it was he wished to share with her. Reading between the lines, it seemed clear that he had not yet gathered sufficient information with regard to Lord Hamilton’s guest list upon the night of the masquerade.
A thought occurred to me that I wish to share with you. What could that mean? What thought?
Beginning to pace the length of her room, Leonora mulled every word of his message over in her head, trying to make sense of what he had hinted at. Was there a way for her to determine what he meant to speak to her about from these lines alone?
Frustratingly so, Leonora did not think it was possible. She would have to wait until they could speak to each other face-to-face. The thought was utterly frustrating, though. How was she expected to wait? How was she expected to sleep tonight not knowing? Yes, she ought to sit down and pen a note she could send back to him upon morning.
That was what she ought to do.
Leonora paused in her step and her gaze moved to the window, behind which lay their darkened garden, along