Page 130 of The Lyon Returns
“That man is none other than Mr. Steven Landry. Relatively new on the scene, he moves in the best circles thanks to his renown as one of today’s leading poets, and his looks, of course.”
Blood rushed in his ears and a crunching noise sounded. This was the man who had accosted Gwen while a guest under her roof. The man whom her husband had not rebuked. The man who, even now, held one of Gwen’s hands in his after having snatched it like a greedy little beggar.
Gideon realized he was grinding his teeth and on the verge of making a full-on scene. With effort he banked the rage flooding him.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Emily murmured, all trace of humor gone from her tone.
As he watched, Gwen pulled free of Landry’s grasp, turned her back on him, and, head held high, marched to her table of booklets, not giving the bastard poet a second look. Gideon smiled a cold smile.Good girl.
Landry gazed after her, like a wolf eyeing a mutton chop. Then, he appeared to remember himself. He tugged at his waistcoat and started, Gideon guessed, toward the exit.
“Emily, I have one small favor to ask.” He turned to look back at his former mistress.
She arched her dark brows in query.
“I would appreciate it if you do not go out of your way to upset my wife. I believe she suspects who you are, thanks in no small part to you having introduced yourself to her.”
Emily huffed out a disbelieving laugh before giving him a pitying look. “Careful, Gideon.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means laying down your heart for someone, something rumors about you say you have never done, can have nasty consequences,such as finding it trampled underfoot. Tell me, does she know?”
“Know what?”
“That she has you by the nose?”
“I have no more time for this, Emily. Kindly, excuse me.”
She tugged her gloves tight, her lips pinched. “By all means. In any case, it is past time for me to take my leave.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you out,” Gideon said and gestured for her to precede him.
As they made their way to the front doors, he saw Landry slip through the exit and turn right.
He smiled inwardly. He would not get off that easily.
Lady Harriet conveyedGwen home following the event at Margaret’s bookshop. She was grateful she had made the arrangement, and that she had not planned for Gideon to collect her.
For that matter, she thanked the heavens she was not sharing a carriage with Amelia, for the sole reason she did not think she could hide her crushed spirits from the woman. Not after she’d witnessed Gwen searching the room for Gideon following her brief conversation with Mr. Landry and found him, as well as Mrs. Trent, no longer on premises.
There could be no doubt the two had left together.
The moment she entered the town house, her stomach tightened into a fist. She could not bear the idea of coming face-to-face with Gideon after his humiliating betrayal.
Higgins appeared in the foyer to help her from her pelisse. “Mr. Devereux bid me inform you that he is in his den.”
So he had returned home following his tryst? Gwen forced a brightsmile. “Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I shall be in my workroom.”
If the aged butler thought her dismissal of what was tantamount to an invitation, odd, he gave no outward indication. “Very good, madam.”
She marched up the stairs, fuming. The nerve of the man, expecting her to jump to at the snap of his fingers after he’d spent the afternoon dallying with his mistress.
She entered the converted bedchamber, head held high. Then, in a great rush, the misery she’d held at bay the last several hours under a veneer of faux cheer, burst to the fore. She fell against the closed door, pressing a fist to her mouth to staunch the sob that wanted to escape.
Her eyes fell on the desk before the window. It was…different. Confusion blotted out her pain in a flash. Someone had removed the plain wooden writing desk and chair she’d borrowed from the library and replaced it with appeared to be a new set.
On wobbly legs she moved toward it. The rich mahogany surface of the desktop gleamed under the light of the oil lamps someone had turned up in her absence. The edges of the desk, its legs, and the legs of the matching, cushioned chair boasted beautiful scrollwork, both ornate and elegantly understated. Multifaceted crystal knobs crowned the drawers beneath the desktop and glinted like diamonds. The scent of lemon oil as she neared the addition to heratelier,as Gideon called it, teased her nostrils.
