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.
She looked up at him and he stared down into eyes of the softest brown, flecked with gold, bronze, copper. Idiot. He had no farther to fall. He was utterly spellbound.
“I believe in you,” she said, and then laughed again, though he liked this sound rather less than before. “My parents think I am quite mad, but… but I told them I believed you were a good man, that you would try your best to be a good husband to me.”
Ludo stared at her in awe. “You said that? Out loud?”
“Of course out loud,” she said, giving him an odd look. “Else how would they have heard me?”
“They’re right.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. “You are quite mad.”
She stiffened, and he hurried on before he made a mull of it all.
“But you were right, too, at least… I have not been a good man, Bunty, but I will do better. I have no idea how to be a husband either, but I shall try.”
He winced, wondering how he had ever been considered an eloquent ladies’ man. The skill seemed to have been lost to him the moment he found himself alone in the library with this astonishing woman. Had that really only been two days ago?
To his delight she reached up, covered the hand at her cheek with her own, and turned into it, kissing his gloved palm and then blushing furiously. He wanted badly to pull her into his arms and kiss her, here and now, but he did not dare. The likelihood of getting carried away was too strong, and he would not embarrass her for the world. So, he did nothing more than hold her hand for the rest of the journey until they arrived outside of his front door.
The humiliation of guiding her into his bachelor accommodation was worse than he’d expected, and his expectations had been pretty bloody low. His stomach clenched to see her in such a place. It was like taking a flawless diamond and throwing it down in the dirt. So when she turned and smiled at him with delight in her eyes, he was quite lost for words.
“You bought flowers,” she said, moving to where he’d arranged them in whatever jugs and empty glasses he could find, and set them around the room. She touched her gloved finger to the white petals, and Ludo ached for her to touch him with such obvious pleasure.
“They’re Christmas roses,” he said. “They reminded me of you.”
She looked up at once, staring at him.
“They did?” she asked, obviously sceptical. “Why?”
He shrugged, feeling strangely self-conscious. He’d flattered and seduced women enough in his day, but he’d never given his heart with the words before. It was surprisingly daunting, making him feel vulnerable and exposed. “They’re perfect. They look beautiful and delicate, innocent, but they are strong and brave enough to bloom in the harshest of winters.”
Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise and she blinked, her eyes glittering brightly.
“That… That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered.
“It’s the truth.”
She stared at him a moment longer before returning her attention to the room. Her gaze fell upon two framed watercolours, and Ludo felt anxiety prickle down his back.
“Oh, these are lovely. So cleverly painted. Where did you get them?”
“Um….”
She turned to look at him. “Do you know the artist?”
“Y-Yes,” he hedged.
“They’re marvellous. Look at the candlelight burning indoors, shining through the windows of that beautiful house, and the way the twilight is making the skies all dim and yet glowing outside. You can almost feel the chill of autumn in the air and you know the fire inside is warm and cosy. It looks just the sort of place one would wish to live, as if nothing bad could ever happen there.”
Ludo allowed that comment to unfurl inside him with a burst of pleasure, but said nothing, uncertain of how she would feel about his love of painting. It was suited to young ladies and maiden aunts, but was not a manly pursuit. That point had been hammered home early on, his family having made their feeling about his ambitions to be an artist abundantly clear.
“And you have a meal ready for us, too.”
Ludo watched as she uncovered the dishes and inspected the cold supper he’d had provided by his landlady.
“It looks splendid,” she said, smiling at him as she removed her bonnet and gloves.
“Are you hungry now?” he asked, wondering why he was asking such stupid questions when all he wanted was to take her to bed.
To his great relief, she shook her head, then set the hat and gloves aside and unbuttoned her pelisse.
“I’m too nervous to eat. And I don’t say that very often,” she admitted, with a self-deprecating laugh that sounded a touch brittle. She laid her coat on a chair and clutched her arms about her stomach, blushing before looking away from him.
She was nervous, he realised. Well, of course she was. This was her wedding night, and… Holy God, she was a virgin. Not that he hadn’t known that. Of course he’d known that, but… but he hadn’t really considered that… that she’d never… that no one had ever….