“The note you have crushed in your hand. Was it bad news?”
“This?” she said, but it was only a few decibels below a shriek. “No indeed, just a note from a friend who could not make it tonight.”
“And they delivered the message here?”
“Yes. I had left home before it arrived, so they forwarded it to me.”
Leo stepped to the left as she tried to walk around him, blocking her exit. “What’s going on, Beth?”
She appeared confused, even wrinkling her nose.
“La, I declare, Lord Vereton, I am unsure what it is you speak of. I am of course looking forward to the evening, and wished only for a breath of cool air before we took our seats.”
“La?” He kept his eyes on her face, holding her chin up now so she was forced to return his gaze. “You have never in my memory said that word, so I beg of you not to begin now, as it makes you sound like an empty-headed fool.”
“The word la makes me sound empty-headed? That is extremely harsh of you, when at least twenty ladies will use the word multiple times this evening.”
She was trying to change the subject, but Leo was not allowing that.
“Possibly, but I care nothing for them. It is you who concerns me, so tell me what is wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong,” she snapped, anger now straightening her spine. “I have had quite enough of you continually telling me there is. Our betrothal is fake, Lord Vereton, please remember that and stop following and questioning me constantly. I should not have allowed this silly charade to begin with. I blame it on a moment of insanity; I assure you it has now passed. Please excuse me, as I wish to go inside, my lord.”
As she shivered, Leo yielded and released her. Taking her hand, he placed it on his arm, and walked slowly back toward the doors.
“I have decided I wish for our betrothal to end at once, my lord.”
“And yet when last we spoke you had no wish to do so. What has changed?”
“I have just explained that I wish for my life to return to what it was, without you in it. Please do as I have suggested.”
“I do believe that hurt.”
“No it didn’t, and stop needling me.”
“I thought we were just getting comfortable in each other’s company, Beth.”
“No, we are not.”
“But I am beginning to understand you, as you are me.” He was needling her, he conceded, but at least if he was doing that she may forget what was in the note, because he hated seeing the fear in her eyes. For now that was enough—at least until she told him what was going on, anyway.
“It would take a great deal more than a handful of days for me to understand you, Lord Vereton, and as I have no wish to, please do as I have stated.”
“But I know a great deal now about you, my dear Miss Whitlow. I know that this cool facade you portray is hiding a great deal of passion and warmth. That you care for others, and that when I kissed you—”
“Stop it!”
“Tell me what is wrong and I will.”
“Nothing is wrong, and this entire conversation is foolish.”
Leo stopped and turned her to face him, his eyes once again searching her face. “I know you are lying to me, Beth. Will you not trust me so I can help you?”
“Stop asking me this!”
“I will when you tell me what is bothering you. Is it one of the girls in the shop, or the man you thought was watching you? Is that letter you hold bad news?”
“Stop it, Leo.” Her words had run out of strength and were a ragged whisper.
