Chapter 7

Leopold was becoming restless waiting for Bethany to return.

What was taking so long?

What if something happened to her? They were in a coaching inn. He had been able to determine that based on the number of carriages and coaches he heard arriving and leaving and the voices that came up from the courtyard below. Any manner of disreputable man could see, then admire her, and…well, anything could happen, and he wasn't there to protect her.

At least when her servants were here there was security as they fetched food and whatnot. Now she was vulnerable.

A moment later the door flew open, and Bethany entered carrying a laden tray then kicked the door closed behind her.

"A constable is here asking to speak to you."

Leopold sat forward. "Why?"

She quickly explained the conversation. "What do we do?"

"Bring him up. I want those men caught and punished."

"Yes, but…"

He knew what her true fear was—if anyone learned that they'd shared a chamber these past days, especially without him having any clothing…

Well, she would just need to become used to the idea of being his duchess. Deep down she must know that was the outcome they both faced. Even in a small hamlet such as this, someone was bound to learn.

"Bethany," Leopold began calmly. "All will be well."

"Yes. Of course." She set the tray on a table. "Would you like to eat first?"

"No. I want this matter resolved and hopefully my belongings returned."

"Yes. Of course," she repeated then came forward and pulled the blankets up to his chin. "You really should learn some modesty, Your Grace."

He chuckled. "You have not complained previously."

Her face took on a lovely, rosy hue. "We have not had guests before now."

With that, she turned on her heel and marched from the room and returned a few moments later with Constable Merryweather, and Leopold nearly groaned.

"Your Grace," Merryweather greeted with a big smile as he entered the chamber.

Bethany glanced quickly between the two.

"Merryweather, how did you become a constable?" Leopold then looked to Bethany. "We attended school together. Merryweather is Lord Clark Merryweather, second son of the Marquess of Godolphin."

"Boredom, I suppose. My father wouldn't allow me to join the Bow Street Runners and you know my fascination has always been crime, punishment, and the law." He turned to Bethany. "Father believed the law beneath me, and I have no more temperament for being a vicar than Claybrook."

"What happened?" He directed the question to Leopold.

He did his best to describe the events, including everything that had been taken from him, but did not answer how he had been found or Bethany's involvement. "There are still moments that are not clear."

"You have no clothing?" the constable asked and slid a glance to Bethany, whose face was now as red as an autumn apple ready to fall from the tree.

"There were none to be found in this hamlet. A footman has been sent to my home in London."

"There is a village not too far away. I will have them send something over when I pass through."

As he was not certain where he was, and that he had a headache more times than not, Leopold hadn't even considered the possibility of a closer village. Nor had Bethany.

He frowned. She was probably too exhausted to think straight, having slept on the settee, which could not be the least bit comfortable.

"Thank you," Bethany offered. "It would be very much appreciated."

"Yes, and then I might move about freely," Leopold added.

The constable turned to Bethany. "I know your uncle, as well as your mother and aunt. My family lived in Faversham when I was a boy."

Leopold watched the exchange to see how Bethany would respond.

"In fact, my father and I were just visiting your uncle a few days ago. Your entire family is in residence, including your mother and Mrs. Montgomery."

Bethany's eyes widened. "Aunt Anne?" Bethany questioned as the color left her face.

The constable chuckled. "I understand she is still the biggest gossip in London. Father told me that she'd been that way since she first learned to talk." Those words were delivered with a warning to Leopold.

"It was to be a surprise," Leopold said and began to spin a tale that would not see Bethany ruined. "We enjoyed a small, private wedding and wished to keep the marriage a secret for as long as possible so that we were not bothered."

Bethany frowned at him.

Certainly, she knew that they would be wed shortly. They had no other choice.

"Though, we knew that as soon as we arrived at the Dargates' home that Aunt Anne would not be able to resist the urge to write a letter to every single acquaintance."

The constable chuckled again. "She will be sending missives from heaven when her time comes."

The constable turned to Bethany. "How is it that you did not suffer injury?"

Bethany's breath lodged in her throat. How did she answer the question? Until now, Claybrook had described how he was attacked and that it was Bethany's servants who had brought him to the coaching inn without mentioning how she may have been a part of the rescuing.

"She ran," Claybrook answered from the bed. "When we were stopped, I urged her to run, which she did and hid until we were later found."

How could he tell such a lie?

Then she realized that he was protecting her, but to claim that they were married was too much of a ruse that would see them trapped. And, if she knew anything about the Duke of Claybrook, he had rules to avoid such unwanted entanglements. She'd heard him recite those rules, and then he wrote the entire list for his cousin, the Duke of Ellings. So, why would he seal his own fate now?

"By whom?" the constable asked.

"My driver," Bethany answered easily since it was the truth. "My carriage with two footmen riding beside it came across His Grace in the middle of the road."

"You were with him?" the constable asked.

"I was by his side as soon as I was able."

"Why were they following so far behind?"

Why did Merryweather have so many questions? None of this mattered. Catching the miscreants who had attacked Claybrook and his belongings was far more important.

"We had gone on ahead. We wished to be alone since we were recently wed," Claybrook offered.

"How recently? I am to understand that your wife spent the night here before she found you in the road the next day."

There was no privacy in England. Not even in a small hamlet such as this where nobody knew her, yet everyone knew her comings and goings.

"I snuck in through an open window and left the same way," Leopold answered.

Merryweather laughed. "You always did have an answer for even the most impossible and ridiculous situations, but this one will not stand up to scrutiny."

"I will work on a tale that is more plausible."

"Nobody needs to know anything," Bethany blurted out. "Claybrook is injured. He nearly died. I cared for him only because there was no one else. He should not have to suffer the gossip any more than me and I shall not see us ruined because ruffians decided to rob him one night."

Merryweather pulled back and then laughed, which did nothing to help her irritation. "I congratulate you, Claybrook, on your good fortune."

"Good fortune? He nearly died."

Merryweather chuckled and shook his head, which Bethany did not understand, but sometimes gentlemen were simply odd.

"I will have clothing delivered and then see about the arrest of the men who did this, though I suspect that they are long gone since I was asking questions."

"Likely with my horse and good boots," Claybrook grumbled.

"Yes, but you gained a wife." Merryweather laughed again. "I will have them hold your cabriolet until you can retrieve it." He then nodded to Bethany and was gone.

At the click of the door, Bethany stomped to the bed. "Why did you tell him we had wed?" she demanded.

"Because eventually we will, and this protects your reputation."

She could not believe she heard him correctly.

"We most certainly will not marry," she insisted and then returned to the breakfast, removed plates for herself and then deposited the tray on his lap. "I should have left you in the road." She didn't mean her words of course, but neither did she want to face the truth.

"We should discuss the matter," he said.

"You should eat your breakfast," she argued and turned her back on him.

She could not marry the Duke of Claybrook. She just couldn't.

Oh, why did it have to be her who found him in the middle of the road?

They would never suit. He did not even like her, and she couldn't stop loving him. Well, she did not care for the man he had become in the last two years, but still loved the person he had been before she pushed him into the Serpentine.

She loved the man she had thought he was.

Bethany sat on the settee and stared at the food before her, no longer hungry. No matter how much she wished to deny their predicament, deep down she knew the truth.