He still couldn’t believe she’d let him make love to her and then had the nerve to tell him she didn’t want to marry him. For days, he felt as if she’d gotten what she sought from him and then sent him on his way as if he were an unwelcome suitor.
He knew he was a difficult man at times, but Louisa was a difficult lady at times, too. She was just too damn independent for her own good. Not only that, but he didn’t have five—he stopped and swore under his breath—foursisters to bring into a marriage. Hearing those girls’ screams, squeals, and crying had always made him want to bolt for the door—but Louisa made him want to runtoher door.
For over two years, he’d thought he would be happy if she didn’t want to marry him. But that was before he met her, got to know her, kissed her, and made her his. That was before she made him feel things he didn’t want to even think about: jealousy, anger, hurt, and love.
Love?
Hell no. He knew how to make a woman feel loved, but he didn’t know how to love one. It wasn’t in him to do so.
Could that be the reason she’d rejected his offer of marriage, could it be that she was waiting for him to declare his love for her?
Hell, what was he thinking? She didn’t want to marry him, because she didn’t need to marry him. He was her guardian. She knew that he would see to it she and her sisters had very comfortable lives. Still, it rankled that she was the one dismissing him.
He glanced around the room, hoping to see Seaton or Harrison, but all he saw was Louisa heading to the dance floor with yet another partner. Was she going to dance every dance and wear out her shoes? He looked for a young lady he might quickly sweep onto the dance floor himself when he caught sight of Mr. Hopscotch standing on the landing, searching the faces in the crowded room. No doubt the man was looking for him. In Bray’s current mood, he’d probably smash the man’s face in if he insisted one more time that he must marry Louisa to save the Prince from embarrassment. Bray was near the door to the courtyard, so he quickly opened it and dashed out onto the slate terrace.
The night air had a chill, and to add to his already foul mood, it was foggy as well. There were several couples close together in various parts of the lighted grounds. He didn’t want to watch lovers whispering to each other in the dark.
Bray walked down past the cupid fountain that centered the courtyard and saw even more lovers taking advantage of the foggy evening. He grunted to himself. There was no peace for him at this place tonight and maybe not anywhere. He knew the only reason he was hanging around and didn’t go to one of his clubs was because he didn’t want to leave so long as Louisa was there. But worse than that, he was aching to hold her, to hear her contented sighs, to feel her beneath him moaning softly with sweet pleasure.
A sound of feminine distress reached him and disturbed his thoughts. He listened. He could barely make out the woman’s words, but it sounded like she was saying, “No, let me go.”
He looked around. The sounds hadn’t seemed to disturb any of the couples who were dotting the landscape and the terrace. Some young buck had obviously had too much to drink and was trying to steal a few kisses and caresses from an unwilling female. It wasn’t his problem.
When would young ladies learn that the reason a man took them for a walk in the garden was so he could kiss them and touch them? Men were born to try to dominate females, and it was up to the woman not to let that happen. He certainly hadn’t been able to dominate Miss Prim. If anything, she had been dominating his thoughts ever since he met her.
Bray started to walk off when he heard running. He stopped and looked in the direction of the footsteps and saw Gwen hurrying up the pathway.
His breath stalled in his lungs. “What the bloody hell?” he mumbled as a fierce protectiveness rose up in him.
He hurried across the courtyard at an angle and caught up to her and said, “Miss Gwen, stop.”
She glanced over at him and quickly looked away. “No, please, I want to be alone.”
He grabbed her arm, stopping her. He took notice of the other couples nearby. It appeared only one had paused their conversation to look at them, so he let go of her.
“You can try to run away and make a scene so everyone will know what’s wrong with you, or you can stand here and quietly tell only me what’s going on.”
“Nothing,” she said, keeping her head down.
“That is not the truth.”
She faced him, and Bray saw wide-eyed fear. It was the same look her brother had when he’d realized how badly he was hurt. And just like her brother’s that night, Gwen’s expression registered disbelief and sadness, too. That protective feeling inside Bray grew stronger.
“Tell me what happened,” he said in a deadly quiet tone so she would know he wouldn’t let this rest until she complied.
“Nothing,” she said again as if trying to sound more in control of herself.
“If nothing happened, why is your lip bleeding?”
“Oh,” she said, and put her fingertips to her bottom lip. “I must have bitten it myself when he—”
He touched the small of her back and ushered her away from the path and closer to the courtyard wall, away from curious eyes. There was no blood, but saying so had given Bray the information he was looking for.
“Were you with Standish?” he asked, handing her his handkerchief.
The fear returned to her eyes. “No, no. I wasn’t. I swear.”
“Miss Gwen,” was all he said.
