The Scoundrel Who Loved Me

by Laura Landon

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tall structures—much like the ones in Vauxhall—lit with hundreds if not thousands of candles illuminated sections of Sydney Park. Lanterns were strung in other areas, but the bright lights left parts of the park even darker than they would usually seem. Orchestras played and people began to dance.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Laia marveled next to Guy.

  “Next Season I’ll take you to Vauxhall. It is even grander, and you will be able to see the Catherine Wheel as well.” Since they had arrived, he’d kept propriety in mind and not shown her the love he was feeling. By this time all of Bath would know about her betrothal to his uncle. Somehow they would have to find a way to limit any talk.

  “I have heard of a Catherine Wheel. How wonderful it would be to see one.” She looked up at him, her face glowing with happiness. “Oh, Guy, I would so love to see London!”

  “You will not only be able to see it, but you will have an elegant townhouse in which to live when Parliament is in session. You will also have the opportunity to host political parties.” He held his breath. She wanted to be politically active, but did she wish to be a political hostess.

  “That is perfect. I will ask Meg the best way to go about it.” They had reached another of the towers, and she stopped to gaze at it while he let out the breath.

  How had his life become so wonderful? His mother would say—Drat! Guy had forgot about his mother? He’d have to write her first thing in the morning. She would never forgive him for marrying Laia and not telling her first. They still had a few days, but he’d better send the letter by messenger. Having Laia in his life right now was fraught with difficulties, but they would all be worth it.

  Their party strolled the gardens for another half hour or so when Hawksworth said, “Meg is getting tired. I’m afraid I will have to shorten our evening.

  “I am ready to leave,” Laia said even though Guy knew she wasn’t.

  “I am as well,” her sister agreed.

  Markville joined them as they made their way to Laura Place. What Guy wouldn’t give to be able to take Laia back to his house tonight.

  Soon. At least he knew he’d be able to marry the woman he loved.

  . . .

  The next morning he joined Laia and her brother as they drove to view the property Somerset wanted. The Duchess of Somerset took the opportunity to ride with them and visit her younger children.

  Meg and the duchess were already seated in the coach when Guy assisted Laia up the stairs. Keeping his voice to a whisper, he asked, “Does your mother know about us?”

  She shook her head. “At least I do not think she does. Yet it has occurred to me that she might not wish to know certain things.”

  Knowing Somerset’s reputation, that would be wise. He wanted to kiss her again, but that had not been possible since the first time. “I’ll see you when we arrive.”

  Three-quarters of an hour later, after leaving the duchess at Roselands, Guy pointed out an old, rambling Elizabethan manor house nestled in a copse of trees. Across a nearby meadow a tall tower rose as if guarding the house.

  Guy helped Laia down from the coach. “This is it.”

  “It is beautiful.” She turned and gazed. “How long has it been in your family?”

  “According to my secretary, not more than a century. It came to us through a marriage. I’d forgotten all about it until I received the details, then I remembered my father bringing me here once or twice when I was a child.” He glanced down at her. “It’s much newer than the house. I think it was my great-grandmother’s father who decided he should have a castle but was talked into settling for the tower.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Believe me when I tell you that castles are not all that comfortable.”

  “I’ve been in enough old houses not to argue.” He held out his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we inspect the castle, my lady?”

  “Lead the way.” Laia looked over her shoulder. “Damon, are you coming?”

  “I’ll meet you there.” He smiled, but Guy had seen that look before, and it usually meant Hawksworth expected trouble.

  Guy glanced around. Finally, he saw where the grass had been crushed as if a coach had run over it, but there were no signs that an intruder was on the grounds. It could have been one of the caretakers.

  He and Laia were almost to the tower when she twirled into his arms and kissed him. “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have met you.”

  Drawing her closer to him, he brushed his lips across hers, but she was having none of it, and pulled his head down until their mouths melded. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.”

  Several long moments later, they continued their stroll. The folly had two round towers attached to a shorter square center building. Mullioned windows had been added to the center building and long narrow openings to the towers.

  Laia gazed up at it. “It looks as if it has rooms.”

  “As I recall, there are no chambers, but it is certainly large enough for them.” Guy scanned the windows for any sign that someone was in the tower.

  “Perhaps your ancestor either lost interest or could not afford to finish it.”

  He grinned at her serious expression. “Or perhaps he just wanted to be able to look at the view from the top.”

  “It must be wonderful. How far can one see?”

  “I truly do not remember. I was more interested in the wooden swords my father brought to play with. Do you wish to go up?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her smile lit her beautiful face as if he were giving her a treat.

  The door swung open on well-oiled hinges giving way to a hall and a massive wooden staircase. When they reached the top landing, he opened the door for her.

  Laia stepped through and a shrill scream rent the air. He rushed through the door to find her several feet away, being held against the opening of one of the turrets by Bolton.

  “Lady Aglaia, I presume,” his uncle said in a voice so soft and pleasant that bumps rose on the back of Guy’s neck.

  She swallowed, cutting a furtive look his way. He prayed she’d shake her head, instead she asked, “Who are you?”

  “Do you not recognize your betrothed, my dear? I thought the miniature I sent you quite did me justice.”

  She winced as the duke’s fingers dug into her arms. Even though Laia did her best to present an impassive mien, her breathing was rapid and one eye began to twitch. She had to be terrified.

  Guy had to figure out a way to get her away from that madman. “Let her go.”

  “Do not come any closer, nephew.” His uncle’s grip on her arm tightened. “You would not wish the lovely Lady Aglaia to fall from this height.”

  Light footsteps sounded from the stairs. It had to be Hawksworth. Hopefully, he’d brought a weapon. If Guy could keep his uncle talking, the blackguard might not notice they were about to have company.

  She closed her eyes for a second, and her chest heaved as she took a breath. “Why?”

  Void of all expression, Bolton glanced at her. “The opportunity presented itself. You really should not make love in public, my dear. Anyone could see you.” Bolton’s eyes focused on Guy, hatred he’d never seen before speared him. “I knew you would play me false.”

  Laia began to inch along the wall away from the space to the safety of the brick turret, ever so slightly edging Bolton back to the empty space. Most women would have had hysterics, yet despite her fear, she kept her head about her.

  “I could not allow you to murder her ladyship for failing to breed.”

  Laia was almost there. If Guy could keep his uncle’s attention on him, perhaps she would succeed. Still more was needed. He had to get Bolton away from Laia, and there was only one way Guy knew of accomplishing that. “None of your wives have quickened. Not even your mistress has born you a child. It cannot be due to their inability. The fault is yours.”

  Bolton’s face mottled
red with rage, and he lunged toward Guy. The crack of a pistol sounded near his ear, and Bolton stopped, his body canted back, and he toppled over the ledge.

  In a blink of an eye, Laia was in Guy’s arms, tear streaming down her cheeks. “Are you hurt? Did he hit you?” Before he could answer her hands and eyes were searching for a wound. He stroked her back as she slumped against him, burying her head in his shoulder, giving in to her emotions. After several moments, in a shaky voice she said, “I was never so frightened in my life.”

  “You’re safe now. It was Hawksworth’s weapon you heard.” he murmured, stroking her back as he attempted to replace some of the warmth she’d lost.

  “But you almost got yourself killed.” Laia leaned back and punched him. “What were you thinking? Don’t you ever do anything like that again!”

  Guy started to laugh as she pummeled him harder. “Sweetheart, I was never at any risk. Even if he had fires, he was always a horrible shot.”

  “Paulet was giving me a chance to shoot the bounder.” Hawksworth said as he stilled Laia’s fists. “If you don’t cease, Paulet will think he’s marrying a mad woman.”

  “Never.” He kissed her forehead, then tilted her head up and found her lips. “I’ve never seen a braver lady.”

  Hawksworth harrumphed and strode to the turrets. “At least your former betrothed won’t be able to kill anyone else. He’s dead.”

  That got her attention. “How can you be sure?”

  She started to pull away from Guy, but he wasn’t going to let her go. “There are rocks on that side of the tower. It will not be something you want to see.”

  She began to shiver.

  “Let’s go.”

  “The horses are waiting.” Hawksworth grinned at Guy. “You’ll have to carry her with you until we get back to the coach. Take her home. I’ll have the magistrate called.”

  He shook his head. “I should be the one to do that.”

  “No, you should not, your grace. The less you have to do with your uncle’s death, the better it will be for everyone.” Hawksworth’s eyes cut to Laia.

  He was right. If the whole truth got out, they’d have a scandal on their hands. That was not the way to start a marriage.

  . . .

  Guy buried his uncle three days later. Several days after that, the magistrate found that Bolton had died from his fall from the tower. Later that day, Guy wrote the Duke of Somerset.

  . . .

  “Your grace, her grace sent this by special messenger.” Belling hurried into the Duke of Somerset’s study in the dukedom’s Scottish castle. “There is also a letter from the Duke of Bolton.”

  “Give me her grace’s missive first.”

  Belling handed Somerset a letter written in his duchess’s hand. “I wonder what this is about.” He took his knife and slid it under the seal.

  My darling,

  There is no good way to tell you what I am about to write. The former Duke of Bolton attempted to murder Aglaia and is now dead. Fortunately, Hawksworth and his friend, Mr. Paulet, now the Duke of Bolton, were present and saved her. Hawksworth, not the current duke, shot him and he died from the fall he took.

  Apparently, the former duke was also privately accused of murdering at least one of his wives. Therefore, I am pleased with the result. I know you could not possibly have guessed what the devil was up to or you would not have betrothed our daughter to such a monster.

  You may wish to know that the current duke has asked Aglaia to marry him, and she, knowing you desired a match with Bolton, agreed to wed the current duke. If you should choose to attend the ceremony, it will take place one week after her birthday.

  I expect you will receive a letter from the Duke of Bolton in a day or so. I asked him to wait to send you his letter until you received my missive.

  Your devoted wife,

  C.

  Somerset scowled as he open Bolton’s letter.

  My dear Somerset,

  I assume you have received your wife’s note. Since that was sent, I have discovered that the property the former Duke of Bolton was to have given to you is part of the dukedom’s entail, and thus, cannot be legally sold or conveyed to you.

  You will be pleased to know that I have decided to honor the agreement that your daughter, Lady Aglaia, marry the Duke of Bolton. With the exception of the property, and an increase in the funds I have made for my future wife and children, the settlement will remain the same.

  Bolton

  “Damn and blast the blackguard to Perdition!” Somerset pounded his desk and watched with some satisfaction as his secretary jumped.

  That Aglaia marry a man of whom he had not approved was in no way acceptable. Somerset had a right, a duty, to increase his holdings and the marriages of his children were the only way to achieve that goal.

  The Fates, though, seemed to be against him. How the devil could he end the betrothal and not cause a scandal? His usual methods wouldn’t work.

  “There is a new Duke of Bolton, and he has discovered that the last one was ready to cheat me. The property I wanted is entailed.”

  “A new duke, your grace?” Belling’s voice was slightly faint.

  “Indeed. It appears that I was mistaken in the last one’s character.” Somerset ground his teeth. No one would know how furious he was about this turn of events. “Hawksworth has taken care of the matter for me. Lady Aglaia shall marry the new duke. I wish to depart within the next two days for Somerset. I shall journey to Bath the day before the wedding.”

  Belling’s lips moved as if he wanted to speak.

  “Open your budget, man.”

  “Do you not mind that she shall marry a man you haven’t met?”

  Of all the idiotic questions. Of course, he minded. Damn Hawksworth and that harridan he’d married. Somerset had no doubt his traitorous eldest son was in the thick of this new betrothal.

  Hawksworth delighted in defying Somerset at every turn. If there was a way out of this mess, he’d find it. The only problem is that unlike his sons, he had to ensure his daughter’s reputation was unharmed. That made things much more difficult. “I know the current duke’s reputation, and he’s a friend of my son’s. Aside from that, one duke or another, what does it matter?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “And this is the master’s bedchamber.” Since the former Duke of Bolton’s death, Guy, Laia and the others had eschewed public entertainments. That, however, had meant he and she had not been able to spend much time together. Fortuitously, his housekeeper had asked when the future duchess would inspect the house. Thus, giving Laia the perfect opportunity to finally be alone with her betrothed.

  He opened the door from Laia’s future rooms into a room where a massive bed took up most of the space.

  “Your aunt slept in this?” She dragged her gaze from the bed to him.

  “Ah, no. I found this disassembled in the attic. Her bed didn’t fit me,” he said a little sheepishly.

  She allowed her attention to be distracted—as it was a great deal—by his tall broad frame. “Is it comfortable?”

  “I find it to be extremely comfortable.” A wicked glint came into his eyes. Thanks to her conversation with Meg, Laia now knew what that particular look meant and a great deal of other useful things as well. Mostly, her sister-in-law had said to follow her instincts and not be embarrassed.

  Trailing her hand along the walnut footboard and on to the mattress, she raised one brow in what she hoped was a sultry glance. “And if one wished to be certain?”

  “God help me. I was going to wait until our wedding night,” Guy groaned, and it was all she could do to stop from giggling.

  Laia didn’t know, or care, who moved first, but she was in his arms. Exactly where she wished to be. His firm mouth crushed hers. Whenever he had kissed her before, he had never gone beyond stroking her derrière. This time, with one hand he pressed her to him so that she felt the hard ridge of his member. His other hand cupped her breast. Frissons of pleasure speared th
rough her from her breasts to her mons, and she wiggled against him.

  “I have been thinking, dreaming, about this for weeks.” His lips moved to her neck, and her nipples turned into hard buds waiting for his attention.

  Her bodice sagged as he released the buttons on the back of her gown from their moorings. She let her gown and petticoats fall, then Guy unlaced her short stays, and they joined the rest of her garments in a puddle on the floor.

  “My God, you’re beautiful.” He’d stepped back, and his eyes traveled over her.

  “You, on the other hand, have too many clothes.” She unraveled his cravat and pulled it off as he divested himself of his jacket and shirt.

  For a few long moments she could only stare at his chest, dark reddish curls covered his muscles and tapered down his flat stomach. When she spread her fingers over his torso, he groaned. Then she traced the path down to his pantaloons and unfastened the buttons of his placket. Just as she had been told it would, his member sprang ready into her hand.

  “You are going to be the death of me,” he growled.

  She landed on the bed and was promptly stripped of her shoes and stockings. “Blast it all! Boots should not be this difficult to remove.”

  Laia took the time to admire his tight bottom. A second later first one then the other boot hit the rug with soft thuds. Picking her up, he placed her head gently on the pillows, and began taking out her hair pins before running his fingers through her hair.

  “This is like silk.” Guy’s lips moved over hers, then down her body, sipping, and licking until she was on fire. “Your whole body feels like the softest, finest silk, and you taste of apricots.” He moved her legs apart, and finding her center, licked.

  Something inside her broke and warm waves of pleasure engulfed her. Then he was on top of her, his member at her entrance. “I am told this will hurt the first time.”

  “I’ve been told the same thing.” Laia clutched as much of Guy as she could reach to her. “Do not stop.”

  He plunged into her. She inhaled at the sharp pain, and he stopped. “Give it a minute.”