Page 45 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to hers, and she was drowning in all that lovely blue.

“What can I say, Miss Bunting? I knew from the first it was too good to be true. It was just a lovely daydream. Nothing more.”

He went to move away again, but she held on tighter.

“No. I do not release you from your promise. Either you marry me or… or I shall s-sue you for breach of promise.”

“Bunty!” exclaimed her father in horror as her mother shrieked and collapsed back onto the sofa.

Bunty ignored them both, her eyes fixed on Lord Courtenay, but his expression was unreadable.

“I do not release you,” she said again. “The minister is waiting for us.”

He moved closer to her and took both of her hands in his, though he did not meet her eyes as he spoke, looking down at his feet instead, as if ashamed.

“Your parents are right to warn you off. Everything they say is true, no doubt.”

“I know of your reputation,” she said quietly. “I know of all the stories in the scandal sheets, but is that all there is to you? Is there not more?”

He did not answer, still avoiding her eyes, but Bunty pressed on.

“Will you be cruel to me, my lord? Will you gamble away my money and spend it on other women? Will you leave me alone and destitute when it is gone?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed, his blue eyes flashing. “God, no. I would never… never…” His voice cracked and he snapped his jaw shut and simply shook his head, his eyes still burning with anger.

Bunty smiled at him, knowing her instincts had guided her right. “I would like to get married now, Ludo. If… If you still wish to marry me, that is?”

“If I wish to?” he repeated, looking astonished, and then he let out a harsh breath. “I should like that above all things, Miss Bunting.”

“Bunty,” she corrected him gently.

“Bunty,” he said, staring at her in such a way she blushed and looked away from him.

“Well,” she said, trying not to sound as if she was trembling all over. “Let us not keep the minister waiting any longer.”

Ludo was married. It was the most extraordinary thing. Any moment now he’d wake up. He waited on the front step for his wife to bid goodbye to her mama, who was weeping as if her only daughter was about to climb the steps at Tyburn. He could hardly blame the poor woman. If he ever had a daughter, and a bastard like him wanted to court her, he’d have the devil put on the first ship to New South Wales without a second thought. That he now had a wife, and might one day have a daughter too, hit him like a hammer blow. A family. He might have a family. Well, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Sooner or later, and he would have to provide for them.

At least he’d cleared all his debts, he assured himself, as a hot, panicky sensation rose in his chest. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that the business he’d begun would bring him a profit, too. His schoolmasters had not written him off, after all; they’d said he had a brain in his head. He’d done rather well, actually. Better than his brothers, not that it had done him the least bit of good. In fact, he thought his father—well, not his father, but his mother’s husband—had hated him all the more for that.

At last the tearful farewells were done and Bunty joined him, taking his arm as he led her to the hired carriage. Ludo ignored her father’s wrathful gaze as he guided the man’s daughter down the stairs and handed her inside. One day, he promised himself, one day he would provide her with a carriage and four perfectly matched horses, she would have the finest clothes, a house on Mayfair, and whatever else she desired. He’d sell his soul to the devil himself if he must, but one way or another he would give her the life she deserved for being so brave, so bloody mad as to give herself into his keeping.

Ludo climbed in after his bride and closed the carriage door. All at once silence reigned as the carriage rocked into motion. He dared a glance at her to see her staring resolutely straight ahead. God, the poor thing must be terrified. He only hoped she wasn’t already regretting her rash decision, for she’d not even seen where she would be living yet.

He gathered his courage and reached out to take her hand, relieved when she curled her fingers quite naturally about his.

“Lady Courtenay,” he said, a little stunned to realise such a creature existed.

She laughed, a soft breathy sound that made his heart skip about in his chest like a newborn lamb.

“That will take some getting used to,” she said.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, hardly daring to hear the answer.

Perhaps her father was a cruel tyrant who beat her, and he was her only means of escaping. It seemed the only rational explanation.

She bit her full lower lip, worrying at it and sending desire lancing through him like a lightning strike as he fought the need to kiss the reddened flesh better.

“The truth,” he urged her, telling himself he had best know the worst now, before he had fallen any farther under her spell.