Page 35 of The Lyon Returns
“What do I intend? Obviously, I must keep her for the time being,” he replied in a carefully neutral tone as he stepped from the drawing room. “All should be well so long as she does not decide she wishes to remain married in truth.”
Her lips twitched. “I wouldn’t worry overly, Devereux.”
“No?”
“It took no small amount of convincing to get her to accept any sort of husband, dead or otherwise. She was quite vehement she did not want another one, absent one condition.”
Reluctant curiosity begged the question. “What condition is that?”
“She does not wish to marry again, save for love.”
Gideon snorted. “That rules me out.” Before he turned to follow the servant who had materialized from the shadows, he thought he heard the widow’s soft words. “We will see about that, Gideon Devereux.”
He did not look back.
Gideon deposited hisphaeton with the groom in the mews behind his street and made his way to the front door of his town house.
He let himself in, waving Higgins off when he saw the butler hastening toward the foyer. “I can manage my own coat and gloves, Higgins.”
His long-time butler murmured his assent, but continued toward him. “Sir, a message arrived while you were out.”
“Oh?”
“From the duke, sir. I thought you’d want to know.” Higgins handed him the folded and sealed missive.
“Thank you.” He thumbed off his father’s seal, and unfolded the parchment, then scanned the brief missive.
The duke was in town, as Grayson had predicted, and had summoned him. There was no reason he couldn’t go now. On the other hand, he was supposedly a recently married man. “Is my wife about?”
A pleased gleam shone in the servant’s faded eyes. “Aye, sir, she’s in her…” He broke off, his expression perplexed. “I don’t know what to call it, sir.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Mrs. Devereux has converted one of the upper guest chambers into a…” His eyes lit with inspiration. “Anatelier. Last door on the—”
A feminine shriek sounded from the vicinity of the second floor, followed by an unladylike epithet. His English rose wife had an interesting vocabulary.
Gideon bounded up the stairs, then raced down the corridor toward the aforementioned chamber.
He flung the door open—to utter chaos.
The wardrobe, escritoire and bed which hadpreviously occupied the bulk of the chamber had been removed.
A polished wooden table and chair—from his library, he was fairly sure—had been set before the window. The shutters were folded back, and the gauze privacy curtains billowed in the afternoon breeze. Fresh air and sunshine streamed in, illuminating mounds of papers, leather-bound tomes, notebooks, journals, newspapers—and in the center of it all, Gwen.
In her hand she clutched a document, which she studied wearing a furious scowl—and the same uninspired dress from this morning. Wisps of fine, blonde hair had escaped her once-neat bun, which now hung askew at her nape. She did not appear to have noticed he’d entered.
“Madam,” he said cautiously. “Are you in need of assistance?”
Her blue eyes snapped in his direction. “Those wily bastards,” she fumed. “They not only didnotsign the purchase agreement, they added another caveat.”
“I see.” Upon due consideration, he closed the door to the corridor, then clasped his hands behind him. “I take it the Bell & Company stakeholders are thewily bastardsto whom you refer?”
“Oh.” The dimple in her right cheek winked into view. “I said that aloud.”
He meandered toward her. “You did.”
She huffed in annoyance. “I received this correspondence not five minutes ago. Assuming they had sent the signed and sealed contract, I brought it up here to read it at my leisure, only to learn that they…” Abruptly she broke off. Then her expression grew instantly cheerful. “Never mind. How was your day, Gideon? So far, that is? I suppose it is still quite early.”
