by Wendy Vella
“I was rude and my words unjust, and to my shame I never once begged your forgiveness.”
She studied him for long seconds, and Leo saw her cousin then. Nick could reduce a person to silence with just such a look, and Elizabeth also had that knack. Leo suddenly felt exposed, as if she could see all those places inside him where vulnerabilities lurked.
“I forgave you for that many years ago, my lord. You were hurting, and pain makes us do things we normally would not.”
Why did he believe she spoke those words from experience? Who had hurt her, and why did that thought bother him so much?
“What I could not forgive was that you gave her power over you even when she was gone. You let her change the man you had always been.”
While he stood there reeling from her words, she walked away without a backward glance.
Chapter Two
Miss Elizabeth Whitlow didn’t exactly snatch her fingers from the grasp of Lord Bowers, but it was a near thing. She did not like men who were overzealous in their attentions, and this man was most definitely one of those.
“My dearest Miss Whitlow, if I may request a dance this evening.”
“I shall of course be honored,” Beth lied, then moved on, placing her hand on the sleeve of her cousin. They were walking around the ballroom. She had returned from her interlude with Lord Vereton to find her cousin wandering aimlessly. He was like that when Grace, his wife, was not at his side.
“That man is a fool, and I will never accept his offer for your hand while I still have breath in my body.”
“My sentiments exactly, Nick, however I must put up with him as it would be impolite of me to tell him what I actually think.”
“I could tell him for you if you’d let me.”
“He is harmless enough. Now, tell me how your dear wife is?”
“I’m sure she is ailing for something, but hiding it from me because I have told her I want to leave town so she can rest in the country air.”
Her cousin was the Earl of Attwood. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, he was in her opinion one of the most handsome men in society, and had once been sought after by many a gimlet-eyed mama as a matrimonial prospect for their daughters. However, he married Grace, and after a tumultuous beginning they’d fallen deeply in love, and he was now succumbing to panic as she carried their first child.
“She did not look unwell when I saw her two days ago. In fact, she appeared the picture of health. There can surely be no reason to leave before the season has ended.”
“I want to leave, she does not.”
Beth watched him survey the people before them, and knew he saw nothing, as his mind was focused on his wife, who had decided to stay at home this evening due to fatigue.
“From what I understand, tiredness is normal during pregnancy, Nick. Surely Grace knows what is best for her at this stage in the proceedings?”
“She refused to let me stay home with her, stating she wanted to sleep, and that I was not a restful person in my current mood.”
“She has a point there,” Beth teased him. “And to be perfectly honest you are not the best company, but were you not here I would be forced to converse with people like that idiot Lord Bowers.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry if I am preoccupied, Beth, it is simply that I worry Grace will hurt herself if she does not slow down. I want to take her away from here so she will be forced to, but she is refusing.”
“If she is healthy then leave her be, Nick. She will do nothing to harm the baby, and as I understand it, she is not due to have said baby for another five months.”
Her cousin shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
Beth looked around, and wondered if Lord Vereton had gone. Had seeing his beloved Harriet forced him to flee? The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. That a man such as he could still, after many years, be uncomfortable around Harriet was ridiculous. But then, Beth had no measure to understand how he felt, as she’d never felt that way about anyone—and never would, she vowed.
Harriet was a terrible flirt, and always had been. Beth was sure more hearts had been broken at her hand than just Lord Vereton’s. The man was a fool to still care for her, but then she’d observed that often men were fools when it came to women.
“What was that sound for?”
“What sound?” Beth said.
“The despairing moan sound.”
“I did not moan despairingly!”
“No, actually you did, sort of a…” He moaned.
“I’m sure you are mistaken, cousin.”
“No,” he smiled, “that was fairly accurate actually.”
“If you must know, I was thinking derogatory thoughts about your fellow man.”
“What have we done now, and who do I have to punch?”
Beth always felt a little thrill when her cousin came to her defense; it had not always been the case. For many years theirs had been a strained and distant relationship, and like her, he had been alone.
“Nothing to me personally, Nick, just a general annoyance.”
“We can be annoying, Grace tells me that, but to be fair so can you women.”
Beth had to concede there. Some of her sex were very silly indeed.
“Tell Grace I shall call tomorrow and keep her company.”
“Excellent, and you can tell if she is really all right.”
“Lord have mercy.” Beth looked at the ceiling. “She is well, Nick, leave it alone or you will drive the woman mad.”
He exhaled loudly. “I cannot help it.”
“Try.”
“Easier said than done, I fear.”
“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Beth teased him again.
“I was an arrogant fool before,” Nick said. “Grace is the reason I wake smiling instead of scowling now, Beth.”
“Oh Lord, you just made me cry,” Beth whispered, digging into her reticule for a handkerchief.
His laugh was a soft chuckle, then he sobered, his eyes focused on something. “I have no idea why that woman would be in London at this time, when the season is all but over. I hope she doesn’t try to reacquaint herself with Leo.”
Beth realized he was looking at Harriet Hyndmarsh. She was smiling, and it only added to her beauty. Petite, exquisite, and a venomous harpy. The woman had been torturing men for years.
“He’s an adult, Nick.” He’s also seen her and hopefully gotten over the shock. “I’m sure he can handle himself, and if not, then he’s more of a fool than I realized.”
“That’s harsh,” her cousin studied her. “Come to think of it, you and Leo have always treated each other with the barest civility. Care to tell me why?”
“I am no more uncivil with him than any of the others. Men are fools over a pretty face, and it merely turns them into besotted idiots.”
“You are quite scathing of my fellow man, cousin. I have never asked why you do not wish to wed, and indeed have been turning away suitors for years. Care to enlighten me?”
Beth’s stomach clenched at Nick’s words. She had said no to every suitor and he had allowed her to do so. No one would ever know why she had no wish to marry, as she would carry that secret with her to the grave.
“I have never found a man worthy of the title husband.” She dismissed his words casually, and hoped he would follow her lead. “To enforce my case against men, I will point to the idiot behavior of your friend when Lady Hyndmarsh broke his heart.”
She felt her cousin’s eyes on the side of her face, but Beth kept hers forward. He had once cared little about her decision not to marry, but now... now he cared about her, and because of that he wanted her happy, and for this she was grateful, but she had no wish to marry, nor tell him the reasons why.
“Leo is, or should I say was, an emotional man. He believed himself deeply in love with that woman. You cannot blame him for being hurt, surely?”
“Blame him for that, no.”
“Then what?”
“It matters not, m
y point is men do silly things when faced with a pretty woman.”
“Present company excluded, of course,” Nick drawled.
“Of course.”
“Well play nice now, my dearest cousin, as Leo is about to arrive, and seeing Lady Hyndmarsh will do little to improve his mood.”
Why she suddenly felt her heart thud hard inside her chest, Beth had no idea. She and Lord Vereton were—or at least had always been—enemies.
Chapter Three
Beth watched the man prowl toward them. He had a lithe grace that made his movements seem easy as he walked through the crowd. His eyes were moving from left to right; the color of a starless night, they held their usual cynical expression. Tonight he wore a deep blue jacket, tailored to fit his broad shoulders, and an elegantly knotted necktie. His waistcoat was blue also, with a deep burgundy stripe. She’d always thought him handsome, but there was something else to the Marquis of Vereton. Something untamed in his eyes and the way he carried himself. A wild side that had him caring little what people thought of him. He usually said and did as he pleased, and Beth knew he had plenty of women making fools of themselves over him. Which begged the question again as to why he’d allowed a silly one to break him.
“Stop scowling, Leo.”
“I like scowling,” he said to Nick. “It scares people away.”
“And yet here we stand... people.”
The scowl grew darker, his eyes moving over the crowd.
“You’re not people, you’re a friend. Totally different.”
“I’m relieved,” Nick drawled. “However, I’m sure my cousin is people.”
Leo passed his eyes over Beth before returning their focus to the crowd.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Whitlow.”
“And now if you will excuse me, I must speak with Lord Loxton—he has just arrived. I shall return shortly. Be nice to my cousin, Leo, and you be nice to him, Beth.”
“I’m always nice,” they said in unison, then laughed.
Beth hadn’t seen Lord Vereton smile for some time, and the effect was quite something. His face softened from the cynical look he usually wore, making him seem younger, and the lines around his eyes told her he knew how to laugh; he just didn’t do so in her company.
She heard the breath he inhaled and followed his gaze to find Lady Hyndmarsh heading their way.
“The first meeting will be the worst; after that everything will go easier,” she said softly.
“I would rather just go on ignoring her, but I must thank you again for your support. I’m sure in your eyes I seem something of a weak-kneed fool.”
“Not precisely weak-kneed....”
He laughed as she’d wanted him too.
Beth did something impulsive then, and slipped her hand through his arm. He clamped it to his side, and there they stood, together, watching Harriet approach.
She was beautiful, right to the toes of her tiny satin slippers. Dark hair, styled elaborately, skin like porcelain, and lips rose red—although, Beth wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t used some kind of enhancement there. Her dress was cut daringly low, which displayed plenty of her bosom as she slipped into a deep curtsey before them. Her eyes were pools of lilac and appeared soft and beguiling, which was far from the truth. This woman never did anything without calculating the benefits to her. She was cold, callous, and shallow, and Beth had loathed her since they stepped into society together.
“Lord Vereton.” Her voice was a breathy whisper. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.”
He bowed, but did not take the hand she held out to him, which was bad of him, but Beth enjoyed the flicker of surprise on the woman’s face. Which was likely bad of her. Her hand was still pressed to his side, trapped under his arm.
“You’ve met Miss Whitlow, I believe, Lady Hyndmarsh?”
“Of course.” She dragged her gaze from him, and reluctantly settled it on Beth. They both curtsied.
“My fiancée.”
Beth rose slowly. He had not just said what she thought he had, surely?
“Fiancée?” Harriet looked stunned, which quickly turned into displeasure. “I knew nothing of this!”
“I’m not sure why you would,” Lord Vereton drawled as he looked at Beth. He took her limp free hand in his and kissed the back of it. Beth was too stunned to stop him. “After all, she only accepted a few days ago; we have yet to make the announcement public.”
“My lord.” Beth found her wits. “What are—”
“I know, darling.” He squeezed her hand so hard, she had to fight not to wince. “We said we would tell no one yet. But my love for you can no longer be hidden. I want everyone to share in our joy.”
He was an excellent actor, Beth would give him that. She would also give him a great deal more when she had him alone.
“Love!” Harriet glared at Beth. “But you once loved me!”
“I thought I loved you,” he corrected gently, and to Beth’s mind, condescendingly, “and then I realized my error. I was young, and that kind of youthful infatuation easily passes. The love I now feel for my fiancée is different... lasting.”
Oh he was good, Beth thought. She almost believed the adoring look he was sending her way. Almost, but of course she knew better. She and Lord Vereton did not like each other at all. What was he thinking, speaking as he had. The repercussions would be horrible for them both.
“Infatuation! B-but you adored me!”
Harriet was not pleased, her words now a shriek. Gone were the perfectly modulated tones. It was funny, Beth thought, looking at the woman’s twisted face, she looked almost ugly now.
“Come now, Lady Hyndmarsh, can we not be friends? I understand this is painful for you, but surely you did not expect me to still be infatuated with you... six years on?”
Beth tried to shake herself out of the shock and say something, but her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Chapter Four
Leo wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed him to claim Miss Whitlow as his fiancée. Madness perhaps? An ailment that was addling his wits? Or the simpering look of adoration in the eyes of Lady Hyndmarsh, which he now knew was a lie. Whatever foolish lapse in judgment allowed those words to fall from his mouth, he knew, was about to cost him dearly.
“B-but, I had thought... ”
Leo knew what words Harriet had been about to utter. Knew that her husband had passed away leaving her alone to pursue whatever and whoever she wished, and that he was part of those wishes.
“Yes?” He raised a polite brow. “What did you think, Lady Hyndmarsh?” Leo didn’t dare look at Miss Whitlow, as surely she was breathing fire. For now it was enough that she had yet to blow his cover. Her hand was in the crook of his arm, and he wondered if perhaps shock was holding her silent.
“I had hoped....”
“My dear Harriet, are you well? That is the second sentence you have been unable to finish. Can I get you some refreshment, or is there someone I can collect to see to you?”
Leo coughed at the simpering kindness in Miss Whitlow’s words. It seemed her silence was over.
“I need nothing, thank you. Your news is simply something of a shock to me.”
Leo wondered how he’d ever been fooled by this woman. She was calculating and had sold herself to the highest purse three days after he had declared his love for her. Looking into that pretty face now that the shock of her reappearance had subsided, he felt nothing.
“Well then, if we can be of no further assistance, we shall take our leave, as my fiancée and I wish to dance.”
Leo didn’t flinch as Miss Whitlow dug her nails into his arm. He deserved whatever punishment she meted out. He led them to the dance floor and swung her into his arms as a waltz began.
“I don’t d-dance the waltz,” she said, quickly trying to extract herself from his arms.
“And yet you will now, with me, as this is the only place we can speak in whispers and actually hear each other.”
“Relax, woman, I will not hurt you, for pity’s sake.”
He looked down as she made a choking sound. Her face was pale, breathing suddenly rapid, and she was staring at his necktie.
“Miss Whitlow... Beth, are you well?”
She managed a shaky nod, then closed her eyes.
“I do not like to waltz,” she said again.
“Then we shall stop. Forgive me, I did not realize your words were the truth. I thought perhaps it was just me you had no wish to waltz with.”
She exhaled, her breath brushing the skin of his neck; it was a strangely unsettling sensation.
“No, I will be all right, and you are right, we have much to discuss.”
Leo was relieved to see her color returning, and with it her caustic tongue.
“I have no idea what idiotic notion you took into your head to declare us betrothed, but I wish you to undo it at once.”
He looked down into her blue eyes and saw they were narrowed and as warm as ice.
“I will, of course, but if you will just hear me out.”
“I am all ears as to what madness could possibly have induced that moment of insanity.”
“You are one of the most sarcastic women I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
“Me!” She snapped out the word. “You dare to insult me, when I stood by and let you declare to your ladylove that we are betrothed.”
“She is not my ladylove, and I’m sure you shouldn’t be speaking in such terms.”
“Why should I not? I am twenty-seven, and old enough to speak as I wish. I will not be told by you how to speak.”
“Ah, but as your fiancé surely I have some say in the matter?” Leo heard her teeth snap together so hard he winced. She’d always brought out the devil in him. She then stomped on his foot. “I’m sure that hurt you more than me, Miss Whitlow, but I shall yelp if it makes you feel better.”