Chapter Six
Lucas scanned the small writ he’d received from the King’s Bench to arrest Canterbury for harboring debts that he was incapable of paying. In two days, a bailiff would arrive to arrest him and presumably throw him in debtors’ prison while his assets were liquidated.
No doubt there were other debts out there; a man such as Canterbury would have countless lines of credit, most unpaid. Once other debtors scented blood in the water, they would all strike.
Canterbury would be ruined.
Lucas felt nothing at the prospect. He’d expected a sense of justice—he was finally repaying Rebecca for all the indignities she had endured at Canterbury’s hands. But instead, he felt nothing but indifference and disgust for the man.
This was the right course of action. And he had no intention of being swayed from it, especially now that Gwen had proven herself to be an object of interest for the earl and his wandering eye.
That thought made his jaw clench.
A small chit of a woman, yet she had invaded his mind and his body. She deserved better than him—far better. His wealth and title did not make up for his other deficiencies.
He would be a jealous, possessive husband. And she had not yet been to London to experience the luxury of choice. He could not force himself upon her, particularly when he had not initially intended to marry.
He emerged from his bedchamber and made his way downstairs, where the assembled group was playing Blind Man’s Bluff in the drawing room. Canterbury stood in front of Gwen, grinning down at her as she reached out her hands, trying to identify who was before her.
Suddenly, all Lucas wanted was to wipe that smug smile from Canterbury’s face. This was Rebecca all over again, and Lucas would not stand for it.
Canterbury would have no one else.
Gwen frowned, that perfect mouth of hers pouting as she thought. There was a line between her brows, and Lucas wanted to smooth it away with his thumb. There was a rushing in his ears, and he had to resist the urge to haul Canterbury away so she didn’t have her hands on him any longer.
“Lord… Canterbury?” she asked, but although she posed it as a question, something in the way she retracted her hands told Lucas that she knew precisely who it was.
Canterbury laughed. “Correct! You may open your eyes now, Miss Summers. Well guessed.”
Gwen opened her eyes, but instead of looking at Canterbury, she instead looked at Lucas. He wondered if his rage was on his face, or whether he appeared to be the civilized gentleman he rarely was.
Canterbury turned, and the smile smell from his face. “What is it?”
“A word, Canterbury?” Lucas held up the writ, and Canterbury sighed, leaving the chair and Gwen in the center of the room.
Finally. The murderous feeling in Lucas’s chest subsided somewhat.
“What is it?” Canterbury demanded. “Must we discuss business now?”
Lucas raised a brow. “Interrupting your fun, am I?”
“You know damn well you are.”
“Leave her alone, Canterbury,” Lucas said flatly.
“Or what?” Canterbury sneered. “Are you going to offer for her yourself? We both know you’re not a marrying man.”
“This is what I intend to do.” Lucas handed him the writ. “You have two days. If you don’t excuse your guests before then, they will see the bailiffs arrive and arrest you.”
Canterbury turned puce, looking as though he were on the verge of violence. Lucas knew that feeling well. “What’s the meaning of this?” he blustered. “You can’t—do you know who I am?”
“I think you have forgotten who I am.” Lucas didn’t bother to moderate his tone.
“I warned you that I would not be generous just because we are related by marriage. If you had treated my sister with love and respect, the situation might have been different, but that was never the case.” This time, it was Lucas’s turn to sneer.
“You made your bed, Canterbury. Now lie in it.”
Canterbury’s hands shook as he ripped the paper in one deliberate, jerky motion. “I will not stand for this.”
“Unfortunately,” Lucas said as he strolled from the room once more, “you have no choice in the matter.”
*
The news they had to leave hit the guests like an unwelcome rainstorm. Of all the guests, Gwen suspected she had the best idea of what had happened.
Lucas had called in his debts.
Lord Canterbury had not admitted why everyone must leave posthaste, but he’d made it plain that they only had a day in which to do so.
No matter how difficult leaving might have been.
For Gwen and Aunt Mary, who had taken a hired chaise, they were left scrambling.
And somehow, amidst the hustle and bustle, Aunt Mary remained convinced that had Gwen done a better job of appealing to Lord Canterbury’s sensibilities, this would not have been happening.
No matter how many times she attempted to convince her that he had fully intended to marry Miss Jameson—if she had not refused him—Aunt Mary remained unmoved.
Gwen woke on the final morning with vague dreams of Lucas’s hands on her and dampness between her legs. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, wishing she didn’t keep thinking about Lucas and the way he had touched her—and the way he had left.
They had not spoken since.
Of course, the reason for that was most likely that he was busy orchestrating Lord Canterbury’s downfall.
And, perhaps, because he did not want to marry her.
Annoyed with herself, the ache in her core not abating, she swung her feet out of bed and crossed the room to the window.
Dawn had just broken, and mist hung across the world.
It was frightfully early, and yet she thought she saw a figure striding across the lawn and down through the gardens to the lake.
Not just any figure—Lucas. She would recognize that stride anywhere.
Impulse had her drawing her coat over her nightgown and shoving her feet into slippers. He did not want to marry her, but she would not ask for marriage. He was right in that he had stolen nothing from her—but he had given her so much more.
When this was all over, she would never see him again. And more than anything, she wanted a repeat of the tantalizing pleasure he had shown her in the library. One last time.
Aunt Mary had the room directly beside hers, so Gwen closed the door gently, one hand pressed against the wood until the latch clicked. Then she padded down the stairs.
As she tiptoed across the hallway, she heard her name. Lord Canterbury was in the library, his ankles crossed on his desk, and a bottle of something in his hand. His face was unshaven and unkempt for the first time since she had known him, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Miss Summers,” he slurred, frowning. “What are you doing up and about?”
“Oh, uh.” She clutched her coat tighter about herself. “Just needed a glass of water.”
His frown deepened. “There are servants for that.” His gaze passed over her, greed taking over his expression, and she took a step back.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” she said as she pulled the door closed. Before he could even rise, she hurried to the front door, which was miraculously unlocked. Or rather un-miraculously unlocked, considering she had seen Lucas leaving the house at the early hours.
Casting caution to the wind, she hurried after him, dew-soaked grass dampening her shoes and a cool breeze making her shiver.
Mist clutched tendrils of moisture to her hair and skin, but she disregarded the chill, following his footsteps across the grass.
The house fell behind, no one at the blank windows, and she released a breath.
No one was coming after her. She and Lucas would have time together. And if he didn’t want her—well, better that she had tried and failed than be left to wonder what might have happened if she had tried.
In the gray of the new morning, a vision opened before her: the lake she had seen from the hill when she had first encountered Lucas. Close by, it was even more spectacular, its surface gently ruffled by the breeze. A walkway ran around the edge, and ahead of her, moving fast, was Lucas.
Knowing she would never catch up, Gwen began walking in the opposite direction. Unless he veered off the path, they would eventually meet. And when they did, she would ask him to kiss her again. This was her last chance, and she would not miss it.
He was perhaps fifty yards away when he noticed her.
His head snapped up, and although at that distance, she could not see his expression, she could almost feel the way his attention zeroed in on her.
Her heart thudded in her chest as his steps faltered, then gained speed.
Not running, but walking so purposefully, it made Gwen’s legs a little weak.
No other man made her feel like this, as though the sheer force of his presence were enough to scorch the very sun from its sky. As though with a single word, he could dominate her entire world, and she would be more than happy to allow him that liberty.
Even if she did not, perhaps he would take it.
Finally, he drew close enough to speak, and her breath caught at the expression on his face. Dark, forbidding. Dangerous.
“Why are you here?” he all but growled at her.
She straightened her spine. He would not intimidate her into running. “I came because I saw you,” she said.
His brows descended over his eyes. “You came for what?”
“I want you to kiss me again.” She sucked in a deep breath, her fingertips pulsing with the force of her heartbeat. “Before I go. You’re going to ruin Lord Canterbury, aren’t you?”
He searched her eyes. “Yes.”
“Good.” She gave a decisive little nod, heat rising in her core at the thought of his ruthlessness. “I’m glad. I hope you make him pay.”
His hand curled around her elbow, drawing her closer. “Vicious little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, those inky eyes of his igniting. “Do you delight in the thought of his downfall?”
“I do.” She bit her lip as she tilted her head back to look at him. “How long will he be in prison?”
“Long enough,” Lucas said grimly. “And when he comes out, he will have nothing to his name but his title. Of course, it’s possible he will try to make an advantageous marriage, but what is an earl without his seat?”
Gwen pressed closer without thinking, her chest against his, her nipples pebbled. She no longer noticed the chill in the air; all she could see was Lucas’s dark eyes, the shadows underneath, and the tension around his mouth. “Was he so very cruel to your sister?” she whispered.
“At first, I believe he charmed her. But the mask soon fell away, and his neglect made her deeply unhappy. Every time I saw her, she seemed paler and thinner and more miserable. She I’m just glad she never bore a child, though not for lack of trying. He blamed her.”
Of course he had. And now he wanted a young lady both to bear him an heir and to save his estate.
She was glad he couldn’t do it, and that Miss Jameson had refused his sudden offer of marriage.
She suspected Lucas had had something to do with that, chasing them away before Lord Canterbury could bring them down with him.
His other hand came to her waist, pressing her against him. “You were foolish to come here,” he said, bending so his nose brushed her cheek. “Foolish in the extreme.”
“But you’ll kiss me, anyway?”
“Yes,” he said with almost savage intent as he brought his mouth down on hers.