CHAPTER FOUR
Leowasn’t entirely sure what had possessed him to claim Miss Whitlow as his fiancée. Madness perhaps? An ailment that was addling his wits? Or the simpering look of adoration in the eyes of Lady Hyndmarsh, which he now knew was a lie. Whatever foolish lapse in judgment allowed those words to fall from his mouth, he knew, was about to cost him dearly.
“B-but, I had thought... ”
Leo knew what words Harriet had been about to utter. Knew that her husband had passed away leaving her alone to pursue whatever and whoever she wished, and that he was part of those wishes.
“Yes?” He raised a polite brow. “What did you think, Lady Hyndmarsh?” Leo didn’t dare look at Miss Whitlow, as surely she was breathing fire. For now it was enough that she had yet to blow his cover. Her hand was in the crook of his arm, and he wondered if perhaps shock was holding her silent.
“I had hoped....”
“My dear Harriet, are you well? That is the second sentence you have been unable to finish. Can I get you some refreshment, or is there someone I can collect to see to you?”
Leo coughed at the simpering kindness in Miss Whitlow’s words. It seemed her silence was over.
“I need nothing, thank you. Your news is simply something of a shock to me.”
Leo wondered how he’d ever been fooled by this woman. She was calculating and had sold herself to the highest purse three days after he had declared his love for her. Looking into that pretty face now that the shock of her reappearance had subsided, he felt nothing.
“Well then, if we can be of no further assistance, we shall take our leave, as my fiancée and I wish to dance.”
Leo didn’t flinch as Miss Whitlow dug her nails into his arm. He deserved whatever punishment she meted out. He led them to the dance floor and swung her into his arms as a waltz began.
“I don’t d-dance the waltz,” she said, quickly trying to extract herself from his arms.
“And yet you will now, with me, as this is the only place we can speak in whispers and actually hear each other.”
She was stiff, her body twice the distance away from his than was correct. He pulled her in closer.
“Relax, woman, I will not hurt you, for pity’s sake.”
He looked down as she made a choking sound. Her face was pale, breathing suddenly rapid, and she was staring at his necktie.
“Miss Whitlow... Beth, are you well?”
She managed a shaky nod, then closed her eyes.
“I do not like to waltz,” she said again.
“Then we shall stop. Forgive me, I did not realize your words were the truth. I thought perhaps it was just me you had no wish to waltz with.”
She exhaled, her breath brushing the skin of his neck; it was a strangely unsettling sensation.
“No, I will be all right, and you are right, we have much to discuss.”
Leo was relieved to see her color returning, and with it her caustic tongue.
“I have no idea what idiotic notion you took into your head to declare us betrothed, but I wish you to undo it at once.”
He looked down into her blue eyes and saw they were narrowed and as warm as ice.
“I will, of course, but if you will just hear me out.”
“I am all ears as to what madness could possibily have induced that moment of insanity.”
“You are one of the most sarcastic women I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
“Me!” She snapped out the word. “You dare to insult me, when I stood by and let you declare to your ladylove that we are betrothed.”
