Page 15 of The Lyon Returns
Not that anyone had told Gideon of the duke’s interference.
No one had to.
The rain stoppedas the cab arrived in front of number 38 Grosvenor Square. Gideon hopped down, tossed some coins to the driver, then strode through the wrought iron gate and up the stone walkway.
No sooner had he employed the iron knocker, than the heavy front door swung open.
Mr. Lyle, the duke’s ancient butler who’d run the manse as long asGideon could remember, greeted Gideon with a warm smile, and ushered him inside.
“Mr. Devereux, how good it is to see you, sir. Your brother, Lord Ashwood, will be overjoyed at your arrival.”
“Good, he’s in. Where might I find him?” Gideon asked, shrugging out of his coat.
Mr. Lyle took the garment and waited, palm out, as he stripped off his leather gloves. “In his den, sir. Shall I announce you or would you rather see to that yourself?” The older man grinned, knowingly.
“Thank you, Mr. Lyle. I know the way.”
Gideon headed for the den, unable to take in the familiar surroundings without recalling scenes from his boyhood, and the days he resided with the duke and his wife, when they split their time between London and Surrey. In his mind’s eye, he saw his father coming down the broad staircase, or sitting at the breakfast table reading his newspaper, or presiding behind his desk in the den his brother now claimed as his own. The duke would have been about Gideon’s age, then.
Gideon had not known the man as the formidable powerhouse he was, but as his father, who always had a warm smile and twinkle in his eyes for his eldest son. A father who always saw him as better, braver, and smarter than he was—something the duchess never failed to remark upon.
She hadn’t meant to be deliberately cruel. She simply resented her son, Grayson, having to share their father’s attention and praise. Mayhap she was right to do so.
Reaching the den, he rapped his knuckles on the doorjamb.
Grayson, Viscount Ashwood and heir to the dukedom, lounged atop a large armchair near the hearth reading a journal. He looked up, a questioning gaze on his face. The moment he spotted Gideon, he tossed the journal aside and leapt to his feet. “Gideon, at last.”
In seconds flat, Gideon found himself wrapped in a warm embrace.He returned the gesture, patting his younger brother’s shoulder. “Good to see you, Grayson.”
Grayson grasped Gideon’s arms and leaned back, his caramel-colored eyes wide and brimming with a combination of relief and consternation. “But where have you been? When did you return? I had begun to despair ever laying eyes on you again.” His rapid-fire speech left no room for Gideon to reply.
“And look at me, holding you captive in the doorway. Come in, come in.” He pointed toward the sitting area he’d vacated. “Sit, I’ll get us a brandy.”
“Thank you. I could use one.”
Grayson paused halfway to the credenza. “Are you hungry? I can have Cook fix something—”
“A brandy will suffice.” He would save his appetite for tonight, when he dined with Gwen. At the thought of her, another burst of anticipation shafted through him before he could staunch the unwelcome response.
Grayson grinned and continued to the credenza, reminding Gideon of how he’d looked as a boy, ever genial and aiming to please his older brother. “When did you get back?” As he poured, he eyed the open door.
“This morning.”
He scooped up the snifters, veered toward the door to close it with a kick of his booted foot, then rejoined Gideon, speaking all the while. “You won’t believe what I have to tell you. So much has happened.”
He handed Gideon a snifter.
“I’m all ears.”
“First, I must know where you’ve been. You should have returned from India months ago.”
Thirteen months ago, Gideon had sailed his sleek brig for Calcutta—purportedly the same ship on which Gwen and her father had booked passage.
Grayson, and the other members of his consortium, had expected Gideon to return to England no later than October, November at the latest. It was now February.
“Something unexpected kept me longer than I’d planned.”
Grayson’s expression turned speculative. “Something unexpected, as in your business interests proving more complicated than you’d anticipated, or…?”
