CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Theydid not return to the ball; instead Leo had simply walked Beth to his carriage, and taken her home, holding her the entire journey in his lap.
Lloyd and his accomplices were dealt with by his friends. Leo would have something to say on how the man paid for what he had done to Beth, later.
It had been with great reluctance that he’d said goodbye to her at the door to her townhouse. He’d wanted to keep Beth in his arms, hold her the entire night, to assure himself she was not suffering any effects of what she had just endured. However, he could not—her aunt had sent him away.
Leo returned to his house and ordered a bath. When the water had cooled, he climbed out, dressed for bed, and sipped brandy while he sat and thought about the night’s events. When his glass was empty, he climbed into bed and closed his eyes and tried to sleep... he failed badly. His head was full of her. He wanted Beth, needed her. Looking into the darkness, he fought the urge to go to her.
“It’s the middle of the night, you fool,” he reminded himself as he turned yet again and thumped his pillow... hard.
Another hour passed with visions of Beth weeping and stricken in her bed. Of course, the rational part of his mind knew she was rarely, if ever, stricken, but still, here in the dark he believed she was just that, and right now she needed him. He allowed another hour to pass before he gave up.
Rising, he pulled on his clothes and let himself out the door. The gray light of dawn was slowly filtering over London as he started walking in the direction of Beth’s house. He was unsure what the hell he was to do when he reached it, but knew that he must see her, and soon.
It was not far, and at this time, would not take him long.
Walking through the front gates, he made his way quietly around the side of the house, and knocked on the servants’ door. A sleepy-looking young girl opened it.
“Good morning to you, and thank you,” Leo said, as if he entered through this door daily. He walked through the kitchens, past bleary-eyed staff, and took the stairs up. Once there he encountered a footman, who tried not to appear shocked, but failed.
“Which rooms are Miss Whitlow’s?”
“Second floor, second door on the left, sir.”
Leo thanked him and took the stairs two at a time now. Reaching the second floor, he found her door and opened it quietly. Closing it behind him, he turned the key in the lock.
The room was dark, with only a sliver of light to tell him where he was walking. Reaching the bed, he looked down, and found her asleep on her front, arms beside her head, right in the center of the mattress. Relief had him smiling. The first piece of clothing he removed was his necktie.
“Beth.”
She could hear Leo’s voice in her dreams. Felt the yearning to have him near.
“Wake up, love.”
She felt a brush of lips on her cheek, and then a hand in her hair, pushing it aside. Opening her eyes, she found Leo’s face inches from hers.
“Leo?”
“Yes.”
Blinking, she turned on her side to face him. She was still in her bed, where she had been since she found it a few hours ago. “H-how are you here?”
“I missed you,” he said, lifting her up and lowering her down on top of him. “And my head was filled with visions of you distraught and weeping after what happened last night.”
“But how is it you are in my bed?”
“I could not sleep so I walked here, let myself in the servants’ entrance—actually a sleepy maid did that—and then had a footman tell me which room was yours.”
“A footman?” Beth blinked. “Surely you did not ask a footman directions to my rooms?” She felt his hand slide up her leg, and then the flat of his palm in the small of her back.
“I did actually. Seeing as we are to be married, I thought it was important your staff become familiar with me.” His smile was wicked as he stroked her skin.
“Leo, you have no clothes on.” Beth had meant to sound outraged, and yet her words came out more a purr.
“I could hardly get into your bed fully dressed, my love.”
He was so warm, and she felt it again, that wonderful stirring of passion only he could create inside her.
