Chapter 9

"For a time, I did think that you might care for me," she started. "Your courtship of Tessa had ended, yet you still asked me to dance and approached me when we were in the same location. I had thought…Never mind, it no longer matters."

"I was pursuing you," he argued.

"To what end? To make a fool out of me?"

"Of course not."

"I know the truth, Your Grace. I heard the very words from your lips. I was a diversion if anything. Perhaps used to keep other misses away, or perhaps it was a game to you, and you did not care whose heart you broke along the way."

"What the blazes are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Your bloody rules!" she returned, her back straight, hands fisted on hips, blue eyes glaring.

"Rules?"

"Yes, you began making them as soon as the future Duke of Ellings arrived in England. You wanted to protect him from being trapped."

"They were for him, not me," Claybrook argued.

"You already employed them for yourself."

"How and when?" he demanded. Leopold was quite certain that he had not.

"Dancing," she began. "You always approached at the beginning of an event, but you never picked the first dance because that would have been in violation of rule number four."

"Do not show favoritism to one lady by dancing the first dance with her," he recited. In fact, he never danced the first dance.

"Occasionally you requested a waltz, but it was rare, because had you, that would have been in further violation of rule number four."

"Do not always choose a waltz," he offered, his stomach tightening.

"You most certainly never asked for the supper waltz. Rule fifteen!" she bit out.

He sank onto the bed. "Or one will find themselves stuck at a table with a miss for what will feel like an entire Season while she prattles on about nonsense."

"How many supper waltzes and suppers did you spend in the card room, Your Grace?"

Leopold chose not to answer.

"We did stroll about the perimeter of a ballroom, but never in the gardens and now I know why."

"Rule number eleven." he groaned. "Never go anywhere with a miss or single lady without a chaperone and that includes a stroll through the gardens at night."

"And when I glanced at you during a ball, or any entertainment, you always looked away."

"I did not want gossips to wonder as to our relationship," he insisted.

"Rule seventeen!"

"Do not make contact from across the room with an eligible miss or her mother. It encourages them."

"I heard you discuss each and every rule with your friends that day, as if they were some great lark."

"Those rules were for Ellings, not me, and I most certainly did not have them in mind for you."

"Then it is a shame that I did not know, nor did you take the opportunity to explain." Bethany arched a brow. "If you recall, after I pushed you in the Serpentine, instead of explaining for all to hear and witness, I asked you to call on me, but you did not, which I can only assume was because it violated rule number three. Never pay a call to any miss or lady, not even during the fashionable time as it will be speculated upon."

Leopold had no idea that Bethany had heard him list the rules, or that she would believe that they were ones he followed himself.

Except, he had since the age of eighteen when he started making note of what he could and could not do in Society. He had never meant to use them with regard to Bethany, but perhaps they were so well ingrained that he had not even noticed.

"I had planned on calling that day and was determined to do so, but when I returned home to change out of my wet clothing, I was met with disturbing news."

She folded her arms across her chest, head tilted, mouth pursed and waited for his excuse.

"That is when I learned that my brother Millard had attempted to kill Donovan MacGregor."

Sadness filled her eyes as the realization of the timing struck. "I had forgotten that had been the same day."

"I had assumed you had learned before me and that is why you pushed me in the Serpentine."

Bethany frowned. "I did not find out until later, but why would I have punished you for something your brother had done?"

"It was a grave offense and all of Society placed some of the blame on me, as if I should have known that my brother was disturbed." Leopold sighed under the weight of her words and how he had ruined everything. "Perhaps I should have been more observant, or spoke to him more…"

"Do not blame yourself," Bethany insisted. "Nor should Society. He may have brought scandal to your family but to blame you is unfair. I would not wish to be held responsible for any transgressions my brother or sister committed."

"It was attempted murder, not a mere transgression."

"Nor were you to blame."

All Leopold could do was stare at Bethany. Her accusations were damning, and she was not wrong. Had he only called on her then to demand why she had pushed him, the matter could have been cleared up, though it likely would not have done any good. Given that Millard had attempted to poison MacGregor not once, but twice, the scandal was too much for anyone to overcome and it was likely that Bethany's father would have rejected his suit, even though Leopold was a duke.

"I left Town immediately, with my family. That is why I did not call that day."

"I realize that now."

"So, I was tossed in the Serpentine because you believed that I was toying with your affection."

"That, and what you said of Tessa's friends."

If she had not been so hurt, she would have realized why Claybrook had not called that day, and the necessity of him returning to the country much sooner than she had. But Bethany had been lost in self-pity, her heart crushed and feeling foolish. It was then that she had decided as a certainty that she was going to be a spinster as her friend, Tessa, planned on being and the two of them would make their own way. She certainly was not ever going to love again.

"You did return to London the following spring, and had you been interested or even curious as to why I had pushed you, you could have called on me. That is, if it is true that you had wished to pursue me."

"I did, twice; you were not at home."

That was not possible for she would have been told. Had she been home, she would have certainly met with him.

"When?" she asked.

"Two days after your family arrived," he answered.

Bethany frowned. Where had she been and why hadn't she been told?

"Then I thought to speak to you at the first function in which I saw you, but you gave me the cut direct."

That she did recall. "I most certainly did not."

"I distinctly remember glancing toward you, and you tilted your chin just enough to put your nose in the air and turned your back before walking off."

"That is because you scowled at me," she argued.

"I did not."

"Yes, you did," she insisted.

"I remember standing there, trying to get out of a conversation with Mrs. Draper, who had two daughters…" Claybrook groaned. "I had been trying to discourage that woman and she had the audacity to put her hand on my sleeve to keep me in place. I had glanced down at her hand and glared at her. When I turned away, you are the first person I saw, and you gave me the cut direct."

Mrs. Draper was pushy, and not the least bit pleasant. "Perhaps you should learn to school your features, Your Grace."

"And carry on as dishonestly as the rest of Society?" he grumbled. "Anyway, as you had not been home to me twice and gave me the cut direct, I decided that it was useless to pursue you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he had given up rather easily but she did not.

"I rarely saw you after that night, but that was because I was invited few places."

Bethany frowned. He was a duke and invited everywhere.

"Some scandals are not overlooked or easily forgotten as quickly as one would like," he offered. "Most of the invitations I received were from parents of daughters in need of a spouse and did not care if there was scandal attached to the name because of my rank. The others, not that there were so many, I avoided because I knew you would likely be present."

"Proof that you really didn't wish to know why I had pushed you in the Serpentine."

"It was because I could not face another night of my heart being crushed beneath the heel of your slipper as you took yourself away as quickly as possible."

"Your heart? What of mine?" she blurted and then quickly covered her mouth. She'd not meant to let him know just how badly she'd been hurt. It was bruised and ached even now, and she couldn't help but wonder at the what ifs. Had she only been home when he called that Season? Had he been able to call before he had learned what his brother had done…would matters have turned out differently for them?

She wanted to cry for what had been lost.

"I truly was not at home when you called, nor had anyone told me that you had." She needed him to believe her. "Had I been, I would have had the butler show you in."

Leopold stared into her eyes, his filled with uncertainty.

"That is a promise. I would not lie to you, especially about something so important. Something that could have changed how we dealt with the other."

"It could have changed everything," he agreed quietly.

"But those Seasons are over. You turned into a broody, unpleasant duke and I became an independent spinster."

"I am only churlish because I lost you before I ever had a chance to win you."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "But you already had."