“So,” her father said the moment the coach door was closed. “What do you think of Rochdale?”
“He is polite.”
“Ha!” her father answered. “Polite.” He sat back in his seat and looked at the window. “I like him. You will receive him.”
“Why bother with preliminaries? Why not order me to marry him and we will have the ceremony tomorrow?”
“I am,” her father said, swinging his head around to pin her. “Unless you land something better, you’ll take his offer when he makes it.”
“Why are you certain he will?” And what would he say if he knew Rochdale had already made his offer? Well, his order, to be precise.
His response was to grin at her as if she was daft in the head.
“I’m not so certain,” she replied, looking at her own window.
There was a long moment of silence between them and then he said, “I owe him, you know. When you eloped, he brought you back. Unfortunate that they dueled and Paccard died. If you hadn’t been so foolish, it would have been better for both men.”
A weight formed in Leonie’s chest. She curled her fingers, feeling her nails through her kid gloves. She spoke, choosing her words carefully. “You have never said this.”
“I’ve thought it. Everyone knew it. Two good men. One gone and the other...?” He faced Leonie. “His career was ruined. You play fast and loose, daughter.”
“Like mother like daughter?” she challenged.
But instead of an angry reply, her father just stretched to make himself more comfortable in the seat. “Mayhap. Your mother is never satisfied. What of you, daughter dear? Do you know when enough is enough?”
His assessment startled her. “How do I answer such a question?”
“You don’t. You do as I say. I meant my words when I told you this is the last Season, Leonie. Do you know what they call you? The Spinster Heiress.”
“Miss Reverly and Miss Holwell are also addressed by that term. It is not so much our unmarried state as a put-down of who we are. The other girls are jealous.”
“Not any longer. The three of you have been around too long. Oh, don’t protest,” he said as she started to open her mouth. “I know that I’m as guilty as you are for your not marrying. I wish we’d brought in Baynton last year. We almost had him.”
“You make it sound as if we are fishing—”
“We are! And you, my lovely daughter, are the bait. I should have made you accept Gentry’s, Oldton’s, and Phillips’s offers when they made them the first year, but I let your success overrule my better judgement. I was certain you could fetch a better title than what those lads had. And you will, if you take Rochdale.”
“I’m not comfortable around Lord Rochdale.”
“I’m grateful to him. Granted, I would rather he hadn’t put a bullet in Paccard, but I am relieved he fetched you back.”
She shifted in her seat. “All he wants is money.”
“Aye, that is true. I never said he wasn’t sensible.”
“Then pay him off. Why make me marry him?”
“Because he asked for your hand.”
“Was I to be consulted?” She knew she sounded petulant.
“I’m telling you now. I want you married. Rochdale will take you. I expect you to encourage his suit. You become a countess and he will have the money he needs to repair the reputation of the title. The old earl ran up gambling debts and bled the estate dry. It is a good bargain for both of you, and one that is fair to him.”
He had also accepted the blame for Arthur’s death, a small voice said inside Leonie. If anyone knew the truth, she did not know what the consequences would be. Could she be charged with murder? Certainly, there would be an inquiry.
For the shortest of seconds, she debated telling her father, of relieving herself of the burden of her secret. The horror of it.
Then again, once she’d arrived in London, a world away from Calcutta, she had put it out of her mind. She had been that shallow. With the help of her occasional nip of brandy, well, she’d managed.
