The Scoundrel Who Loved Me

by Laura Landon

  I do not wish to see more gentlemen. I’m having enough trouble with two already.

  “I should have stayed in bed.” Laia had a strong urge to pull the bedcovers over her again.

  “You are still in bed,” her sister pointed out. “Mama expects you in the morning room in an hour.”

  “An hour?” She groaned.

  “Yes, and you will want to see the flowers and read some of the poetry.” Euphrosyne practically skipped out of the room.

  Three quarters of an hour later, Laia made her way down the steps and into the drawing room. Her sister had not exaggerated. Dozens of bouquets filled the room. There were probably no blooms left in Bath.

  As she gazed at the display, one bunch of pink roses caught her attention. She reached for the card, but knew before she opened it who they were from.

  Mr. Paulet.

  To the most beautiful lady in Bath

  My dear Lady Laia,

  Thank you for the dances and conversation.

  I beg you will allow me to call on you today.

  Yr devoted Servant,

  G

  Her heart began to beat faster and butterflies took up residence in her stomach. This short missive was much better than any poetry she could have received. It proved that Mr. Paulet felt as strongly for her as she did for him.

  And that was . . . that was a disaster.

  Tears started in her eyes. No matter how she felt about Mr. Paulet or him about her, she couldn’t marry him. Her father would be furious if she did not wed Bolton. Laia didn’t care so much for herself. She would be beyond his reach, but he would forbid them all contact with her. He’d lock her sisters up. Euphrosyne especially. If she had any chance at all of marrying Lord Markville, Laia refusing to marry Bolton and instead wedding his nephew would ruin it. In fact, Father might even insist Euphrosyne marry Bolton in Laia’s stead.

  She could not do that to her sister.

  As if called, Euphrosyne strolled into the room, going immediately to a bouquet of yellow flowers. They would be from Markville. But this time Laia couldn’t fault her sister when she herself was forming an attachment for a gentleman after her father had already promised her to Bolton.

  What a mull she had made of things.

  “Markville has already written Father asking permission to marry me.”

  Laia’s jaw dropped and she quickly shut it again. “That is wonderful.”

  “Neither of us thinks he will allow us to wed.” Her sister’s round jaw firmed. “We might go to Scotland instead.”

  She could not believe what she’d just heard. “Scotland?” Euphrosyne nodded. “You would risk a scandal?”

  “We would be chaperoned by Sarah and Jeremy.”

  Laia dropped into a chair. “But what about our sisters?”

  “Father is never going to allow any of us to marry for love. What we do will not change that. How could he be harsher than he already is? We cannot go into the town alone, we cannot walk outside of the garden by ourselves. Even when we are in the garden we are watched.” Euphrosyne took Laia’s hands in hers. “If I could change any of that by marrying whom he chooses, I would. But, I cannot, and neither can you. All you will do is sacrifice yourself for nothing.”

  She stared into her sister’s militant eyes for the longest time. In the background the door opened and closed. Was Euphrosyne right? After all, they did not need Laia to marry for money or position. Father wanted something, but it was not vital to the family’s happiness. And Bolton had shown no interest in her at all. Could she wed where she loved? Would Mr. Paulet even ask her?

  Laia took her sister’s hands and gently squeezed them. “You must follow your own road, as I shall follow mine.” She gave Euphrosyne a rueful smile. “Wherever that leads me.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Guy arrived at the house Hawksworth had rented shortly after ten o’clock the next morning. When he followed the butler into the breakfast room, Meg had just poured a cup of tea and was reading a newssheet. Hawksworth was doing the same.

  Oh, for domestic tranquility. Guy could easily imagine this exact vignette with Laia and himself.

  “Mr. Paulet,” their butler intoned.

  “I wondered who was disturbing our peace.” Damon put down his paper.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you this early, but I need help.”

  “This is interesting.” Meg slowly lowered her newssheet. “Guy Paulet almost never needs help. Please, take a seat. Have you broken your fast?”

  He should have known she would bring up his rejection of her aid for one of his projects.

  She poured him a cup of tea. “No, I came straight over here.”

  “Whatever it is can wait until you have sustenance. One always thinks better on a full stomach. If you do not believe me, ask my husband.”

  Hawksworth filled a plate for Guy, and Meg pushed the toast toward him. After he’d finished half his food and another cup of tea, he said, “It’s Laia.”

  One of Meg’s dark brows rose. “Laia?”

  Drat and damn. This is what he got for calling her by her name in his head. “Lady Laia.”

  “Too late for that.” Hawksworth leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Does this mean you have decided to marry her?”

  Guy wanted to run a finger beneath his collar. “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” his friend said. “How do you plan to go about courting her?”

  “That is not the complicated part.” He was tempted to rake his fingers through his hair in frustration. “First I have to convince her that she is not going to marry my blasted uncle.”

  “That might not be as difficult as you believe.” Meg’s eyes had a sly look. “I have a plan to do just that.”

  Now what was she up to? “If you are thinking of bringing Lady Engle into this, please reconsider. She has no direct proof.”

  Apparently undaunted, Meg continued, “I had tea with her the other day and there is one piece of information she had not previously divulged. Bolton planned to divorce Sophia. He had two men who would swear to having conjugal relations with her. Her illness began after she refused.”

  Guy shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

  “For the Lords, probably not. But to convince Laia”—Meg’s brows rose again—“it will be sufficient.”

  If he could have thought of another way to turn Laia away from marriage with his uncle, Guy would have taken it, unfortunately, he could not. “Very well, then. You may try it.”

  Meg’s smile reminded him strongly of a cat who’d caught its prey. He was glad she was on his side. “I suggest you make the most of tomorrow night’s illumination.”

  “My lord, my lady.” The butler entered the breakfast room. “Lady Aglaia to see her ladyship.”

  “Meg”—Laia stood in the door as if frozen, her gaze on Guy—“Forgive me. I did not know you had company.”

  He took in her worried expression and wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms. “I was just leaving.”

  “No.” A dull red colored her cheeks. “I mean . . .” She stammered to a halt, but her eyes never left his.

  Before he knew it, he had risen and started toward her. Hawksworth coughed, stopping Guy, but his and Laia’s gazes held for a few seconds longer.

  “Show Lady Laia to my parlor,” Meg instructed. “I shall join you in a few moments.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After the butler left with Laia, Meg stood and shook out her skirts. “There is no time like the present.”

  Hawksworth poured Guy another cup of tea. “You might as well remain. I doubt this will take long.”

  Guy wouldn’t have left in any event. If he had his choice, he’d never leave Laia.

  . . .

  Laia paced Meg’s small parlor waiting for her sister-in-law to appear. Fortunately, she did not have to wait long.

  The door opened and Meg glided in, her sharp blue gaze on Laia. “I take it you would like to discuss something with me?”

  Taking
a breath, Laia nodded. Earlier, she thought she had fallen in love with Mr. Paulet. After seeing him, she was certain she had. “I have come to a decision.”

  Meg sank onto the loveseat and motioned to the chair next to it. “Please, have a seat. Shall I ring for tea, or have you had your fill.”

  Mama always said tea helped any crisis, and this was definitely a huge one. “Tea would be wonderful.”

  Not able to pace, Laia fidgeted as she never had before. The fringe on her shawl seemed to fascinate her as did her pearl ring on her right hand. Finally, the tea tray arrived, and Meg poured.

  Once the door had closed behind the servant, Meg said, “Now then, how can I help you?”

  Laia turned her cup in the saucer, before taking a quick drink and setting the cup back down. “I do not wish to marry Bolton.”

  “Because you are in love with Guy Paulet?”

  She wasn’t sure she was ready to tell anyone of her feelings, but this was Meg, and Laia knew her sister-in-law would never betray her trust. “That is one reason.” She took another sip of tea. “The other is that Bolton has shown no interest in me.”

  Meg poured them both another cup of tea. “Mr. Paulet aside, I think you are making a wise decision. It has come to my attention that Bolton wished to divorce his last duchess when she did not become pregnant. When she refused, she began to sicken and eventually died.” Meg’s lips firmed for a moment. “I think the reason he has no children is due to his inability to procreate. Neither Damon nor I wish you to be his next victim.”

  Suddenly, what Mr. Paulet had said made sense. “Will Damon tell Father?”

  Her sister-in-law shrugged. “Most likely. Yet, although I hate saying it, I am not sure it will matter. Damon has discovered that Bolton has a property your father wants.”

  Sarah was right as well. Rage welled up in Laia as it never had before, and her hands began to shake. “So I am to be traded to a man who might be a murderer for land?”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Meg’s calm, steady voice soothed Laia’s nerves. “And I believe I shall have a great deal to say.” She rose from the loveseat. “Now, I am almost certain there is a gentleman who would very much like to see you.”

  Laia stood as well. “What will you do?”

  “Damon and I shall discuss the matter. We will let you know what we decide.” Her sister-in-law started toward the door then stopped. “He received a copy of the settlement agreements from your father’s solicitor.”

  “That’s how he knew about the property.” Of course it was. He would have read the contracts before giving them to her.

  “Indeed.” Meg opened the door. “Shall I tell Guy to come to you?”

  “Yes.” Laia nodded. “Yes, please.”

  Seconds after she closed the door it opened again. Mr. Paulet strode in and gathered her into his arms. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have an urgent need to kiss you.”

  Before she could acquiesce, his lips met hers, sweeping his tongue into her open mouth. Oh, my! Who knew a kiss could be like this? Laia touched her tongue to his, and he made a growling sound and pulled her tighter against him. At the same time she threw her arms around his neck.

  He slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss, and Laia couldn’t help but to moan with pleasure. She could happily remain here all day, and longer. One of his hands slipped to her derrière. She should protest, but his caresses burned though the muslin and linen making her bottom and nether parts tingle.

  Then he broke the kiss. He touched his forehead to hers. “Forgive me.”

  “No. I wanted you to kiss me.” Laia cupped his cheek, pressing her lips to his.

  “I’m not making myself clear.” His lips broadened into a smile. “I do not want forgiveness for kissing you, but for doing it before I declared myself.”

  “Mr. Paulet—” He touched his fingers to her mouth.

  “Guy. You may call me Mr. Paulet when we are in public, but please call me Guy in private.”

  She had always had a fondness for the name Guy, and she was glad it was attached to a gentleman she loved. “Then you must call me Laia.”

  “In my mind, I have called you Laia since shortly after we met.” Her face heated again, and she stared into his molten silver eyes. “It took me a while longer to figure out I loved you.”

  She felt as if she were standing on a cloud. To think that she had found a man who loved her as she loved him. It was almost too good to be true. “You said you had something to say to me?”

  “Come, let us talk.” He led her to the loveseat. Once they were settled next to each other, he put his arm around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I should be down on one knee, but then I couldn’t hold you. Laia, I would like more than anything in the world to marry you. Will you have me?”

  “Yes.” She said the word without thinking, ignoring the consequences. “I would love to be your wife.” She turned her head and Guy kissed her again. “How will we manage it?”

  He let out a sigh. “I’m not sure. I only know that we will. No one will take you away from me.”

  “That is how I feel as well.” She snuggled closer to him, praying that they would marry.

  “When shall we have the wedding?” Guy nuzzled her hair, kissing her again. “Do you wish for a large wedding breakfast?”

  Impossible man. Laia grinned to herself. “Here am I worried that something will stop us and you simply want a date.”

  “If there was one thing being in the army taught me, it was to have a battle plan.”

  “And am I a battle to be won?” she asked in a flirtatious tone.

  Yet, his eyes didn’t twinkle with pleasure, they were hard and serious. “I expect someone, either your father or my uncle, possibly both of them, will try to stop us.”

  Laia bit down on her lower lip. Father had attempted to stop her brothers. “Let us marry on my birthday.”

  Guy seemed to relax a little. “We will require a settlement agreement of some sort. To protect you and our children.”

  Whatever her dowry had been, she doubted she would receive it. “I might come to you a pauper.”

  “If you do”—he shrugged—“I have wealth enough for both of us.”

  “I would like to see the property that was so important my father would ignore the talk about Bolton.” She had tried to be fair and think that perhaps her father had not known about the duke’s other wives, but she could not do it. Her father knew almost everything that occurred.

  Guy lifted her onto his lap. “You are not the only one in your family to discover what Somerset is. It has nothing to do with you.”

  Then why did she feel like her value as a person had been decreased? “No?”

  “No.” Damon strolled into the room accompanied by Meg. “Our father cares only for the dukedom. That does not reflect on you, or me, or Frank and Quartus. It will not reflect on our other brothers and sisters. Your mother loves you enough to write to Meg and tell her what had happened.”

  Her brother slid a look at Guy and he lifted Laia off his lap. So much for cuddling with her new betrothed.

  . . .

  Kentwell strode into Bolton’s study. “Your Grace, I have news of Mr. Paulet.”

  He glanced up from the books he’d been working on. “And?”

  “He has been seen in Bath in the company of the Marquis of Hawksworth and his family. Including Lady Aglaia.” His secretary cleared his throat. “Escorting Lady Aglaia to events and around Bath. But only in the company of her family.”

  “Need I ask how you came by this information?” Kentwell might only be the youngest son of an earl, but his family was well connected.

  “My mother via my aunt who received a letter from my grandmother who was in Bath taking the waters. She recognized him due to his resemblance to his late father.”

  In other words to Bolton himself. Although, knowing how he felt about his nephew, Kentwell would never mention that.

  Damn Paulet! Bolton had held a suspic
ion he would somehow involve himself with his betrothed. “Cancel my engagements. I shall travel to Bath immediately.”

  “Yes, your grace. I’ll send a messenger to the York.”

  “And get that special license. As long as I’m there, I may as well get married.”

  “Immediately, your grace.”

  Bolton watched with satisfaction as his secretary dashed out of the study. The next time a seat in the Commons came open, he would have Kentwell stand for it. At least one of his seats would vote the way he wished.

  For the moment, he must decide how to deal with his nephew and his betrothed. Nothing Kentwell had said indicated that there was an attachment forming between the two. That Paulet was frequently found in Hawksworth’s company was not out of the ordinary. Still, Bolton always trusted his intuition, and it would be better to discover what, exactly, was going on.

  He could not afford to lose Lady Aglaia. His chances of finding another suitable lady to marry were not good.

  . . .

  Bolton was unable to depart for Bath until the following morning. His tolerance for travel had diminished with his age, therefore, he’d spent one night on the road. He’d sent his valet off as soon as possible to prepare his chamber.

  Kentwell had informed Bolton that there would be an illumination on the evening of his arrival, and that Hawksworth and his sisters were likely to be present. That would give Bolton time to observe his betrothed and nephew without them knowing he was present.

  The next day he arrived at The York in Bath and gave instructions that no one was to know he was present. That evening he attended the illumination in Sydney Gardens.

  It took Bolton almost an hour to locate Guy Paulet’s party. He recognized Hawksworth first. With him was a woman Bolton assumed was Lady Hawksworth, three ladies and three gentlemen. One of whom was his nephew. He watched the party until he became bored, but could see nothing wrong with Paulet’s behavior or that of the lady he squired.

  A journey to Bath for nothing. He’d return in the morning via the property he was giving up for this bride.