by Wendy Vella
“Hardly that, and besides, I did not think you wished to discuss whatever that was back there in the church with her overhearing us.”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“Au contraire,” he drawled.
They walked while she hissed vile threats at him, until he reached his favorite tea shop.
“In you go.”
“I don’t want to have tea with you!”
“Come now, you cannot speak to your true love in such a way,” Leo reached over her shoulder and opened the door. He then nudged her through, and again she had no option but to concede.
“Good day, my lord.”
He nodded to the proprietress.
“What can I get you?”
“Tea for two please, Mrs. Lamb,” he said, pulling out a chair, and lowering Beth into it, using a hand on her shoulder to force her onto the seat. It was like folding a piece of ten-day-old bread. “Plus three Banbury cakes, and two cinnamon biscuits, please.”
“We cannot eat all that!”
“I can,” he said, taking the seat opposite, but ready to regain his feet should she attempt to flee.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, while Leo let her spleen cool. He came here often, because it was a small tea shop that was not usually busy, and it served the best cinnamon biscuits in London. He was not above sending a footman to collect a dozen upon occasion. Looking around him, he noted four other people seated, and no one he recognized. Excellent, they could converse without anyone overhearing.
“Now, I want you to tell me what is going on with you, and do not lie, or try and fob me off with this business about me still loving the evil breaker of hearts, as you are not terribly good at it.”
“No.” She had her arms folded like a child, and Leo couldn’t help it, he laughed.
“Do not laugh at me!”
“I always thought of you as the most contained, composed person I knew. It turns out I was wrong. In fact, you have a temper, and are not the cool, collected woman society sees. I like it.”
The smile fell from Leo’s face as the first tear fell.
Chapter Nineteen
Beth excessively disliked weeping, but if she did cry, it was definitely not in public. Her mother had not tolerated displays of emotion, thus her only child had learned to keep her emotions to herself.
“Beth.”
Her name sounded torn from Leo, as if he actually felt pain at the sight of her tears. Of course this could not be true; they were not people who felt anything for each other.
“Talk to me... please.”
His hand covered the one she had not realized was clenched in a fist on the table. Beth focused on that large hand. Gloveless. His knuckles were so much bigger than hers, and the fingers longer; in fact, he could hold both her hands with ease. A long scar ran down his thumb, stopping at the wrist. It was old, and the skin was white now, but the thickness of that line told her it had hurt desperately when it was done. She traced a gloved finger down it before she realized what she was about.
“Wh-what happened?”
“I was in a fight with a French solider.”
Beth looked at him, and felt herself steady as she noted the calm look in his eyes. She saw no pity, and for that she was grateful.
“Was it terrifying?”
He didn’t try to misunderstand. Instead, his fingers tightened over hers.
“Yes, extremely so.”
She and others often forgot what the men who had fought for their country endured. Leo was always the noble Lord Vereton. Polished and sophisticated, for the most. He, Nick, and their friends never showed signs of what they’d endured during their fighting days, but Beth wondered if they still bore the scars.
“I’m sorry for what you and the other men who fought for their country suffered.”
“Thank you.” The solemnly spoken words told her he was indeed grateful for the acknowledgement.
They broke contact when the tea arrived, and Beth took her cup and sipped, enjoying the warmth. It was not cold out, but she felt in need of fortifying. Her world had crumpled around her ankles; there was no other way to describe it. It had been muddling along, as it always had, until Leo decided on the fake betrothal, and then she’d received the first blackmail letter, and now... well, now she felt set adrift in a sea of uncertainty and fear. Everything she had fought hard to put behind her was now back in the forefront of her mind—her father’s death, and the pain of what had happened preceding that.
Beth looked down at the cake on her plate, and saw she’d broken it into crumbs.
“Talk to me, damn you!”
The words were deep and harsh and had Beth lifting her head.
“I have nothing to tell.” She sipped her tea and tried to keep what she was feeling from her eyes. She had come up with a plan to end their betrothal after the carriage carrying Harriet Hyndmarsh had rolled away. She’d decided to pursue the fact that he wanted to wed Harriet and not her, but to do that he must break from her. He had denied still loving the woman as they walked here, but she still had to try.
“I think we should call off the engagement, Leo. That business today, with Harriet, your true love, will only add to the speculation ours is a love match, when it could not be further from the truth,” Beth said, refusing to discuss the matter of blackmail. That frustrated him, because his eyes narrowed.
“I will not refute the love claim—we both know it is not the truth, as I have explained multiple times. However, you gave me until the end of the season to end this betrothal, so that will be when we call it off.”
“I concede that perhaps Harriet is not your true love. But what if you find another, and being betrothed to me does not allow you to pursue her?”
“You’re searching for an excuse, Beth, but it will not work. We are staying betrothed.”
“But—”
“No buts. You gave me your word, and besides, I am going to stay very close to you now.”
“What? Why?” Beth felt panic slither through her, and the irrational need to get to her feet and run.
“Because, my sweet, something is very wrong with you, and until I know what, I will be your shadow.”
“Leo, please, this is silly. If I need help I will go to Nick.”
“Excellent. I shall talk with him today, and have him call round to discuss this matter with you.”
“No!” The word came out with far more force than necessary.
“Because you have no wish to embroil him in this... whatever the hell this is.”
“Don’t speak that way in front of me.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Beth wiped her hands, and got to her feet. “Good day to you, my lord.”
Chapter Twenty
Leo caught her as she walked out into the street, and waved down a hackney. Opening the door, he picked her up and placed her inside. Her shriek only made him feel marginally better. After giving the driver her address, he joined her.
“Get out!”
He didn’t. Instead, he sat directly across from her. There was not a great deal of room, so Leo sat on the edge of his seat and trapped her legs between his.
“Leo, what are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t run away.”
“We’re in a hackney. How do you suggest I would do such a thing?”
One thing he’d come to understand about Elizabeth Whitlow was that she was rarely at a loss for words.
“I have no idea, but if anyone can do it, it will be you. I have come to realize you are an extremely resourceful woman.”
“That is a ridiculous statement, and I wish you would move back, because I do not like you so close.”
Her eyes were red from the tears she had silently shed sitting across from him in the cafe. It had been a brief moment of weakness, a few minutes, no more, and he guessed that was all she allowed herself. The bonnet framed her pale face, and she looked every inch the lady society believed her to be... and yet there was so much
more to her, Leo understood that now.
Reaching for her hands, he took them in his.
“Release me at once!”
“No.” He pulled her forward so their faces were inches apart.
“I don’t like seeing you cry.”
“I had something in my eye.”
“No, you didn’t, so don’t try and fob me off. You’re scared, Beth, and I want to know why.”
She looked down at his necktie. “No, I’m not. I never get scared.”
“How very brave of you.”
“Don’t mock me, Lord Vereton.”
He touched her chin, lifting it until their eyes met.
“Don’t—”
He kissed her. Sweet, achingly sweet, Leo thought as he slid his arms around her, bringing her body flush against his, her soft curves pressed to his chest. The feel of her stirred his body to life. The essence of her surrounded him, and her mouth... Lord, her lips were soft and willing beneath his.
“Leo.” She spoke his name on a sigh. He swallowed it, and took the kiss deeper.
Beth was lost to all but Leo within seconds. His mouth had teased a response from her, and when she yielded, he marauded, leaving her reeling. Her breasts tingled, and her body was tense. Heat filled her. She felt no fear, only a need for this man to never let her go.
“So sweet.” He said the words against her neck, making her shiver. His lips brushed the sensitive skin as her chin rose to allow him better access. With Leo she had no choice but to yield, because her body demanded it. Within seconds, she wanted more. His hands roamed her back, and Beth wanted her clothes gone, wanted to feel them on her skin. For so long she’d thought a man’s touch would repulse her, but not Leo’s. Suddenly she wanted more, her body awakening as he stroked and kissed it to life.
He reclaimed her lips and she felt his hands tugging the ties of her bonnet free. Next were the buttons of her coat, she then felt him part it, and shuddered as his hands slid inside.
Better, Beth thought. Closer to her skin. His fingers touched the neckline of her dress, tracing it, making the breath catch in her throat as he teased her skin. Lord, it felt wonderful, sending little darts of heat through her.
Could she touch him too? Did she dare? Beth opened his jacket, but went no further, simply placing a palm on his chest and feeling the hard wall of muscle beneath his clothes.
“We must stop,” he whispered into her ear. His voice was a deep rasp, which told her he was as affected as she by what they were doing. “Now, before I cannot.”
She looked sideways at his words, and realized anyone could have seen them. Reality returned with violent speed. Horrified at what she had been a part of, and allowed him to do, Beth sat back quickly, lowering her eyes as embarrassment swept over her.
“I’m not sorry I touched and kissed you, Beth, only that I did so in a carriage where anyone could have seen us.”
His voice was hoarse, and one hand clenched tight on his thigh.
“It should not have happened, will not happen again... ever. I want you to call off the betrothal now, tonight.”
“No.” Just one word, but Beth heard the finality in it. She dared to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, and the embers of passion still smoldered in his eyes.
“You must see it is for the best. This, whatever it is, cannot continue. Everything has changed. Stop this madness now, Leo, and you go back to your life and I mine.”
“It will not be that simple, as you very well know, especially after the display we put on for Lady Blanchly and the evil breaker of hearts. And let us also add the fact that I just ravished you in a hackney.”
“Harriet!” Beth snapped. “And what happened was simply momentary madness and nothing more.”
“I would not call what just took place between us madness, in fact far from it.” His eyes were so dark now, fired with emotion as he looked at her.
“Leo, please see reason,” she begged him.
“I will not walk away from you now when trouble is dogging your every step. Especially if, as I believe, you are being blackmailed. In fact, after what we just shared, I don’t think I want this betrothal to end at all.”
Beth stared at him in horror. Surely he had not said those words? “You cannot be serious,” she whispered. “W-we loathe each other.”
“Do we?” He raised a brow as he held her gaze. “That certainly wasn’t loathing we felt just minutes ago.”
“Stop this!” Panic gripped her as he gave her a gentle smile, the kind of smile she had seen Nick give Grace. No, no, no, this was not happening. She did not care for him, and he felt absolutely nothing for her.
Beth flung open the door as she felt the carriage start to slow. Lifting her skirts she then jumped to the ground, and hurried toward her house.
“Beth!”
Leo was hot on her heels as she ran up the steps to the front door. She opened it, slammed it behind her, and locked it.
“Miss Whitlow.” Her butler appeared.
“Let no one enter, please, I have a headache and wish to rest.”
Ignoring the pounding on the wood, she took the stairs two at a time and did not stop running until she reached her room. Once there she took out her writing things and sat to compose a note. Handing it to her footman fifteen minutes later, she asked that he deliver it at once, before the doubts would stop her sending it. She then waited, and prayed.
Chapter Twenty-One
“And you say the note was delivered anonymously, Perkins?”
Leo read the words again.
I would like to employ the services of the Lords of Night Street. I am being blackmailed over something that happened in my past, and am at a loss to know what to do. I fear for those I love, as threats have also been made against them. I am seeking advice as to what my next move should be. Therefore, I would be extremely grateful if you would meet me outside Hatchard’s Book Shop at ten o’clock tonight. I shall be in a carriage.
“The note was posted under the door, Lord Vereton.”
“There is no signature,” Leo said, wondering why he suddenly felt tense. “I will deal with it, and then if need be call in the others.”
“Is it wise to go alone, my lord?”
“You know where I will be, Perkins. If I do not return, you can send out a search party.”
Leo stood to one side of the bookshop, tucked in the shadows as a carriage pulled up. He waited, but no one appeared or looked out the windows. The trickle of awareness down his spine increased. Before Leo could approach, the door opened. He watched someone step down, and realized at once it was a lady. She wore a cloak, hood up, so he could not see her face. Waiting in the shadows, he watched as she moved. A gloved hand came up to pull the hood forward, and the gesture tugged something in his memory. Leo felt an awareness that he could not fathom. When she turned his way, he knew why.
Stepping out of his hiding place, he moved fast, and was before her in seconds.
“Inside the carriage now.”
“Leo?”
He didn’t wait, simply lifted her off her feet and took her with him into the carriage.
“Take us around the streets until I tell you different,” he told the driver.
Lowering Beth to the seat across from him, Leo watched as she moved back until she was pressed into the upholstery.
“Start talking.”
“Why were you there, Leo?”
He thought briefly about lying, but decided on the truth, as that was what was needed between them now.
“I am one of the Lords of Night Street. It was I who was sent to meet you.”
She pushed the hood off her head, and looked at him, eyes wide with shock.
“You... you’re one of them? But how is that possible?”
“We’ll get back to that, but right now I want to hear who is threatening you.”
Leo felt an unreasonable swell of anger, a need to find whoever dared to hurt her and make them pay. Looking at her sitting there attempting to be strong, trying to
appear as she always did, calm and composed, he felt something give inside him. An inevitability, which, when his head had cleared, he would examine further.
“Talk to me.”
She stayed silent, and he could almost see her brain moving through ways to throw him off the scent.
“Don’t try and put up smoke screens, Beth, not this time. I have your note in my hand, and you are here at the meeting place at the exact time.”
“I needed air.”
As far as lies went, it was a pitiful one, they both knew it, but he had to admire her for at least trying.
“The truth, Beth. Tell me the truth.”
“Leo, I have no wish to discuss this with you.”
She tried to move away, tried to stare out the window, but he was having none of that. Gripping her arms, he leaned in.
“Talk to me, Beth. I can help you, as can the others. I know there is something very wrong... have known it for some time.”
She sighed. It was deep and loud, and then her shoulders slumped, and Leo knew he’d won.
“I’m scared, Leo.”
The words were softly spoken. It hurt him to see her defeated.
“I would ask you not to judge me, and you must also promise not to tell anyone what it is I am about to speak of.”
“You have my word.” Leo released her arms and sat back, wondering what the hell she would say. He wanted to watch her face, so he turned up the lamps. The curtains were closed; no one would be able to see them, were they looking.
“It is hard to know where to start, as I have carried this for so long.”
“I don’t care how long your story takes, Beth. So start at the beginning.”
“Very well. When my mother passed away, my father and I became close. She was not an easy woman, so when she was no longer there to control us, we began to enjoy life.”
Her smile was filled with memories.
“Papa was very protective of me, and rarely allowed people to visit. That changed in my fifteenth summer, because he believed it was time to start acquainting me with people I would meet when I entered society in a few years.”
