Chapter 2

Leopold struggled to open his eyes, but his head pounded too much. The first thing he recalled was awakening in the middle of the road unable to move other than roll onto his side. It had also been dark as pitch outside. He must have fallen asleep and perhaps he was dreaming because Leopold could swear that he was now in a moving carriage and a woman was wiping his brow. He had no idea who she was, but her voice was that of Lady Bethany.

He was slipping into madness.

Leopold had been thinking of Lady Bethany right before the ruffians had come upon him, but that was no cause for him to hear her now.

Unless he had died, and his hell was having to hear her voice and endure her tender touch that had been denied him in life.

An eternity with her just out of reach would be hell. That would be worse than when he encountered her in London and she ignored him.

Why did he still care for her? Was it simply because she was the only female who did not want to be his duchess?

The carriage finally slowed, and Leopold wondered at what location he would arrive—heaven or hell—and maybe the spirit accompanying him only resembled the person whom he never had but had lost none the less.

Leopold's stomach rolled, someone was hammering inside his head, and his body ached as if he'd done twenty rounds with the hardest hitting pugilist at Gentleman Jackson's. What he needed was a soft bed, except he still wasn't certain he hadn't died.

The carriage finally came to a stop, and he risked looking to see where he was, though he feared what he might see.

Very slowly he opened his lids only to be met with the angelic face of Lady Bethany staring down at him. Her brows were furrowed, and she bit her bottom lip.

Was this hell or heaven?

It was hell. He wouldn't be in so much pain in heaven.

"There is only one room available, and I have secured it for you," someone out of his sight said.

"Thank you. Can you get His Grace up to the chamber?"

"Yes."

Chamber? Was he home?

No there is only one room. His home had several.

Leopold let his eyes drift closed, but when arms grasped at him, he quickly opened them again. It wasn't Lady Bethany he saw, but a man.

"We will take care, Your Grace, but it will be difficult to move you without causing any more pain."

Leopold nodded, or at least he thought he did and closed his eyes again, grimacing at the pain that racked his body when someone lifted his feet and another his shoulders.

When he was next alert, softness cradled his back, and a pillow was beneath his head. At least they had managed to get him to a chamber. Now, all he needed to do was rest and all would be well.

"Ride for the doctor, Henry. Ask the innkeeper for a basin of warm water and rags, Jason. I do not know how long we will be here, but George is going to try to secure another room after he has stabled the horses and the carriage is parked."

Leopold watched as the two men left the chamber and closed the door behind them. Lady Bethany turned and glided over to Leopold.

"What happened?" she asked.

Leopold tried to remember but could only recall snippets.

"I will wash the blood from your face when Jason returns with the basin. For now, I will untie the ropes which will make it easier for you to move."

"Thank you," Claybrook croaked, his voice hoarse and mouth dry.

Now he recalled trying to move earlier, when he had awakened in the middle of the road, but he'd been unable to.

Lifting his head, he glanced down to note that he was completely encased in a blanket and then a rug with a rope about his ankles, which Lady Bethany was in the process of untying, and another was about his chest, which pinned his arms against his body.

Once the first rope was untied, she tossed it aside and began to work on the one about his chest. Despite the pain he suffered each time he moved, Leopold still enjoyed the sight of Bethany over him. As she worked at the knot, her teeth biting her bottom lip, her bodice gaped just enough to give him a delightful view of her full, creamy breasts and the one part of him that remained uninjured was beginning to respond.

"There," she finally said as the rope loosened. She pushed against his shoulder to move him to the side.

"Sorry," Bethany apologized when he winced and then pulled the rope from beneath him before letting him rest on his back again. She then opened the rug and Leopold let out a sigh with the weight being lifted from his chest.

"There is dirt and mud on this blanket. I'm going to remove it and get something warm and clean over you," she was saying as she reached to open the folds.

His heart raced. There was a reason Lady Bethany should not remove his blanket, but what was it? In a flash he remembered. "No," Leopold managed to say just as she unwrapped the blanket to reveal his naked body.

For a moment she did nothing. Instead, Lady Bethany stared down at him with wide eyes. It took but a moment, and then red, nearly the color of a poppy spread across her cheeks.

"I am sorry…oh dear…I am so very sorry," she hastened to say as she covered him once again.

Leopold would have laughed if it wouldn't have hurt so badly, but then he sobered with the realization that his future and fate had just been sealed.

"Rule twenty," he murmured. Never allow an innocent miss or lady to see you naked, nor should you view her in a state of undress or there will be no choice but to marry. It was one that was never listed but should have been. Leopold just hadn't thought of it until now.

"I do not even want to know which one that is," Lady Bethany bit out as she straightened and fisted her hands on her hips. "The first nineteen on your Rules on How to Avoid Matrimony for the Duke in Training, were bad enough, yet you have managed to embrace each one, even though you are long past training."

Leopold frowned. The rules weren't for him. They'd been for his cousin, the Duke of Ellings, not that they did any good. Except the new rule twenty was what would see Leopold married to a woman who despised him.

Bethany couldn't turn away from Claybrook quickly enough. She also should not have stared, but she'd been so shocked to discover he was naked that she wasn't certain what to do. She'd never seen a gentleman who was not fully clothed before and even though she was mortified, she'd also been fascinated.

Though, she shouldn't have been surprised by the muscles in his chest and flat abdomen. When he'd come out of the Serpentine, he had removed his jacket and waistcoat, which left his linen shirt clinging to his body. The memory had often kept her warm at night, but it was nothing compared to seeing his flesh.

Goodness! Not only were his shoulders, chest, and abdomen impressive, she was quite fascinated when her eyes glanced further down.

That was what a male member actually looked like? In paintings and sculptures, they were usually short, fat and small, and not at all impressive. In fact, impressive had not even been a word she had considered before when such was observed. It was more of a curiosity given what little she knew about intimacy. Except Claybrook's was different. Not short, but longer, and hard, like a muscle.

Blast! Now her face was on fire.

She should have never viewed him in such a state. It was not at all proper, though she was not sorry either.

Why did he have to go and mention one of his blasted rules. "I can promise that I shall never tell anyone what has occurred so your precious bachelor state will not be threatened." If anyone ever learned what had happened in this room today, she would be ruined beyond repair.

She strode to the window, which she was tempted to open if only to bring coolness into the room. Was she warm because of what she had viewed or because his mention of his rules brought her anger to the surface?

"Why are you naked?" she finally asked.

When he did not answer, Bethany turned, afraid that he had fallen asleep once again. He had suffered a hit to the head and there was a danger each time he lost consciousness. Instead, Claybrook frowned.

"Do you not remember?" That also occurred sometimes when someone was struck on the head.

"I have vague…" he cleared his throat. "Water, please," he asked. "I am parched."

"Yes, of course." Bethany crossed to the table and poured a glass of water from the pitcher a maid had delivered when they were shown to the room. Doing her best not to look at His Grace, she held the glass so that he might drink.

Just because he despised her and Bethany held on to some anger toward him, did not mean that she would not take care of him. He was injured and she would see to his comfort.

"May I have assistance?"

She quickly glanced to note that Claybrook had lifted himself only so much that he was supporting his weight with his elbows. His face was strained and given the numerous bruises she'd noted on his torso concluded that he was likely in a great deal of pain. "Here." She grabbed the extra pillows and put them behind his head and shoulders to offer support.

Claybrook relaxed back into a reclining position then blew out a sigh. While one hand grasped the blanket across his body, the other reached for the glass. Even his arms were bruised.

"Let me." Bethany leaned forward and put the glass to his lips and tried to ignore his broad, naked shoulders.

She may need to leave and stand outside so that the temperature of her body could return to normal.

"Thank you," Claybrook murmured.

Bethany took the glass and set it aside.

He then lay back and closed his eyes.

Bethany watched on with concern.

Leopold groaned.

She straightened.

"Chamber…" he didn't finish but placed a hand over his mouth.

Bethany grabbed the closest vessel, which unfortunately was the pitcher and held it as Claybrook tossed up his accounts.

When done, he once again fell back against the pillows, eyes closed.

While concerned for his wellbeing, she also sighed as his breathing grew steady. It was probably best that he slept while his body recovered.

Brushing his tousled hair across his brow, Bethany was reminded that at one time she cared so deeply for him. In fact, she'd been in love with the Duke of Claybrook and had even been hopeful that they would court. She had wanted him to call on her, but then she realized that the Duke of Claybrook had only been toying with her affections. She had been so angry and had acted spontaneously for the first time in her life and pushed him into the Serpentine. She almost regretted it immediately and when he asked why she had pushed him, she couldn't tell him with so many watching and listening, so asked him to call on her.

He never did. If he had ever cared, he would have visited.

Bethany turned her back once again on Claybrook.

It was better this way. He thought of her as a bird-witted twit and he was boorish and difficult. Why she still cared, she had no idea, but she did.

Drat him!

Jason, her footman returned a moment later with the cloths and water she had requested, and Bethany set to washing the dried blood from Claybrook's face. He did not wake, which brought even deeper concern for his health.

Was he more injured than she realized?