“I like it here,” she said, happiness shining in her eyes. “And it smells delicious.”
“Not as delicious as you, I’ll wager,” he said, just loud enough in the burble of noise surrounding them that she heard and blushed a lovely shade of pink.
The look in her eyes said wicked man, but the smile on her lips said that she liked him just fine. Ludo sighed and realised that he was happy. How strange life was, that one could be so low, so close to despairing, and then be lifted to such dizzying heights by another.
Their meal came—pork chops and boiled potatoes and good, thick gravy—and Ludo tucked in with gusto, polishing off his serving and ordering another before Bunty was half way through hers.
“Eat up,” he chided her. “You need to keep your strength up, my lady.”
Puzzled for a moment, she looked up at him.
“Why…?” she began, and then pursed her lips as he chuckled at her.
Once their meal was over, Ludo paid and escorted her outside once more.
“Oh, Ludo, it’s snowing,” she said in delight, holding out her gloved hand and watching as the tiny flakes settled for a moment before disappearing.
“So it is. I had better take you home and warm you up, then.”
She laughed, looking up at him with such an expression of happiness that the earth seemed to pitch beneath his feet and settle anew, as though rearranged and nothing would ever be the same again. The frail, blossoming flame of hope unfurled a little farther inside him, warming him. He stopped in his tracks and she opened her mouth, no doubt to ask why, but Ludo bent his head and kissed her, there in the street, in full view of everyone.
She gave a soft gasp, and for a moment he thought she was cross, but then her mouth tilted up at the edges, a smile for him alone.
“Bunty,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse, trembling with uncertainty but wanting to tell her, to give her the truth of everything he felt. “Bunty, I—”
“Well, well, if it ain’t Ludo, and feeling up his light-o’-love in the middle of the street, no less.”
Ludo stiffened, his heart jolting in his chest, the familiar sense of panic washing over him at that voice, that vile, awful voice.
“That’s my wife you speak of, Bramwell,” he said, turning towards the face of his nightmares.
Stupid. He was a grown man, big enough to pick Bramwell up and shake him in one hand, yet somehow he was never a grown man with his big brother. Instead, Ludo found himself reduced to a snivelling child, pissing his pants with terror of what the beast would do next.
“Ah, yes. Heard you got yourself caught in a snare, big, dumb ox that you are. Thinking with your prick as ever, eh?” Bramwell turned those cold, green eyes to Bunty. “And you, you foolish chit, did you think he had his hands on the family money, my sweet? He ain’t and won’t ever have.”
Ludo felt the way she stiffened with indignation, and drew her in, close to his side. He would not let Bramwell hurt her. Surely he could manage that at least. Couldn’t he? He felt frozen, his guts churning.
“You heard wrong, my lord. It was a tryst, and one I was eager for, I assure you. Incidentally, I wouldn’t touch your money with a ten-foot pole, and neither would Ludo,” Bunty said, with all the poise of a queen speaking to a lowly pleb.
Ludo stared at her in awe.
“Ah, a feisty one, and toothsome too,” Bramwell said, leering at Bunty in a way that made Ludo long to knock his teeth down his throat.
The hand that wasn’t holding Bunty plastered to his side closed into a fist, but he couldn’t breathe. Something cold and panicky held him immobile. Years of being locked in cupboards and small spaces, of pranks that had seen him tumbling down stairs or tripped on his face, of myriad little everyday cruelties and bigger ones too made him freeze with terror. Dangling him by his ankles from an upper storey window had been one of Bramwell’s favourites until Ludo had become too big to hold. Bramwell hadn’t realised his limitations before he’d almost dropped Ludo on his head, mind you.
“No, not in the least feisty, just honest,” Bunty said with a thin smile. “You see, I recognise a bully when I see one.”
“Ha!” Bramwell seemed genuinely amused by that. “One need not be a bully when a fellow’s such a weakling. Don’t let all that brawn fool you, my flower. He’s a pathetic worm. No, you come see me if it’s a man you’re wanting, I’ll see you right….”
Bramwell raised his hand, as if he would touch Bunty. He reached for her, cruelty in every bone, down to his marrow, and something inside Ludo fractured. Bunty was everything good in his life, a golden gossamer thread, a bright glimmer of hope, of truth and kindness and trust, and he loved… loved her. Yet Bramwell reached out as if he had the right to lay his filthy hand on her lovely skin. Ludo reacted. He didn’t know what he’d done at first, what exactly had happened, but the next moment Bramwell lay sprawled on the floor, ungainly and ridiculous, his hat having tumbled away into the gutter. Bramwell was gasping, fishlike, his glassy eyes dazed, and he was bleeding like a stuck pig. There had been the crunch of bone, Ludo thought. Bramwell’s nose, perhaps? He looked at his fist, a little stunned. He’d done it. After so many years of wishing he had the courage, he’d done it. He had fought so many bigger men—far more dangerous men—and yet Bramwell had always effortlessly reduced him to that terrified child.
No longer.
Ludo turned to look at Bunty, who was beaming at him. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him.
“Well done!”
He fought the urge to preen, aware he’d not acted as a gentleman, but too relieved to have acted at all to give a damn. He looked back to see Mr Middleton, the family’s man of business, helping Bramwell up. He’d not even noticed him before now. That was Middleton all over, though: never noticed, always in the background, quietly smoothing over the difficulties Ludo’s loud-mouthed brothers and his devil of a father created. No. Not his father. Ludo was none of his, thank God.
Bramwell looked shaken, and older than Ludo remembered. Well, he was older, fifteen years older. He’d been the nightmare that had terrorised Ludo once his mother had died. Bramwell and his brother George had been partners in crime, devising ways to torture Ludo with their father’s blessing until he was afraid of his own shadow.
“Stay away from my wife,” Ludo managed, clutching Bunty’s hand.
He drew strength from her, strength enough to look into the eyes that had always made him afraid, but without flinching. Never again would he flinch. He’d fight dragons for Bunty. He could deal with this… this obnoxious, overweight fool. Ludo allowed himself to really look at Bramwell, and saw the paunch, the double chin and bloodshot eyes. He was getting old, old and weak, years of dissipation and cruelty shown plainly on a face that did not understand kindness, tenderness, or compassion. Ludo pitied him.
“I don’t want to see you again, Bramwell, and you may tell George to expect the same treatment. Stay away from us. I want none of you, and we certainly have no interest in your money.”
He looked at Bunty, saw her eyes shining with admiration, and with belief in him.
“We don’t need it,” he added.
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.
Bramwell sent him a look of pure loathing, one hand clutching a handkerchief to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. Middleton, efficient as ever, had hailed a hackney and helped Bramwell inside. He hesitated before moving back to Ludo.