Lords Of Night Street Collection: Books 1-4

by Wendy Vella

  “You are a cad.”

  “Undoubtedly, and a great deal worse, but if you will desist in firing barbs at me for a minute, I shall explain what it is I have in mind.”

  Her lips formed a line and she looked left, focusing on the other couples, which Leo guessed was his cue to speak.

  “If you will allow the arrangement to stand for the remainder of the time we are here, I shall have it called off before we return to town for the next season. I will tell everyone you have broken the engagement and that I believe it is for the best, and there are no hard feelings, as we realized we would make a dismal married couple.”

  “Which will go terribly easy for you, but poor, maidenly Miss Whitlow will be pitied from afar... and not so far. And what of Nick, and my aunt, what will you say to them?”

  “I will explain all to Nick, and as your aunt is deaf, and spends most of her time sleeping rather than chaperoning you as she ought, I do not think she will be a problem. There is no other close family in London as I understand it, so the problems are limited. Mine are also thankfully out of town, so word will not reach them for some time.”

  She tensed, and he wondered if he’d hurt her in some way with the mention of family.

  “You may be Nick’s oldest friend, my lord, but I am his blood relative; he will not let this go easy on you. And I would thank you to never again speak in disparaging tones about my aunt.”

  “Forgive me, I should not have spoken about her that way. On the matter of your cousin, I have incurred his wrath too many times to count. I am sure he will forgive me... eventually.”

  “Which I’m sure you deserved.”

  “Do you always have the last word?”

  “Usually.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leo snorted. Damned if the woman wasn’t full of fire and backbone. He’d never taken the time to speak to her, other than that disastrous event he had relegated to the back of his mind.

  “You are welcome.”

  “Wonderful,” Beth added.

  She looked up at him, blue eyes now limpid and adoring.

  “What are you doing?” Leo had to swallow, as the look had his throat suddenly dry.

  “Practicing. Because if this charade is to continue, then I had best play my part, and like anything I do, I must do it to the best of my ability.”

  “You, Miss Whitlow, are a terrifying woman.”

  “I’m wondering if this could actually be just the thing for me now my anger has cooled.”

  “How so?” Leo looked down past her chin to the soft, pale swell of her breasts, and felt his pulse quicken. He’d never thought her anything but annoying, but suddenly he was noticing things about her, like her breasts. Decidedly odd.

  “Most evenings I am forced to converse with silly people or trip over foolish men declaring themselves enamored with me. I smile until my face hurts, when the reality is most are after my dowry, and have no concern for me at all.”

  “Surely not all the men who converse with you are after your dowry?”

  “Three quarters at least.”

  “I’m sure some are simply enamored with your beauty.”

  “Is that sarcasm, my lord?”

  “Yes. Now, if you were a marquis with a sizeable fortune and tolerable looks, you would have reason to complain. I am a hunted species, Miss Whitlow.”

  She made a little mewling noise that he didn’t think held any sympathy.

  “How perfectly horrible for you, my lord. To have women throwing themselves at your large feet.”

  “But is it not the same for you? Didn’t you just tell me men throw themselves at your large feet constantly?”

  “My feet are not large, and it is not the same at all.” Her eyes were narrowed as she glared up at him. “Men can be old and unwed, women cannot. Therefore, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven years, I should be firmly on the shelf. Frustratingly, I am not.”

  “Frustratingly?”

  “I have no wish to wed and have a man control me, and I want to be on the shelf. My dowry is the stumbling block to achieving that blissful state. It is extremely vexing.”

  He laughed, quite simply because he could not stop himself. Had he known what a delight she was to converse with before now, he’d have taken the steps to apologize sooner. She was not the type to back down, instead meeting him head-on.

  “And that is the last time I speak of anything personal with you.”

  Leo sobered instantly. “No, please forgive me. It is just so ridiculous that someone as beautiful and intelligent as you could even consider themselves on the shelf.”

  She looked up at him. “I have agreed to this, my lord, there is no need to speak falsehoods to achieve my consent.”

  “Falsehoods? You think I would lie about something as important as beauty?”

  She snorted.

  “You are beautiful, Elizabeth, but as that makes you uncomfortable I shall move on to, why have you not married one of the many suitors you have undoubtedly had? Surely not all of them were offensive to you?”

  She stiffened again; it was only brief, but Leo felt it. Her sigh was small, and brushed his neck again. He was not affected by that at all. He’d just shivered because a cool breeze had swept through the ballroom.

  “Because every man who has approached Nick is a fool, and because I made the decision many years ago not to wed.”

  “You cannot honestly expect me to believe that?” Leo felt it necessary to defend his fellow man, and doubt her words. “Why would you choose not to marry at a young age?”

  And just like that she shut herself away from him. Gone was the fire, and in its place was the emotionless Miss Whitlow.

  “That is my decision, and one I have no wish to discuss further.”

  Leo knew she regretted mentioning it.

  “The dance is finished, and quite soon it will be everywhere that we are to wed, and that it must be so because I have just danced my first waltz ever with you.”

  “Why do you not waltz?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  “Mine.”

  That was frustrating, Leo thought. He did not like mysteries. Most young ladies loved to waltz. He had a feeling there was a great deal behind Miss Whitlow’s reasoning, but as she was unlikely to tell him, he did not pursue the matter.

  “As the dance has finished I think it may be time to face my cousin, who is standing at the edge of the floor looking like a large avenging angel.”

  Leo threw his friend a look, and wondered if they would still be close after the conversation they were about to share.

  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 love 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 hun
g 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.