Page 131 of The Lyon Returns
Bemused, she pulled out the chair. It rolled on silent castor wheels. She sank onto the plush blue-velvet-covered cushion.
He’d done this. He’d taken it upon himself to procure this beautiful set for her.
A fat tear coursed down her cheek and she scrubbed it away, moved by his kindness despite her better judgment.
Then she spotted her pile of correspondence. One unopened missive sat atop the stack. She recognized the writing, of course, having received far too many notices from the sender at this point. Shereached for it and thumbed off the stakeholders’ solicitor’s wax seal. It was almost a relief to have something to occupy her mind besides the conflicting messages Gideon’s action sent. His kindnesses. His attentions to her person. The way he made her feel seen and cared for and safe.
His ongoing affair with his mistress, which he’d seen fit to keep from her only to rub her nose in it before her closest friends and the public at large. But what had she expected? She’d gotten married not to have a husband—faithful or otherwise—but to procure the publishing company.
And so, she scanned the note. Then, barely able to believe her eyes, scanned it again. They couldn’t possibly make such a demand of her. Could they? If so, if she’d been so foolish as to allow such a giant loophole, she deserved the end result—that she would almost certainly have to renounce ownership. She would not operate her beloved publishing house under such constraints.
She stared out the window at Gideon’s pristine gardens, almost numb. In a matter of hours, all her dreams seemed to crumble at her feet.
A knock sounded at the door. A moment later, she heard the door swing open and then close.
“You didn’t come find me,” Gideon said from behind her. “I had wanted to surprise you.”
“I was surprised,” she said weakly, not looking at him.
He said nothing for a long moment. “Do you not like it? I can…” His words drifted off.
She turned the chair to face him. Whatever he saw in her face had him moving on swift feet toward her. “Gwen, what is it? What’s wrong?”
He stuttered to a halt when she lifted her arm to ward him off. She could not stomach his touch. Not after he’d been with another mere hours ago.
He stared at her, thick brows furrowed over his magnificent eyes, and she rose to her feet. She never had liked being loomed over.
“Gwen?”
“Allow me to thank you for taking time out of your busy day to stop by Margaret’s bookshop. I would have thanked you earlier,” she said, her voice stilted, “had you not left.”
“I apologize for leaving without saying goodbye. Something”—he paused to scratch the side of his nose, and Gwen noticed a thick, white bandage wrapped around his knuckles—“unexpectedcame up.”
Like happening upon his mistress unexpectedly. She glared at him, but couldn’t quell the impulse to ask about his apparent injury. “May I ask what happened to your hand, sir?”
He made a dismissive sound in his throat. “Madam, what is wrong? You do not seem yourself. May I assume this odd mood concerns something that occurred today—in the bookshop?”
She sucked in a breath, hardly able to comprehend his cruelty. Evidently he wanted things out in the open. Perhaps this was his ill-conceived plan to finally establish the parameters of their marriage.Fine.“I witnessed you and your mistress consorting. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He blinked, and his lips parted, his expression so taken aback, she could only conclude this was not the conversation he’d anticipated.
“I beg your pardon? Do you refer to Emily?”
So now she was Emily. Gwen almost bared her teeth. Instead, to her mortification, a sob sounded in her throat. She turned away from him, clutching the edges of her beautiful new desk.
Gideon moved to her on silent feet. He grasped her shoulders and pivoted her to face him. “Madam, I do not know what you think you saw, but I assure you I consorted with no one. I ended things with her upon my return to England.”
She searched his face, as his words penetrated. A tiny ember of hope ignited within her. But she had to be sure. “I saw you, sir. Youwere talking with her, and then you were both gone. What was I to think?”
He swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his hands tightened on her. “What were you to think,” he aped. “That the sight of you, the mere thought of you, makes me burn? You, Gwen, and no one else. You doubt that?”
“Where did you go, if not with her?”
His jaw tensed. “As it happens, I needed to have words with someone else—about you.”
She blinked up at him. “About me?”
He slid his palms up and down her arms, stoking an intense longing to be held by him despite her need for answers. “I dealt with him, Gwen. You will not be bothered by him again.”
