Page 122 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard every word.” His smile widened. “And I understood you, too. You love me.”
How did he know? “I didn’t say that.”
“Of course you did.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her, and giving up all thoughts of directing him to a better match, she kissed him back with all the pent-up love in her heart.
“Now,” he murmured after a while. Somehow they’d moved to the sofa. “Where are these warts you mentioned?”
She shoved him lightly on the arm. “I don’t have any warts, you fool.”
“Oh well, nobody’s perfect.” He gave her one more long, luscious kiss, then hearing footsteps outside in the hall, he sat up with a sigh. “We’d better save things for the wedding night.”
“Then we’d better make the wedding soon.”
He laughed and hugged her again. “A wench after my own heart. The banns will be called for the third time thisSunday. We can wed anytime after that—or sooner if you like, with a special license.”
“As long as Alice is there, I don’t mind.”
“And Grandmama. She will want to attend, if only to watch my mother gnashing her teeth.”
She laughed. “And I’d like a new dress.” Something she hadn’t worn before.
“Naturally. And a trousseau, I suppose.” He sighed. “I can see the date stretching further into the future.”
“No, the clothes don’t matter. Only the people.” She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “I do love you, Gerald.”
“I know.”
***
When they arrived back in Bellaire Gardens, Alice took one look at them and hugged first Lucy, then Gerald. “I’m so pleased. You two are finally smelling of April and May. You’ve sorted things out, haven’t you?”
Lucy’s blush and Gerald’s possessive grin confirmed it. They were in love.
Gerald left, and Alice and Lucy decided to go to Miss Chance’s establishment after lunch, to order Lucy’s wedding dress. Alice couldn’t help feeling a little wistful, but she pushed those thoughts aside. No regrets.
They were in the hall, debating whether they would need umbrellas or not, when the front doorbell jangled furiously. Tweed had barely opened the door when Gerald burst in, waving a small, slender book bound in red leather. On the cover, elegantly tooled in gold, was the title,Letters to a Mistress, by a Noble Gentleman. “That unprincipled swine Bamber has broken his word—he’s published those damned letters!”
For a moment, Alice thought she was going to faint. Or throw up.
“Alice, are you all right?” Lucy led her into the drawing room, where she sank onto the sofa.
“Are you sure they’re the letters that Thaddeus wrote?” It was a foolish question; of course Gerald was sure.
“See for yourself.” Gerald offered her the book, but she waved it away. She didn’t want to touch the vile thing, let alone read it. “An advance copy was sent to my father,” Gerald continued. “They don’t use names, of course, but most of the ton will understand who Lord C. and Lady C. and Mrs.J. are, especially given the scandalous way Uncle Thaddeus died in Mrs.Jennings’s bed. Papa didn’t read it, but Mama did, from cover to cover. I stole her copy.”
Alice groaned.
The doorbell jangled again, and this time it was James who burst into the room. “Have you heard—” He broke off, seeing the small red book in Gerald’s hand. “I see you have.” He crossed the room in two steps and sat down beside Alice, taking her hands in his. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Just a bit shaken. I’d thought we were finished with all that.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucy croaked. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alice assured her.
“I should have known.”
