Woo'd in Haste (12 page)

Could her father reject Luc’s suit? Nothing had been done that was irreparable.

“He did take your virtue, right?”

“No, not that I didn’t want him to. He refused.”

“How gentlemanly?”

They giggled again. It was good to have told Alice. She made everything feel lighter, manageable. Bianca was not trapped in another prison of Kate’s creation. Luc has been misguided, to be sure, but she had no doubt that he did love her. Therein lay the difference.

“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps nothing matters but that I love him. And his title might sway my father’s stubborn mind.”

Alice grinned. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

L
uc searched for Thomas, but when he saw the boy by his mother’s side, he didn’t approach. He needed to think. And what if Thomas had said something to his mother about the scene he had witnessed? He ran through the conversation. Unless Bagley had said something else after Bianca and Luc had walked away, there was nothing incriminating said.

He wandered behind the chairs set up to view the archery competition. He watched Frederick Graughton prime his bow, but his thoughts were far away.

It hardly mattered what Thomas did or did not say. Soon everyone would know. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Bianca was right, and though he had known the deception to be a foolish idea from the start, when it seemed to work, he had stifled his misgivings. Enjoyed falling in love and receiving love in return. But he’d taken advantage of her, in the greatest possible way. Even if he couldn’t regret his actions, he knew they had been wrong. But if he lost her he would regret them forever.

He wouldn’t lose her.

He’d beg her forgiveness and somehow, she’d come around.

He looked up. Saw Mr. Mansfield in the distance and suddenly his mind cleared. It was time.

Mr. Mansfield was pouring himself a glass of punch when Luc approached. There was a footman at one end but otherwise the area was currently unoccupied.

“Mr. Dore,” Mansfield greeted him jovially. “Enjoying the afternoon?”

Luc tried to force a smile and failed. “Might I speak with you in private, sir?”

“What is this long face?” Mansfield said, clapping him on the back. “Is my son being naughty? Do say yes. He is too quiet and well-behaved for his own good. When I was a boy—”

“No, sir. I regret to inform you that all is well with your son.”

“Oh.” Mansfield frowned and then gave Luc a more considering look. “Is something amiss?”

“I am.”

“You are giving your notice?”

“I suppose I am in a manner of speaking.” He looked about. Other than that footman several feet away the area was still clear. “I . . . Dore is not my name. I am Dorlingsley. Of the Sussex Dorlingsleys.”

“Relation to the Earl?”

“His only son.”

Mansfield was silent, but his fingers drummed on the table. Luc had come to know this meant he was deep in thought.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to court Bianca.”

Mansfield’s patient visage darkened quickly. “That is the one answer I will not tolerate,” he said, slamming his glass down on the table.

“My intentions are honorable.”

“Then why not approach me like a man? Why steal into my home under a cover of lies? And Lord Reginald! That fiend.”

“I am deeply sorry, sir. I never intended disrespect or . . . I simply didn’t think of the consequences beyond—”

“You are the sort of man who gives young noblemen a bad reputation. Gadding about, doing as they wish, no care for anyone else.”

Luc flushed. He had heard that slur against the aristocracy before but had never considered it an apt descriptor of himself.

“And what of my son?” Mansfield continued, working himself up into a florid rage. “I trusted you with him. In my home! I should call you out for this.”

“Mr. Mansfield, please, I know I am deserving of all your ire, but I love your daughter. I want nothing more than to make her my wife.”

Mansfield paused, breathing heavily. His eyes narrowed on Luc.

“I am furious, Mr.— Lord Asquith, and I am currently hosting a party. Now this scandal. What will people think?”

“No one knows. Other than Bagley, but he’s my cousin.”

“Other than Bagley,” Mansfield repeated. He took a deep breath. Seemed fractionally calmer. “I don’t know whether to throw you off my property or introduce you to the guests. You’ve put me in a very difficult position.”

Mansfield’s growing calm gave Luc hope and he pressed his point.

“Accept my suit. Grant me Bianca’s hand.”

Mansfield looked down at his desk, ran his fingers across the wood surface. “She loves you?”

“Yes,” Luc said fervently, and then sucked in his breath. “At least, she did. Before she learned that I was not who I said I was.”

Mansfield’s jaw was tight. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Luc watched its regular throbbing with anxiousness.

“What a foolish girl. And all this time I thought Kate was the problem and here I have mischief beneath my very roof. Oh, the pain of being a widower.”

“You’ve remarried, sir.”

“But my daughters are motherless nonetheless.”

Luc shook his head.

“I know I’ve gone about this backward, Mr. Mansfield. And I beg your forgiveness, but I was told that you would never let me woo Bianca until Kate marries.”

Mansfield looked angry again. “All I want is a peaceful home. To grow old amongst the things and people I love.”

“All I want is to be able to live my life.”

They both turned at Bianca’s voice.

“You are living your life—”

“In Kate’s shadow! No, not even in her shadow because most of the year she is flitting about doing all the things I can only dream of. I’m almost twenty, Father. I should have had my Season.”

“And you will.”

“I. Am. Tired. Of waiting!”

F
ury made the edges of Bianca’s vision a dusky red. She was still mad at Luc, but she was more so at her father, at the situation that his cowardice had created. And she was mad at fate, at losing her mother, at nearly losing her brother. Angry that everything she held dear was either taken away from her or proven to be false.

“Now, now, Bianca,” her father said nervously, looking about. “You must calm down. You are my sweet, biddable daughter.”

Hearing him voice the long-unspoken thoughts infuriated her even more.

“Sweet? Biddable? I am neither of those things. I merely never had anything for which I cared about enough to fight. But now I do.”

“Bianca.”

“Do you give your blessing, Father?” she pressed spitefully.

“For the sake of peace in my home, I cannot. A secret engagement until Kate is betrothed, yes.”

“No.” The word felt beautiful. Powerful. Bianca wanted to say it again and again. “No secrets. I intend to marry Luc. Now. As soon as possible. And I do not care a fig for what Kate wants. If she wishes to have a fit here in front of all her guests, that is her choice and reflects only on herself.”

“No.”

But it was not her father’s
no
that mattered.

“You’ll regret this,” she warned. Then she shot a look at Luc before taking off for the house. His expression was one of wonder, and it nearly made her laugh. Had her anger made him regret his proposal? Perhaps all of this would have been for naught. But the thought was more tinged with angry amusement than true fear.

As she had hoped, Luc stopped her halfway across the lawn.

“So you forgive me,” he said eagerly, taking her hands in his own.

“No, I don’t,” she corrected.

“But you’ll marry me.”

“Maybe.” It was petulant, she knew, but he deserved to suffer a bit.

“But you said to your father . . .”

“Because I am tired of being told what to do! Of being forced to wait for Kate. If there were some good reason, well then, I am reasonable, but this is just her selfishness and cruelty.”

“Bianca, forget about Kate. Forget about your father. Forget about my stupidity. All that matters is if you love me as I love you.” His expression and tone were earnest. She
knew
he loved her.

She blinked, and was surprised to feel wetness on her lashes. Her anger was seeping away and what was left was a shaking exhaustion. She wanted to do all that he said, but how?

She nodded slowly. His expression lit up like fireworks. A little answering spark rose inside her.

“So we’ll do it,” he said. “We’ll keep the engagement secret and do our best to get Kate married off sooner than later.”

“No,” Bianca returned, because love him as she did, she would not back down. “We’ll marry as soon as possible, or I won’t marry you at all.”

I
n the two months that he had known Bianca, Luc had fallen in love with her, again and again, each time some new facet of her revealed itself to him. Now he was seeing the wronged goddess, intent on victory. It was astonishing and, admittedly, a tiny bit scary. It was also incredibly arousing, and in between the plans that she repeated to him just one more time, he kissed her neck, her ears, her shoulders.

He knew very well this new plan was not wise, but neither had been his initial deception. And something had to happen. Thus far Mansfield had said nothing, and Luc did not know if his identity would be revealed, if he would continue the pretense of tutor at least until the part was over, or if Mansfield would throw him out.

But Bianca was forcing everyone’s hand and Luc was willing to let her.

After all, this new plan allowed him to kiss her, here in the privacy of the library, in the quiet hour when most of the guests were dressing for dinner.

“We’ll go to Paris for our honeymoon,” he whispered, interrupting her worried commands. She fell silent and he continued, “Then Vienna.”

“Firenze,” she said.

“Yes, and Venice. Wherever you wish to go.”

“I do love you, Luc.” The words were soft, the way her skin was soft beneath his fingers.

A burst of laughter resounded from the hallway. Footsteps.

This was it. No turning back.

She pressed her lips to his and he forgot his thoughts.

Until the door flung open and sharp gasps pierced the air. Despite being prepared, Luc’s body tightened with tension.

“Asquith!”

“Asquith? I thought that was the tutor?”

For one moment more, Luc shut out that outside world with its shocked chatter. He took a deep breath and met Bianca’s wide-eyed gaze. Her smile was as tremulous as his.
A man’s life can change in an instant.

“Ready?” Luc whispered.

She nodded and they turned to face the open door.

True to his word, Reggie had gathered a handful of people. There was Bagley and the Stanbury twins. Enough that no one could refute what they’d seen. Enough that reputations had been shot and scandal ignited.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bagley demanded. But there was a twinkle in his eye as he blustered.

Bianca let out a squeak and hid behind Luc’s back. He could feel the shaking of her body and her strangled laughter.

“Love, cousin,” Luc said as he started to laugh. “Love.”

Then he shut the door and shut them out. In a few minutes more, the news would have made the rounds and it would be time to face her father. But the deed was done.

He took Bianca into his arms. She smiled up at him brilliantly.

“I’m ruined,” she said happily. “You’ll have to marry me now.”

“You’re mine,” he said, mirth gone and emotion making his voice gruff. “I’ll never let you go.”

Two months earlier, he had spotted her across a street and fallen head over heels in love. And then he’d tumbled again and again. As he lowered his lips to hers, he knew that he’d always be tumbling, always falling, always be passionately in love.

Want more of Kate and Peter?

Continue reading for a sneak peek at

WED AT LEISURE,

on sale 5/27/14 from Avon Impulse!

An Excerpt from

WED AT LEISURE

Chapter One

1809

K
ate ran through the thicket, gasping, her face hot with suppressed tears. The governess would chide her for the stains and small abrasions to her dress once she returned to the house. But those monitions were nothing compared to her mother’s continued disdain.

The scent of moist earth and the sound of rushing water meant that she was close, that soon she could let go. Finally, she broke through the cluster of trees and bushes and made it to the water’s edge, where she dropped down to her knees, clutched at clumps of grass with her fists, threw her head back, and wailed.

“Ahem.”

Kate clamped her mouth shut and looked toward the familiar voice, embarrassment flushing her body. How humiliating.

The Earl of Bonhill sat under a tree, a book open on his lap, his trousers rolled up and his legs dangling into the stream that, a mile off, fed into the river, and that farther upstream offered her father a perfect spot for angling. The same stream that marked the boundary between the Colburns’ ducal seat and the Mansfields’ more modest estate. Here, however, titles hardly mattered. What did matter was that Peter had gotten there first and taken the best spot. And was now witnessing Kate in tears.

She hadn’t even known he was back from Harrow.

She scrambled to her feet, glaring at him, as anger was the only possible refuge from humiliation, and headed back to the thicket.

“You don’t have to run,” he said, the crunch of his footsteps on the fallen leaves growing louder as he came nearer. “I’ll go.”

For some reason that made her more upset and she stopped, whirled around to face him. He was sixteen, she knew. Four years her elder.

“It doesn’t matter if you do. It’s already ruined.” She wouldn’t be able to indulge in tears the same way anymore.

“Then maybe I can help.”

“How?”