Page 142 of The Lyon Returns
“How long ago?” he said with icy calm.
“An hour, perhaps a bit longer.”
“The note, now.”
Higgins had the folded sheet clutched in his hand. He snapped it into Gideon’s waiting palm like a burning ember he could not wait to relinquish.
Gideon unfolded the note, and read.Meet us at the river. You know where—B.
Red hot fury flowed through his veins—and bottomless self-loathing. Brice had taken Gwen thanks to Gideon’s missteps concerning him. Missteps too many to count.
Gwen alone had recognized there was something about him.
But he did not have the time at present to indulge in self-recrimination.
“Have Tempest saddled,” he ordered—his fastest horse, an Arabian he’d acquired before leaving for India. “Notify my brother I’m heading to the abbey.”
Not waiting for a reply, he took the stairs, two at a time. He needed less cumbersome clothing for the ride, his ankle dagger, and his pistol.
“What is thisall about, Mr. Tyrell? Why have you taken me, and why are we heading to Averly Abbey? That is our destination, is it not?” Gwen asked.
She flicked a glance at the pistol, and was gratified to see he no longer aimed it directly at her. It rested on his thigh, still in his hand, but his finger was not curled around the trigger.
He gazed at her, a look of amusement flitting over his pleasantface. “I can see you’re not going to rest until your curiosity is assuaged. Yes, we are heading to the abbey—more specifically, the river near the abbey.”
“I see. I am to be bait, then? For you to entrap my husband?”
He did not answer. In fact, he looked rather bored. She would have to draw him out if she hoped to gather any useful information.
She slanted him a glance. “The river, yes, you would choose there, wouldn’t you?”
His gaze sharpened with interest. “I beg your pardon?”
She decided to voice her theory. “You tried to drown him there once, without success. What happened there? It seems to me, you acted out of…” She thought a moment. “Anger. Something happened to cause you to snap. One moment he was writing in his journal, you were fishing, and then what?”
He stared at her, as if reluctantly fascinated.
Shewason the right track.
“Jealousy,” she decided. “Jealousy can spur someone with, let’s say, poor impulse control to do something rash.”
His lips pursed and he glanced pointedly out the small-paneled window.
Jealousy over what, she wondered? Grayson would inherit the title, not Gideon. The answer came to her in a flash. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fannie.”
His gaze slid back in her direction.
“You had atendrefor her, and she had eyes only for Gideon.”
“A girl like Fannie, from the highest rung of society, chasing after a mixed-breed bastard? It made no sense. For the life of me, I’ll never understand what any of you see in him.”
She gave him a knowing smile and made no reply.
Her coy look served to keep him talking, as she’d hoped.
“If you must know, she liked to toy with males, Fannie did. It gave her a rush. She told me all about it at the time, as we were mates, andthen…we were more than mates. Oh, I see you hadn’t worked that part out. Yes, Fannie had a wild streak she could not contain. We would meet in secret. It was a lovely arrangement.”
“But, it wasn’t really you she wanted, was it?” Gwen asked.
