Lady of Pleasure (42 page)

A startled laugh escaped her. “Is that your way of saying you want to see me naked more often?”

“That is my way of saying I
need
to see you naked more often,” he drawled.

She nuzzled her chin against his bare shoulder. “As much as I would like to marry sooner, I want us to marry in June. The weather is always perfect in June. I was also hoping we could get married in Bath instead of London. So my grandfather could be there to see us wed.”

He sighed against her. “I foresee more parties.”

She giggled and smoothed her hands against his back, savoring this moment. “Say that you love me. I want to hear it.”

He lifted his head from her throat and glanced down at her, his blond hair scattered across his forehead. “Je t’aime. Toujours.”

She melted. “Everything sounds so much better in French.”

He searched her face. “Wait until you go to Paris. You’ll never want to come back.”
She stared up at him, already picturing them walking down the streets of a city she had yet to know. “Who says we have to come back?”

He paused. “What about your mother and sisters?”

“I say once you and I are settled in, we can move them all to Paris. French society would allow them to breathe more. Don’t you think?”

“And what about the estate in Devonshire?”
“Why not have both? Half the year in Paris and half in Devonshire.”
“Damn.” He nipped her shoulder. “Don’t spoil me now.”

“I would never.” She smiled, closed her eyes and meant to hold him in her arms for only ten minutes more, for she knew she had to go and sneak back home.

But instead…she fell asleep. It was the most glorious sleep she had ever known.

The slamming of a door from deep within the house startled Ronan awake. He blinked. Gray morning light peered in through the edges of the curtains that covered the window, and Caroline’s chestnuts curls spilled across his arms and chest. His froze, realizing it was morning and he never got her home. Damn it. He’d promised her mother he would get her home by four to keep Hawksford from panicking about the fact that they weren’t married yet. What time was it?

When another door banged open from somewhere down the corridor, now shaking the furniture in the room, Caroline sat up and adjusted the linen around her naked body. “We fell asleep.”

Ronan shot up, the blankets spilling down to his waist and exposing the expanse of his naked chest. He squinted toward the direction of the doorway. “If it’s Hawksford, I’m damn well moving us to France today.”

She scrambled to cover herself with the linen. “It better not be him.”

The sounds of approaching, hurried steps echoed down the corridor toward them.

Caroline grabbed hold of his arm, her eyes pinned to the closed door of the room. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No.” He scrambled out of bed and grabbing his trousers from off the floor, yanked them on.

Caroline clung to the linens.

The door flew open and slammed against the wall, shaking the entire bed.

Ronan pulled in his chin at seeing his uncle, whose gray hair stood in every direction and whose evening clothes from whatever event he had attended the night before hanging wrinkled. “Jesus.” Ronan strode toward him. “What are you—” He gestured frantically to Caroline. “She isn’t dressed, you know.”

His uncle glanced toward Caroline, winced and swung away. “I’m sorry.” His hands dug into his hair. “Should I leave?”

Something was wrong. The man never came into his house and into his living quarters like this. Ronan veered toward him and grabbed those shoulders. “What is it? Are you all right?”

His uncle’s features twisted. Grabbing Ronan’s own arms, as if to steady himself, he rasped, “I’ve been up all night. Thérèse suffered a bout of apoplexy during the ball I was hosting last night. The doctors assured me she is well and survived it, but her granddaughter won’t let me see her. I…I’ve never felt so undone, Ronan. I know I have no right asking to see her. I know she needs rest. Which is why I had to see you. I didn’t want to sit alone at the house with this. I couldn’t.”

Ronan’s grip tightened on those shoulders in disbelief. “Apoplexy? Madame de Maitenon survived that?” Few people did.

His uncle nodded but otherwise said nothing.

Christ. The poor woman. He owed her his very breath after everything she had done for him. “I will stay with you here at the house until there is more word as to her condition. We should send flowers. At the very least.”

His uncle nodded. “Lots of them. I will buy out every last basket at Covent Garden.”

Ronan blew out a breath, released him, and rounded the bed and grabbed his robe from off of it. He shrugged it on and swung toward Caroline.

Her eyes were soft and pained from where she still sat on the bed buried in the linens. “Lord Hughes,” she offered gently, “I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

His uncle shook his head. “No. The woman needs rest. And I need a drink.”

Ronan paused. “What time is it?”

“Six. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to wake you up so early. I just couldn’t sleep.” Hughes swung toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs.” He trudged out and disappeared.

Ronan raked back his hair and dropping his hands heavily to his sides, quickly gathered Caroline’s clothing and veered toward the bed. “Come here. We need to get you dressed.”

She frantically scrambled off the bed.

Pulling her shift on, he tugged and laced her into her corset, pulled on her petticoats and eventually hooked her gown back together. It was a good thing he knew how to dress a woman. “We need to get you back to the house.” He finished hooking the last of her dress.

She shook her head and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “No. I will stay here with you and your uncle. Until we receive word.”

Rounding her, he stared. “Whilst my uncle and I appreciate the sentiment, I’m already going to be answering to your brother
and
your mother. You aren’t staying.”

She stared back. “No. I’m staying.”

He huffed out a breath. “Caroline, I don’t want to argue with you.”

She lowered her chin. “Then don’t.”

Ronan sighed and knew she wasn’t going to be pleased with him and what he was about to do. “You are leaving,” he said in a low, authoritative voice. “I understand your concern for my uncle, but there is nothing for you to do. I promised your mother I’d have you back by four. And it’s six.”

She lowered her chin. “Send her a missive. Explain the situation.”

“Caroline.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving. Your uncle is my family now, too, you know.”

God love her. “I made a promise to your mother and I’m keeping it. Because your mother is also my family now, too. So we are at an impasse, aren’t we?” He reached out and grabbed her hard by the waist. “Forgive me, but I’m carrying you out, gorgeous.”

She let out a startled half-laugh, half-shriek. “Ronan!”

He lifted her high into the air and effortlessly tossed her onto his shoulder. Her head flopped down over his shoulder, her cheek and long braid smacking his back. “
Ronan
!”

“I take my promises seriously. And so should you.” He walked over with her toward the bed and grabbed hold of the linens. He threw it on top of her. “Keep that over yourself.” He headed out the door.

With her one arm, she pushed at the mass of linens around her, but they kept falling back over her head. She kicked her legs against his grasp. “Where are you taking me?”

“My carriage will take you home. Where you belong.”

“But I’m not even properly dressed!”

“Hence the linen, Caroline. I doubt your mother will judge us. We’re getting married, remember?” He tightened his grip and pounded down the stairs.

She fisted the back of his robe with her one hand. “Can you at least slow down? I’m feeling a touch nauseous from all the gin we had last night.”

Reaching the landing of the foyer, he plopped her down. “There. Now head toward the servants’ quarters. I’ll be right there. I just have to let my uncle know and then I’ll take you home.” He gestured toward the back of the house. “Go on.”

She straightened and adjusted the linen about herself, eventually freeing an arm. Pressing her lips together, she shoved her arm through. She paused, searched his face and then sighed. “I should have married your sooner,” she muttered. She sighed again, lowering her gaze. Dragging up all the linen, she turned and slowly, slowly and grudgingly made her way down the corridor, her head bowed.

His chest tightened. She really didn’t want to go.

A breath escaped him. To hell with everything. She was staying. Because he wanted her to. And because she wanted to.

He jogged up to her. “Caroline?”

She turned toward him, her eyes mischievously brightening. “I can stay, can’t I?”

The little devil. Without giving her a chance to say another word, he leaned forward, grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her. It was an incredible, incredible feeling to know he would never be without her again.

June couldn’t come soon enough.

And neither could Paris.

Epilogue

This glorious moment only marks the beginning.

-The School of Gallantry

Second week of June

Bath Abbey

There is usually one defining moment in every man’s life when he realizes he is destined to fall in love with the right woman and there is absolutely
nothing
that would keep him from doing so. And that moment was here and now with his new wife.

Caroline. Sweet Caroline.

When the ceremony had come to an end in the cavernous abbey and the registrar had been signed, Ronan grasped Caroline’s hand, turned them away from the alter and symbolically held her hand up to showcase the new, gold ring on her finger for all to see.

Banfield and his American wife, lingered in the pews. They whispered to each other in smiles, hinting of something beautiful about to bloom. Lord Brayton and his wife of two weeks also lingered in the pews. Right along with Hawksford, Lady Chartwell, the dowager, all of Caroline’s sisters, Caroline’s squinting grandfather, Ronan’s own uncle who grinned like the devil that he was, and of course, Madame de Maitenon who majestically stood with her cane for support at his uncle’s side.

Madame grinned and inclined her silvery head in wordless congratulations.

Ronan inclined his head in turn and lowered Caroline’s hand.

Excited voices floated around them as he and Caroline walked through the abbey. Every wooden pew and every marble pillar had been decorated with wreaths of white blossoms, sweetly perfuming the air around them and mingling with the sultry scent of melting bees wax from the candles.

Life was beautiful.

The sun sparkled in through the rows of stain glass above, highlighting Caroline and portions of the altar with a rainbow of soft, muted colors. As he and Caroline walked down the aisle toward their waiting carriage that would take them to the day planned ahead, and as everyone followed them out of the church, Ronan knew he was ready to share the surprise he knew Caroline would have never guessed.

Tightening his hold on her hand, Ronan leaned toward her and said, “How do you like your ring?”

Still walking toward the carriage, she held up the ring before herself, letting the ruby glint against the sunlight and glanced toward him, her blue-green eyes searching his face. “It’s beautiful. I have never seen gold shine like this before.”

He bit back a smile. “That is because it’s lucky. I had my sovereign melted down and remolded for your ring.”

She brought them both to a halt and gaped. “Ronan. What— You shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean? It’s worth even more now.” He quickly leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She grabbed his arm and laughed. “That poor coin never saw this coming. I wonder what Wellington would think knowing that all of Waterloo’s luck is now resting on my finger?”

Paris – late July

Morning

The warm wind rushed against Caroline’s face, causing the silk ribbons of her pleated bonnet to flap against her chin as she stepped out of the carriage and took Ronan’s outstretched gloved hand. She landed pertly beside him onto the gravel of the sweeping portico leading to the grand home before them and released his hand. “I can’t believe you and I are actually here.”

The curved brim of Ronan’s top hat shadowed his dark brown eyes against the brightness around them as he glanced down at her. He held out an arm. “I can’t believe we even made it out of England. I think our wedding breakfast with your family alone took about a week to finish.”

“I can tell you miss Alex.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

Slipping her arm around his, she tightened her hold on Ronan and drew in a deep breath, savoring the moment of stepping into Paris and the doorstep of what was her new family. Unlike London, the air was tinged with an unexpected sweetness that reminded her of a garden in full bloom.

It was like breathing in freedom.

Though the land beneath her still seemed to sway, after she had been confined to the ship and then a carriage for so long, she felt as if she had awakened to find herself in a land of royal powder blue skies and mountainous white clouds of a perfect summer day. Behind them, across an expanse of overgrown trees, the Seine river shimmered green, reflecting the blinding brightness of the sun above, which peered through the clouds. Flower boxes dotted wide windows of the large villa home.