“Please,” he said urgently, and then hurried back to the hackney and got in.
***
Ludo was silent as they walked back home, and Bunty did not press him, aware that he needed a little quiet to gather himself. She held tight to his arm, though, so he knew she was with him, supporting him. Once again, she remembered the look on his face when he’d seen his oldest brother. He’d gone the most startling shade of white, his big frame rigid with tension. She’d known then, or at least she suspected she knew what kind of man Bramwell Courtenay, the Earl of Edgmond, was. He was the kind to inflict harm on those weaker than him and take pleasure in it. She could see it at once in those callous eyes, as lacking in feeling as a dead fish. It was in the cruelty of his thin lips, just as much as in his vile words and insinuations. It was in the way she had felt Ludo react, an instinct born of years of abuse at the hands of an older brother.
She imagined Ludo as a boy, all glorious tumbling black curls and big blue eyes, and then two brothers in Bramwell’s mould, and….
And the Marquess of Farringdon. Everyone knew of him. Everyone knew of the marquess and his cruelty, his vicious temper and his pride. How must a man like that have felt to have discovered himself a cuckold?
Oh, Ludo.
Her heart broke and she held tighter to his arm. It had been such a shock to see his fear. Ludo was so large, so vital and strong, so powerful. She’d read of his brawling, read of his skill in the boxing ring. One of Jackson’s favourites, he was a natural. All that beautiful strength that he had given her so wholeheartedly and with such tenderness, had been driven away with a few words from a man who must have tormented his childhood. She wanted to go back to Bramwell now, this instant, and… and….
Bunty sucked in a breath, startled by the violence of her own thoughts, the anger and the need for retribution. She had never in her life wanted to hurt someone, but… but Bramwell had hurt Ludo. Bramwell had been his big brother, a role that ought to at least be one of camaraderie, if not of protection. And instead….
“Bunty?”
Bunty blinked, looking up at Ludo’s appalled face, only then realising her eyes were wet with tears.
“Oh, God, Bunty, I’m so sorry. I should not have let him speak to you so. I… I should have—”
She reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. “You did. You were admirable. I’m so proud of you. Now do open the door and let us go inside. The snow is falling heavier, I think.”
Bunty watched as he fumbled for the key, letting them in. He seemed a little lost, uncertain, and she took off his overcoat, guided him to a chair and made him sit down as she stoked the fire back to life and put a kettle on for tea. She hung up wet things and pulled off his boots as the kettle sang. Calmed by routine, she poured tea, putting a cup into his hand, dosed heavily with sugar.
He sipped and she watched him come back to himself. To her. Taking his empty cup, she put it down and sat in his lap. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, laying his head against her shoulder as she stroked his hair, curling now, damp from the snow despite his hat.
“Tell me,” she said.
He did, haltingly at first, and then a tumble of words like water rushing over a cliff’s edge, eager for the fall, eager to rid himself of the memories and let them flow away.
Bunty heard it, all of it, stoic, not weeping, though she wanted to. She wanted to sob and rage and howl with fury, but she held it back, certain he would not want that. She held him, though, kissed him when she could no longer bear not to, smothered her anger and turned it into a caress. It was at once just as she had imagined, and far worse. When he was done, she did not move, aware that he was calm now, not wanting to disturb his tranquillity by doing or saying the wrong thing.
“It wasn’t all bad,” he said, squeezing her fingers.
She blinked hard as his face blurred, touched that he would want to reassure her, when he was the one who had lived it.
“Whilst my mother lived, I was protected and cosseted and loved. I do remember that. She told me about my real father.”
“The Italian count?”
He nodded.
“She would not run off with him because she did not want you to endure the scandal, yet she named you Ludovic? Like your father, Ludovico?” She tried to keep the censure from her voice, but failed.
He shrugged, his big shoulders rolling. “At first, she thought she’d got away with it, I think. I think she believed it would be her private joke. Yet it wasn’t long before it became clear I was not like my brothers, and the rumours flew. She believed she’d been discreet, yet someone knew. Someone always knows. She took me away then, ran away, more like.”
“Where did you go?”
Ludo smiled. “She had a house in Kent. Hers, not Father’s. He could not take it from her. Some legal quirk. He tried to get around it, but her mother had been a canny soul, I think. Anyway, she took us there, and we were happy.”
“Until she died.”
Pain flickered in his eyes, and Bunty wanted to never see such an expression again. She vowed she would do anything she could to prevent it.
“Yes. I was eight. Then… Then it was not good at all. Not for a long time. Not…” He reached up and cupped her face, and she wondered at the gentleness of this man, who’d had so little of it in his life. “Not until you.”
Bunty turned into his touch and kissed his palm, holding his hand there with her own.
“It is the strangest thing,” he said, a wondering tone to his voice. “To think he has frightened me so these many years when… when he’s nothing. He’s less than nothing. A vain, vile nothing of a man. He has money and power, and yet he’s….”
“Pathetic,” Bunty said firmly, disgust in every syllable. “Preying on those weaker than himself. He’s no man, Ludo. Not like you. He does not deserve a moment more of your attention, and I should like it very much if you never thought of him ever again, but… but if you do, if you want to tell me more… anything. I shall always listen.”
Ludo tipped his head back and stared at her.
“I don’t understand it,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t understand what I did. How did I manage it? How did I convince you to marry me?”
Bunty did not consider that a question worthy of an answer, as it was far too obvious, so she kissed him instead, and he seemed to like that well enough.
Chapter 6
“Wherein the final piece of the puzzle reveals a lovely picture.”
14th December 1820. London.
Ludo awoke early. It was barely dawn, just a faint smudge of daylight creeping around the curtains. Bunty sighed and snuggled closer to him, and Ludo smiled. Lucky bastard. She was warm and soft and… and rather astonishing. He’d tried to untangle everything it was he felt for her, but it had all been so sudden, and yet a creeping thing that he’d been vaguely aware of for years. He’d always held his breath when he’d caught sight of her in a crowd, on a street, or at the theatre. It had been like glimpsing a dream, something lovely and so impossible you could not hope to hold on to it, aware that it was never to be real, never to be yours. He tightened his grip on her lush curves—which were reassuringly tangible and mouth–watering—as she sighed and stretched. His feelings rose in a mess of untidy bafflement. He did not understand why she had protected him so fiercely when he’d been so obviously, pathetically weak. He did not know why she should smile at him with happiness sparkling in her eyes when he’d done so little to deserve it. God, he’d taken her from an opulent home and installed her in this dingy place, and yet she looked at him like… like she was glad.
The tangle in his chest was woven so tight he suspected he would never unravel it, but in the end it resolved itself into one bright, shining truth, so obvious it was undeniable. Not that he wanted to deny it. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he did not think she would like that. Besides, he needed to tell her first.
She stirred again, with a flutter of dark eyelashes, and her lovely eyes
were warm and soft, hazy with sleep, and then with a hotter emotion as her gaze settled on him. Oh, he liked that look.
“Good morning,” she murmured, giving a contented sigh of pleasure.
Ludo shifted down the bed until they were eye to eye.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
She made a little harrumphing sound and put a hand up to her hair, wincing. “You are an odd creature, to enjoy such a sight.”
“No. I am your husband, and right about all things. I do not care that your hair looks like a bird has nested in it. You are beautiful: quite astoundingly lovely.”
There was a helpless laugh that made his heart kick about behind his ribs, and then she looked up at him.
“You are an odd creature, but I like you very much. I like your compliments, and I love waking up with you.”
“I love you, Bunty.”
Her mouth fell open, and Ludo sat up as she lay there, gazing at him.
“I do. I love you.”
She blinked hard, her eyes glittering, and Ludo panicked as a tear escaped.
Oh. Oh, no. Ought he not have said that? Was it too soon? Should he have waited?
“Oh, Bunty… I….”
He did not know what to say. He could not… would not take it back. The truth of it had settled inside him, weighty and honest, and he did not want to deny it.
Only… only if she did not want it….
Her soft hands reached for him, pulling his head down. She kissed him, murmuring against his lips.
“Love you. I love you, Ludo. You’ve made me so happy.”
Oh, thank Christ for that.
He kissed her back, enthusiastic now, eager to make her happier still. As a husband he might not have been up to much—not yet, anyway, though he had plans, lots of plans—but this… this he could do. This he could do very well, thank you very much.
So he did. Several times.
***
It took a great deal of persuading to get Ludo out of bed, more to get him out of the house, particularly when he realised where she wanted to go.
“He said it was important, Ludo.”
Ludo huffed, grumbling as he pulled on his greatcoat.
Bunty hoped her instincts were correct, and that this visit to the family’s man of business would not cause him further upset. She had seen the distaste in Mr Middleton’s eyes when his employer had come upon them yesterday. In fact, she believed loathing was closer to what she had seen there. It had been hidden beneath a façade of professionalism and icy civility once he’d bent to help the earl to his feet, from where Ludo had sent him sprawling, but it had unmistakeably been there.
To her relief, they would not need to visit any of the family homes, for Mr Middleton also kept an office in the city.
“Well, if we must, I ought to call in and see to some business of my own on the way,” said Ludo, his tone suggesting he was still unenthusiastic about the idea, but accepting at least.
“Of course,” she said brightly, tying her bonnet.
She looked up as he moved before her and tweaked the bow, before leaning down and kissing her.
“Gorgeous,” he said, leaving her giddy and happily dazed with nothing more than a word and a peck on the lips.
***
Bunty kicked her heels in the hallway of the large red brick building, a little irritated to have been abandoned, but not wanting to pry. Men were funny about matters involving money, and Ludo was obviously very much on his dignity about the state of his finances. Still, her curiosity burned, and she dared to wander down the hallway a bit and peek into the room at the end. A huge printing press was set up here, and the smell of ink hung heavy on the air.
“I knew you’d not be able to resist.”
Bunty spun around to see Ludo watching her.
“Oh. Well, no. I’m sorry. Only I had nothing to do and I was curious. Is this part of your business? Printing?”
“In a way,” he said. He seemed rather tense, anxious and yet also pleased.
“Did your meeting go well?”
He nodded, turning this hat around and around in his hand.
“It did, better than I expected. We’ve….” He laughed, a glint of astonishment in his eyes. “We’ve made some money. Not… Not a huge amount, but more than we’d expected.”
“Well, that’s marvellous,” she said, meaning it. “But how, Ludo? Won’t you tell me?”
He hesitated. She moved towards him and took his hand, aware that he was nervous, but uncertain why.
“Promise you won’t laugh.”
Bunty stared up at him. “Why on earth would I laugh at something that makes money?”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in a riot of thick dark curls. Bunty reached up on her toes and enjoyed the miraculous delight of smoothing it back into place.
“Well,” he said, staring down at her. “Oh, come along. I’ll show you.”
He tugged at her hand and Bunty hurried beside him as he strode down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. He opened a door, guiding her into a cramped, dingy office. Weak daylight filtered in through the grubby windows, and the place needed a good sweep, but Bunty strove to ignore that, too curious about what he wanted to show her.
He closed the door and tapped his hat on his thigh a couple of times before clearing his throat. “Have you ever seen those dissection puzzles? I had one as a boy. Well, what was left of one. Half the pieces were missing by the time it came to me, but it was a map of the world pasted onto board and cut up into sections. It was supposed to teach geography, and it did, rather cleverly. I always thought it would be more fun if there were other things to put back together, though. Pictures, for example.”
“What sort of pictures?” she asked, more than surprised at his words.
He shrugged, a little diffident, and then gestured to a table where there were a dozen or more boxes stacked. Bunty moved to the table and, as he seemed to be waiting for her to do so, lifted the lid on the box nearest her. There were a jumble of pieces inside and she tipped them onto the table.
“Oh,” she said, enchanted to see what he meant. Putting aside her reticule, she organised the pieces, putting them back together to make a picture of a smug-looking cat, his paw holding down the tail of a mouse. The poor mouse was yanking at his tail like fury, trying to get free. “Oh, Ludo, it’s marvellous. A child would love this.”
Ludo grinned at her.
“That one is for a younger child. There’s a dog, too, and a rabbit. Then here, these are for older children.” He tipped over another box, scattering more pieces, smaller and more complex this time. “There’s a farmyard scene, and a knight fighting a dragon so far.”
Bunty exclaimed with delight and said nothing at all for some time, deep in concentration until she had completed the farmyard scene, complete with a pretty cottage, a milkmaid and chickens and ducks, sheep and cows.
“It’s beautiful. What a clever artist you have to draw such beautiful pictures too.”
She looked up to see his face filled with pleasure. “Well, the pen drawings are printed out so we can reproduce them in numbers, but then they are hand-painted so they’re colourful.”
Bunty stared at the puzzle a little longer, considering, studying the way the light glimmered on the duck pond and the sunlight glittered on the puddles in the cobbled yard, as if it had just rained.
“These are the originals?” she guessed, looking up at him.
Ludo nodded. “The painting on the ones we sell are less detailed, as it takes too long, but still very good quality. We’ve some marvellous painters working with us.”
“Yes,” Bunty agreed, nodding. “You do.”
“You like them, then?” he asked, and she heard the eagerness in his voice.
“I think they’re wonderful. Any child would be delighted to receive such a gift. Goodness, I would be delighted. They’re marvellous, Ludo.”
Bunty squealed as he swept her up, spun her around, and then kissed her sound
ly.
“You’re marvellous,” he said, and she could see happiness shining in his eyes.
Her heart lurched, knowing she had done that. She kissed him and then pushed him away with a laugh, returning the puzzles she’d made back to their boxes. As she put the last lid back on the box she frowned, tracing her finger over the words, John Cooper’s Dissected Puzzles.
“This was your idea, wasn’t it, Ludo? Your creation?”
Ludo nodded. “Yes.”
“Then why isn’t your name on the box. Who is John Cooper?”
“John is the printer, my business partner. Be reasonable, love. Who in their right mind would buy something for a child created by Lascivious Lord Courtenay?”
He laughed, but she thought there was regret in the sound.
“I suppose so,” she said, not liking the truth of his words. “It’s not fair, though, when it was your idea.”
Rather more than his idea, she suspected.
Ludo moved closer to her and lifted her chin, kissing her. “You know. That’s all I care about. Now come along, my love, and let us get the tedious part of the day over with. I’ve no doubt Middleton will put me in a wretched temper, so I shall leave it to you to cheer me up once we’re done.”
He winked at her to show he didn’t blame her for dragging him to see the man, and Bunty followed him out to find a hackney.
***
Mr Middleton’s office was every bit as neat and precise as the man himself. He was small of stature, balding, and with a round face which seemed rounder still as he peered owlishly out from behind thick spectacles. He took them off, cleaning the lenses with care, and surreptitiously glancing at Ludo who was pacing the elegant room like a caged lion, tension rolling off his large frame with every move.
“Ludo, do come and sit down,” Bunty said, patting the chair beside her, aware that his prowling was making Mr Middleton nervous.
He folded his arms, scowling, and for a moment Bunty worried he’d balk and tell Middleton to bloody well get on with it. She could see the desire to do so burning in his eyes. She patted the seat again and he sighed, moving to sit beside her with a glower. Bunty reached for his hand and he curled his fingers around hers.
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