CHAPTER THREE
Bethwatched the man prowl toward them. He had a lithe grace that made his movements seem easy as he walked through the crowd. His eyes were moving from left to right; the color of a starless night, they held their usual cynical expression. Tonight he wore a deep blue jacket, tailored to fit his broad shoulders, and an elegantly knotted necktie. His waistcoat was blue also, with a deep burgundy stripe. She’d always thought him handsome, but there was something else to the Marquis of Vereton. Something untamed in his eyes and the way he carried himself. A wild side that had him caring little what people thought of him. He usually said and did as he pleased, and Beth knew he had plenty of women making fools of themselves over him. Which begged the question again as to why he’d allowed a silly one to break him.
“Stop scowling, Leo.”
“I like scowling,” he said to Nick. “It scares people away.”
“And yet here we stand... people.”
The scowl grew darker, his eyes moving over the crowd.
“You’re not people, you’re a friend. Totally different.”
“I’m relieved,” Nick drawled. “However, I’m sure my cousin is people.”
Leo passed his eyes over Beth before returning their focus to the crowd.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Whitlow.”
“And now if you will excuse me, I must speak with Lord Loxton—he has just arrived. I shall return shortly. Be nice to my cousin, Leo, and you be nice to him, Beth.”
“I’m always nice,” they said in unison, then laughed.
Beth hadn’t seen Lord Vereton smile for some time, and the effect was quite something. His face softened from the cynical look he usually wore, making him seem younger, and the lines around his eyes told her he knew how to laugh; he just didn’t do so in her company.
She heard the breath he inhaled and followed his gaze to find Lady Hyndmarsh heading their way.
“The first meeting will be the worst; after that everything will go easier,” she said softly.
“I would rather just go on ignoring her, but I must thank you again for your support. I’m sure in your eyes I seem something of a weak-kneed fool.”
“Not precisely weak-kneed....”
He laughed as she’d wanted him too.
Beth did something impulsive then, and slipped her hand through his arm. He clamped it to his side, and there they stood, together, watching Harriet approach.
She was beautiful, right to the toes of her tiny satin slippers. Dark hair, styled elaborately, skin like porcelain, and lips rose red—although, Beth wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t used some kind of enhancement there. Her dress was cut daringly low, which displayed plenty of her bosom as she slipped into a deep curtsey before them. Her eyes were pools of lilac and appeared soft and beguiling, which was far from the truth. This woman never did anything without calculating the benefits to her. She was cold, callous, and shallow, and Beth had loathed her since they stepped into society together.
“Lord Vereton.” Her voice was a breathy whisper. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.”
He bowed, but did not take the hand she held out to him, which was bad of him, but Beth enjoyed the flicker of surprise on the woman’s face. Which was likely bad of her. Her hand was still pressed to his side, trapped under his arm.
“You’ve met Miss Whitlow, I believe, Lady Hyndmarsh?”
“Of course.” She dragged her gaze from him, and reluctantly settled it on Beth. They both curtsied.
“My fiancée.”
Beth rose slowly. He had not just said what she thought he had, surely?
“Fiancée?” Harriet looked stunned, which quickly turned into displeasure. “I knew nothing of this!”
“I’m not sure why you would,” Lord Vereton drawled as he looked at Beth. He took her limp free hand in his and kissed the back of it. Beth was too stunned to stop him. “After all, she only accepted a few days ago; we have yet to make the announcement public.”
“My lord.” Beth found her wits. “What are—”
“I know, darling.” He squeezed her hand so hard, she had to fight not to wince. “We said we would tell no one yet. But my love for you can no longer be hidden. I want everyone to share in our joy.”
