CHAPTER SIX
Leohadn’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 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.”
