Page 10 of The Lyon Returns
“I gained admittance through the ladies’ entrance,” she said as if that fact mitigated her action. “Before she would agree to take my money—and the fee was exorbitant—she put me through a brutal course instructing me on the things I should know about you.”
Her story grew more fascinating by the minute. “Such as?”
Gwen began ticking items off with her fingers. “She described where we met and when—thirteen months ago, aboard your ship, by the by, when my father and I begged passage on your private brig en route to Calcutta.”
He stretched out his legs, getting comfortable. “For what purpose?”
“Father was commissioned to verify the authenticity of an old manuscript housed there.”
Intriguing.“Feasible?” he asked.
“Extremely so.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Before we docked in India, you invited my father and me to stay with you at your residence as your guests.”
“Oh. Very generous of me.”
She slid him an amused look. “Quite. Mrs. Dove-Lyon described the city, places where I may have ventured with you or my father, andgave me a detailed description of the interior of your home in Calcutta, right down to the servants.”
His home? He had not been aware Bessie had such details.
Gwen diverted her eyes before continuing. “We…fell in love on the ship and married within a month of our arrival. The hasty ceremony was partially due to our strong feelings for one another…”
A vivid fuchsia stain rose up her neck and flooded her alabaster cheeks. Even the tips of her ears turned pink. “…and partially owed to my father becoming ill. It became obvious that he and I would need to return home to England where he could consult with his own physician.”
He could not resist goading her. “Naturally, we did not wish to part without making things official and consummating our relationship.” He expected to shock her.
Instead, when her eyes met his, challenge glinted in their blue depths. “Sir, do you wish to tell this tale, or shall I go on?”
Amusement flickered through him. “My apologies.”
“I agree the notion was far-fetched, especially as I’ve gotten to know a bit about you over the last few weeks, staying in your home. But the documentation is impeccable—indecipherable from the real thing. Indeed, I almost believe she somehow acquired an actual sealed marriage certificate from Calcutta and had it on hand for such an occasion.”
Very astute of the lady. Bessie had the wits and foresight to do just that.
“The date. Who chose that?”
“She did. She was very specific about it.” She fixed him with an unblinking stare, her expression wary but resolved.
Anticipation the likes of which he had not known in a very long time gripped him. He had no notion what she might say next. He could not look away from her if his life depended on it—which, in a sense, it did.
“Mr. Devereux—”
“Gideon,” he corrected.
“Very well, Gideon. I don’t mind telling you I’m quite vexed. Other than my honest pleasure at finding you hale and hardy, this whole endeavor has cost me a great deal of time, money, and patience.” She gestured toward his desk. “The contract negotiation with the devil’s spawn stakeholders…”
He barked out a laugh. He could not remember the last time he’d had occasion to laugh, and within the span of less than a half hour, he seemed unable to quell the urge.
“…and all for naught. They’ll never sell to me now that I’m not onlynotwed, but not wed to the man I claimed was my husband.”
She sprang to her feet and began to pace. “Poor Georgin—I mean George—put her—his—trust in me, and now I must let…er…George down.” Blond tendrils of hair had escaped her chignon, as if the silky tresses could not be contained. He wondered if they would feel as silky as he imagined.
Wait. What was she going on about? George? Who the hell was George?
She went on, oblivious to his confusion. “Then there was your brother who made it clear he could not imagine his larger-than-life older sibling falling for an inconsequential plebeian like me.”
