Lord Noble

by Wendy Vella

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You did what?”

  Beth sat opposite the marquis as he attempted to explain to her cousin why he had done what he had. The air had grown chilly since leaving the ball, and the carriage, while luxurious, did little to stop the cold from seeping into her bones.

  “Here.” She watched Lord Vereton reach under the seat and retrieve a blanket, which he flicked open and then lowered over her legs.

  “Thank you.” Surprised by his gesture, Beth nestled into the warmth.

  “It just happened, Nick,” he continued. “But as Miss Whitlow has agreed to stay betrothed until the season ends in—”

  “I know when the season ends!” her enraged cousin interrupted.

  “Excellent, that makes things easier then.”

  Beth swallowed her smile. She hadn’t had a great deal to do with Lord Vereton, but the few times she’d observed his interaction with her cousin, she’d enjoyed it… silently, of course. They teased each other mercilessly.

  “Leo, I am angry right now. In fact, anger does not begin to cover what I am experiencing. You have put my cousin in an incomparable situation, which for once is not of her making.”

  “Oh, now I must object.” Beth stepped into the conversation. “When have I ever placed myself in a compromising situation?”

  Lord Vereton actually winked at her as Nick’s eyes swung from him to her.

  “And you!” He pointed a finger at her. “Why did you not simply deny this fool’s words?

  Why indeed. Perhaps because finally she saw a way out of the constant attention she received from men who wanted her dowry. A brief respite to actually enjoy the remainder of the season.

  “Likely it was the shock,” Lord Vereton said on her behalf. “Or… secretly she has always thought I am the man for her. Either way, she played along.”

  “I did not think that, and you will stop deluding yourself that I ever could,” Beth said.

  “My heart is broken.”

  Looking at the large, handsome marquis sprawled along the opposite seat, she found it hard to believe anyone could break his heart. He was always so arrogant and cynical. His view on life, Nick had once told her, was to see it through narrow eyes. He hides his true self behind sarcasm and disdain, Beth. It worries me.

  “Will you shut up, Leo! This is no laughing matter. My cousin is now supposedly betrothed to you, and I am now a party to that lie, as will be my wife.”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “I do not lie to Grace!”

  “I’m sorry, Nick.” The marquis was suddenly serious. “It was never my intention to cause you or Miss Whitlow harm, and yet in my stupidity I have done just that. Forgive me.”

  Beth was fairly sure any woman would forgive him anything with that particular look, however she was not any woman, and had no weakness for tolerating men, unless it was her cousin.

  “Nick, I have agreed to go along with this charade for three weeks, and no longer. In that time you will not be approached by any men who wish to have my dowry, so perhaps you can think about that for a minute. I will not have men like Humperdingle and Scoffton making cakes of themselves because they are supposedly enamored by me. You have no idea how freeing that will be.”

  Her cousin sat back in his seat. “I had not thought of that side benefit.”

  “Do you get many?” The marquis asked his friend.

  “My cousin is a wealthy woman, Leo. There are many who need such wealth. Not that Beth isn’t a wonderful woman, and beautiful,” Nick rushed to add.

  “It’s all right, cousin, I know I am well past the age of being sought after for my looks, and believe me, I am glad of it. I have no wish to wed, as you know.”

  “You’re twenty-seven,” Lord Vereton said. “Beautiful and intelligent—of course men would be interested in you for reasons other than your dowry.”

  Beth looked away from his disturbing eyes. “I am not a fool, but thank you, my lord.”

  “At least you two have formed a truce. That makes my life easier,” Nick said. “Two of my favorite people can now be in the same room without shooting daggers at each other and trying to cut each other to the quick with words.”

  “That was my fault again, but we have rectified that also.”

  “We can be acquaintances now… well, for three weeks.” Beth smiled. “After that I am sure we will once again draw swords. But, there is also the possibility that this will give me what I have always wanted.”

  “What?” Both men looked at her.

  “To retire from society,” Beth said softly. “To live in the country, and travel to London only should I wish it. I could be so heartbroken after Lord Vereton breaks our betrothal that I can never face him again.”

  Lord Vereton actually shook his head, as if to clear it. “Why would you want that? To leave your friends and family, and society?”

  “My reasons are private, but they have been clear to Nick for some time.”

  “She only comes to town to please me and Aunt Jane, Leo. If I allowed it she would spend all her time in the country.”

  She felt Lord Vereton’s eyes on her as the carriage continued. Sensed his curiosity, but Beth ignored him, and kept her eyes on the window.

  “There seems little I can do about this matter without causing a scandal, or Beth a great deal of discomfort.” Nick sighed. “But I will be watching, and when this faux betrothal ends, it will be all your fault, Leo. I will not allow anything to tarnish Beth, even though she sees it as a chance to leave society.”

  “You have my word.”

  The next few weeks promised to be interesting, Beth thought, and for the first time since entering society she did not have to worry about men fawning over her and forcing their attentions on her. She loathed this, loathed men touching her or getting too close; it brought back memories she would prefer stay dormant.

  She felt a smile tug her lips. Maybe, just maybe, this would be a season that did not make her anxious, and even better—it could possibly be her last.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Leo hadn’t slept well, so he decided on an early morning ride through the park. The icy wind had numbed his face, and ruffled his hair, but done little to clear his head. He was riddled with guilt. Miss Whitlow had handled his sudden declaration that she was his fiancée with far more ease than he’d deserved. In the clear light of day, he realized he’d imposed upon her hugely, and had no right to do so simply because he’d wanted to save his pride in front of that harlot Harriet Hyndmarsh.

  “Alliteration at such an hour, Leo, and with your brain frozen too,” he said, letting himself out the park gates. At least I’m still thinking clearly.

  Humming, he let his horse wander through the streets. London was just starting to come to life, people scurrying about wrapped in yards of clothing in deference to the chilly morning air.

  Why did Beth want to leave society? Why did she not waltz, and how had he not noticed that before now? She had seemed scared when he pulled her closer to dance, or had he imagined it? These thoughts had been going round and round inside his head since he’d declared her his fiancée. He’d always known her as Beth, as Nick called her that, but until now he’d never used the name… he would, because if they were to carry this off, they should at least seem comfortable with each other. Of course, she may think differently, and he was looking forward to debating the issue with her.

  Heading down a narrow lane, Leo chose the long way home, as he was not ready to face his empty house. He rarely felt lonely, in fact he’d rejoiced when his mother had moved in with his sister and her husband… but sometimes when he wasn’t looking, a longing for companionship crept over him. Of course there was always plenty of that to be found, but not always the kind he wanted. It didn’t help that his closest friends were now married and did not have the time to spend with him. However, Leo had grown to respect and admire their wives. Not one of them could be termed a proper society miss, or indeed conformist, and yet he knew they had fallen in lov
e with their respective partners because of those differences.

  The clop of hooves told him a carriage approached from behind. He moved slightly to the left to allow it to pass, but as it did, he looked in the window and saw her. What was Miss Elizabeth Whitlow doing, travelling about in her carriage at such an hour, when surely she should still be in her bed, her lovely body warm and comfortable.

  “And that is more than enough of that, Leo,” he reminded himself.

  He wasn’t sure why he did it, or what madness drove him, but he was soon following from a safe distance. She of course had every right to do as she wished, and who was he to state otherwise, and yet something niggled at him to do as he was. Boredom perhaps? Curiosity? Whatever the label, he wanted to know where she was going at such an hour, because he was fairly sure it was not a morning call.

  His mind settled into thinking about the woman in the carriage before him as they journeyed through London. What possible reason could she have to want to live in solitude in the country… alone and unwed? It made little sense. Why leave society? Why did she not wish to marry?

  Odd, is what it is.

  As fifty minutes stretched into an hour, he was ready at any moment—when sanity returned—to turn around and return to his house, but as the carriage rolled on, Leo continued to tail it.

  When it turned down a street he hung back, watching as it stopped before several shops. The door opened, and out stepped Beth. Her dress was lemon, and her spencer rich emerald, as were her gloves. As usual she looked cool, calm, and collected. But now there was a little something extra that he saw in her… her beauty. His only excuse for not seeing it earlier was the irritation he felt whenever he was in her company. That and the fact he was obviously an idiot. A second woman stepped from the carriage. He did not recognize her, which suggested she was the maid.

  “Boy.” Leo signaled to a scruffy little urchin who was walking down the street, his eyes focused on the ground, no doubt checking for lost coins. He scurried over. “If you care for my horse until I return,” he flipped him a coin, “I shall give you the same.”

  His face was thin, cheekbones pronounced, and eyes large in his face. Dirty clothes hung on his body, and there was a bruise on his chin.

  “Who did this?” Leo gently raised the chin with a finger.

  “Me da.”

  “Did you deserve it?”

  “No more than any of them.”

  Leo shot a glance to where Miss Whitlow was now approaching a shop. Was she purchasing something that she wanted no one else to see? A secret potion of some kind… or a gift?

  “What are you about?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Not you, boy. Hold my horse, please, until I return. Walk him if you wish.”

  “I will do as you say.”

  Leo left the boy, and walked along the street. Clean, quiet, the shops seemed to have a variety of things for sale. The one Beth had just entered was painted a deep green, with gold lettering on the windows.

  “Elegant Accessories,” Leo said, reading the words. What would Beth be doing here? She had the funds to shop in the more fashionable establishments in London, so why travel for an hour to come to this street?

  Moving to the side of one window he looked in, and hoped no one he knew saw him doing so. She was at the counter speaking with another woman; they then moved out of sight through an opening behind. There did not appear to be anyone else inside, so he made his move. Opening the door as quietly as he could, relieved when he heard no bell, Leo entered, then moved to the counter. He could hear Beth’s voice.

  “How are the other ladies, Heather?”

  “They are well, Miss Whitlow, although Clara is still quiet, but each day she comes out of herself a bit more.”

  “Yes, she suffered terribly at that man’s hands. If only I were a man, I would give him the beating he gave her.”

  Beth wanted to be a man so she could thrash someone. Leo shook his head. Surely he was not hearing that right? The proper Miss Whitlow never spoke that way.

  “I would like someone to run him over in their carriage,” the other woman said.

  “Yes, that would suffice, Heather,” Beth added in that cool voice she used.

  He listened as they discussed people he did not know, and his curiosity grew. Leo began to understand that the women Beth mentioned had been mistreated by men, and that she had something to do with coming to their aid.

  “There is a young girl who comes in here often, Miss Whitlow. I’m sure she is suffering too. Her face is often bruised and her eyes have the look.”

  What look?

  “Have you tried to speak with her, Heather?”

  “Yes, but she just walks away.”

  “But the fact she keeps returning is surely an indication that she wants help,” Beth said.

  Leo looked around him, and saw the shelves filled with trimmings, bonnets, gloves, and handkerchiefs. What connection did Beth have with this shop?

  He was too late to move when he heard footsteps, so instead he walked to one side and inspected a shelf filled with delicate handkerchiefs.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  He turned and it was to Beth his eyes went. The color left her cheeks and her mouth fell open.

  “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Beth looked at the large nobleman standing beside the lace-edged handkerchiefs that her girls had spent hours trimming.

  “I followed you.”

  He could have lied, said he was passing, or purchasing a gift, anything; instead he told the truth and it shocked her.

  “What? Why?”

  He slapped his hat softly against one thigh, as if he had nothing of importance to occupy his time, and standing in a shop filled with women’s accessories was an everyday occurrence.

  “I have no idea, it seemed like a good idea at the time, then as your carriage rolled on, my curiosity was tweaked.”

  He gave her a smile that flashed his teeth and made his black eyes twinkle, which was surely not possible. Odious man, Beth thought, wondering how she was to get rid of him before he realized where he stood, and what this shop and the house behind it actually stood for.

  “Well un-tweak it,” she spluttered as her anger climbed. “How dare you do such a… such an invasive thing! I insist you leave this establishment at once!”

  He kept smiling in the face of her anger, and Beth dug her toes into her boots to stop herself from closing the distance between them and slapping him.

  “Yes, you are likely right, but my only defense is that in light of our recent engagement I simply cannot keep my distance from you.”

  “Oh, Miss Whitlow,” Heather cried, increasing Beth’s need to harm this man, “that is wonderful news.”

  “Ignore him, Heather,” Beth snapped. “The man is unstable.”

  “Oh now, my love, that is unfair,” he drawled. “She is peeved as we had a small disagreement last night.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” she mouthed.

  He smiled. “And now that I am here,” he added, reaching behind him while keeping his eyes on Beth. “I shall take the time to purchase some gifts.” He picked up the first handkerchief he reached and waved it in front of him. It was not lost on either of them that he appeared to be waving a white flag.

  He will need more than a handkerchief to save him, Beth thought.

  He wore black today, and it was the exact color of his hair and eyes. His shirt was white, and waistcoat silver. Which was ridiculously overstated for such an hour, Beth told herself.

  “You can purchase those in London.”

  “But I have heard the lace work here is second to none.”

  “You’ve heard no such thing,” Beth snapped. “You’re just doing this to annoy me, which is very rag-mannered of you considering I saved you from public humiliation when faced with your lost love.”

  “She is not my lost love,” he said, still in that infuriatingly calm voice.

  “
Yes, she is,” Beth gritted out. “And I insist you leave these premises at once.”

  He didn’t, of course.

  “Will you introduce me to your friend, Beth?”

  “Miss Whitlow,” she said, as he walked to the counter where Heather stood watching the byplay between them avidly. No doubt the rest of the girls would hear in exact detail what had taken place.

  “Miss Little,” Heather said, bobbing a curtsey. “And it is an honor of meet Miss Whitlow’s betrothed. We here are greatly in her debt; she is our savior.”

  Beth thought about groaning, but it was beneath her.

  “How is she your savior?”

  “That will do, thank you, Heather. Lord Vereton has no need of the details.”

  He flashed his teeth at Heather, and she sighed. It was such an obvious ploy Beth couldn’t help but tsk.

  “But I wish to hear all the details about it, my sweet.”

  “No, now leave.”

  Heather took one look at her patroness and closed her mouth. She then pretended to be busy inspecting the cabinet beside her.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Little,” Leo said, not deterred. “Are you responsible for this beautiful work?” He laid the handkerchief on the countertop.

  Heather nodded. “Some of the work is mine, but there are five of us who work on the things you see in the shop.”

  “Five.” Leo smiled again, and Heather blushed. “And you all live here?”

  “Desist in questioning Miss Little, please, Lord Vereton.”

  “I am merely observing polite conversation, Miss Whitlow. You should try it some time.”

  She wanted him out of there before his sharp mind started working. No one knew about this place, and Beth liked it that way.

  “I will just look around some more, if that is acceptable to you, Miss Little, as I have an aunt’s birthday approaching, and am sure I shall find some suitable gifts here.”

  “Who is the handkerchief for then?” Beth said.

  “A friend.” He winked at her, and she could do nothing to stop him walking away to inspect the other shelves and cabinets.