Page 9 of The Lyon and His Promise
“I’ve lost enough, Asher. See you tomorrow night,” Gyles replied with a wave to his friend.
Josephine picked up her pace and had almost reached the security that awaited her. With Cassandra’s carriage only a few steps away, she tripped on the hem of her gown and began tumbling forward. A scream left her lips when she pitched downward, and she braced herself to land face first on the pavement. Instead, strong arms of steel wrapped themselves around her bringing her up against a heavily muscled chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into the face of Gyles Hawley.
“Merci, monsieur,” she whispered her thanks reverting to French in the hopes he wouldn’t recognize her or her voice.
Gyles helped steady her on her feet. She swayed and reached for his arms. The man before her was… well… a man and not some gangly boy from their youth. Her body quivered in delight while he continued to hold her close.
“You’re welcome, mademoiselle,” Gyles replied as he continued to hold her about her waist. She stared up into the face of the man whose memory had been engrained in her soul. It took everything in her power not to reach out to touch the soft tawny curls that framed his face.
“You can let go of me. I am fine, now,” Josephine said keeping a soft accent to her English words. She reluctantly let go of the support she had stood in need of. Her fingers now cold after feeling the warmth of his arms.
“That was quite the tumble you almost took. Let me at least offer my assistance to your carriage.” Gyles extended his arm, and she hesitantly took the support he offered but she was terrified what touching him even more might do to her heart. They only went thefew remaining strides before he was opening the carriage door. He held out his hand to help her up the two steps. “I noticed you earlier.”
His words surprised her as she settled herself into the seat. “You did?”
“Yes. Do you come to the Lyon’s Den frequently?” he asked quietly while trying to peer into the dark interior.
“This was my first time,” she answered while memorizing every detail of a face she’d thought she would never see again.
“I hope it won’t be your last.” A wicked grin spread across his lips before he stepped back when Cassandra came to the carriage. He also assisted the lady inside and with a tip of his hat, he closed the door.
Cassandra peered out the window until the marquis disappeared from view.
“Not. One. Word.” Josephine warned and the remainder of their ride back to Cassandra’s was done in silence. Besides… what could Josephine possibly say that wouldn’t cause her heart to crack wide open in disappointment open all over again?
Chapter Seven
Gyles sat backin the leather chair in his father’s study, a glass of brandy in hand in the event he needed reinforcement. As a youth, Gyles had always felt intimidated whenever summoned into this room although to be fair, he had been a handful. As an adult, any reprimands his parents had given him were only to ensure Gyles learned the lessons that had formed him into the man he was today.
Although he was considered a man about town, Gyles knew his limits of what he could and shouldn’t do and tried to conform to what was expected of him to the best of his ability. There was a sense of honor to his character that had been drilled into him. He was at least grateful that he appreciated all that he had been born in to. He wasn’t some pampered lord who looked down upon those less fortunate than he, nor did he take his wealth for granted.
A portrait of Gyles’s father, Douglas Yorke, Duke of Davenport, hung over the fireplace. A fine painting of the man himself in his younger days. His father appeared as if he were the same age as Gyles was now at one and thirty. The painting could have been a picture of Gyles, they were so similar in looks. His father had been in the prime of his life in that portrait and Gyles looked now upon his father with worry.
His father had not been well, of late, and the doctors couldn’t figure out what was causing his illness. He was aging right before their eyes and Gyles didn’t know what else he could do. Perhaps this was why he and his father continued to go over business matters on a daily basis. God forbid if he was taken from this earth—his father was much too young to succumb to whatever illness plagued him—but if the worst should occur, Gyles would be able to ensure that the family’s business dealings were seen to. But in his eagerness to make sure his son was well informed, his father sometimes pushed himself too hard. Gyles could see for himself his father had reached his limit and didn’t have much left to give to their discussion.
Gyles set his drink down and came to stand next to his father. “I think we’ve done enough for today, Father,” he said closing the ledger before going over to a bell cord to summon a servant.
“But there’s still more to show you,” the duke replied before a coughing fit caused Gyles to rush to get a glass of water.
Once his father’s cough subsided, Gyles placed an arm around his father’s shoulders. “There is nothing more you need to show me, Father. You’ve done your duty to me, Mother, and the estate. You just need to rest a while to recover.”
The duke waved his hand in annoyance. “Pretty soon I’ll be gone and no longer able to advise you.”
“Please don’t talk like that, Father,” Gyles said full of concern. “You know very well you’ll beat this illness and be back to your normal self in no time.”
Douglas slowly nodded his head. “If you say so, son.”
The door to the study opened and his mother, Clementia, filled the entryway. With her was a servant, who pushed a wheeled chair into the room and up next to the duke. Gyles helped assist his father, and he watched when he left the room. He gave a heavy sigh feeling the weight of responsibility hovering over his head. He sat in his father’s chair while the duchess took up Gyles’s vacated seat across from him.
“The desk and this room suit you, Wickes,” she murmured oncethey were alone. Tears glistened in her blue eyes showing a crack in her armor. She was not considered a weak woman by those that knew her, but everyone had their breaking point.
“You may think it suits me, Mother, but I would prefer if Father’s health improved so he could continue running things.”
“As would I, son, but what else can we do that we already haven’t tried?” A small sob caught in her throat before she squared her shoulders and once again became the strong woman Gyles had always known. “We need to talk.”
God forbid… here it comes, he thought. The heated conversation that he needed to step up his efforts to find a wife. “I’m sure it can wait, Mother,” Gyles said in the hopes he could divert whatever she had on her mind.
“You have been well trained by your father for years, Wickes, and I think it’s time you start to take over more responsibilities. Your father could use the break from the tedious dealings with estate and business matters,” his mother stated, surprising him since the topic wasn’t what he had been expecting.
