Bunty was everything good in life. She was kind and brave and clever and… and she would give him a chance. He ran up the steps to the front door and let himself back into his rooms, feeling his heart sink to his boots as he realised no amount of cleaning and tidying would turn them into the kind of place Bunty would expect to live in—like a house in Mayfair.
Oh, God. She would hate him.
“Bunty, darling. I’ve been thinking. We were too hasty. You need not go through with it,” her father said.
Bunty looked around from her sentry position by the front window to see her parents standing side by side.
“What?” she asked, a little irritated to have her attention taken from watching the road.
Lord Courtenay—Ludo — should be here soon. They were to be married at two o’clock. Her father had arranged the special licence and the minister was seated in the back parlour with a cup of tea whilst he awaited the arrival of her bridegroom.
“I did a little investigating about Lord Courtenay at my club yesterday, and the reports are far from good. Worse than we had realised, even. Your mother and I have been talking and… oh, Bunty. My dear child, we cannot help but think that in such circumstances, ruination might be better than marriage to… to such a man.”
Bunty’s eyes grew wide as she realised her father was in earnest.
“But, Father, I should be shunned by polite society. What would I do? Where would I go?”
“We thought perhaps your Great-Aunt Hildebrand,” her mother said, her voice quavering. “She lives very quietly, no one there would know you, or would know about….”
She sobbed and buried her face in her handkerchief.
“You think I would be better served living with an old lady of eighty in the wilds of Cumbria than marrying Lord Courtenay?” Bunty replied, astonished and horrified.
“If it were any other man, my dear.” Her father’s eyes were filled with pity. “But Courtenay… Everyone knows he’s a bastard, for all his father was duped into acknowledging him. He was disowned by his family, and he’s raised hell at every opportunity since. He’ll likely squander your fortune and subject you to heaven alone knows what indignities. He has no money, no prospects. What can you hope to gain by marrying him?”
“But it’s all arranged,” Bunty protested. “You went and got the licence; you agreed the terms with him. You cannot change your mind now.”
“No,” her father said, his voice firm. “But you can, and no one would think less of you for not marrying such a man.”
Bunty stared at her father. She knew everything he’d said was likely true. It was impossible to deny the accusations against Ludo. The scandals were legion, his reputation blacker than pitch. Leopards don’t change their spots, whispered a little voice in her head.
Her breath caught as she heard the front door close and, a moment later, the butler announced him. Bunty’s heart thudded as Ludo appeared in the doorway. Oh, but he was magnificent. His powerful thighs were clad in buff breeches, the embroidered cream waistcoat and dark blue coat exquisitely cut, highlighting his impressive physique. Bunty could not draw a breath at all as he bowed low to them and then moved towards her, smiling with such warmth that she wanted to cry.
“Miss Bunting,” he said, a look in his eyes that was just for her as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “How lovely you look. I am the most fortunate of men.”
Tears stung her eyes as she realised he was sincere. He truly thought her lovely.
“My lord.” Bunty jumped at the force of her father’s voice. “We have spoken with our daughter, and there has been a change of plan. There is something she would like to say to you.”
Ludo stiffened, looking from her father back to her. Bunty flushed, horrified and uncertain of what to say, until she saw the hurt in his eyes. It was only there for a moment before his expression was wiped clean. He stood tall and did not meet her gaze.
“Of course,” he said, with no inflection in his voice. “I quite understand. There is no need to distress yourself, Miss Bunting. I believe I know what you wish to say.”
He bowed, stiff and formal, and turned away from her.
Panic gripped Bunty at the terrible idea she might lose her chance to know this man better, to know more of the tender soul who had kissed her as if she was everything he’d ever wanted, who had told her she was lovely and actually meant it. She reached out and grasped his arm.
“Wait!”
He stilled utterly, but did not turn back to her.
“Is that it?” she said, hearing her voice trembling. “You’ve nothing to say, no argument to make?”
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.