Page 104 of The Lyon Returns
He hated to take this from him, but needs must. “Father—”
“Lord Ashwood,” Gwen cut in, her voice warm and sure as if she had not, a moment ago, considered making a run for it. “Gideon and I have a strong suspicion of what awaits us. Does it involve a recitation of our marital vows?” She levied her most disarming smile on his father, and, though dread pitted out Gideon’s stomach, he could not help feeling a modicum of sympathy for the old man. He appeared dazed when blasted with the undiluted potency of her charm.
Seconds later, composure regained, he took one of Gwen’s hands between his and, like Gideon, immediately noted the ring she wore. His eyes, so like Gideon’s, went misty.
He cleared his throat before replying. “It does indeed. I hope you do not mind humoring an old fool who wishes to honor the two of you and, selfishly, to witness my eldest son embarking on his new life with you.”
“How could I mind, my lord?” Gwen said.
Ashwood’s face split in a gratified smile, then he chanced to glance at Gideon—and frowned, clearly disturbed by whatever he read in his expression. “Son?”
“Lord Ashwood, would you be so kind as to allow us a moment to confer?” Gwen asked, taking charge of the situation. Out of nowhere a vision of her running her beloved publishing house came to him and he knew, without a shadow of doubt, she would manage the business masterfully, if she could ever pry it out of the stakeholders’ controlling fists.
“Yes, of course. I’ll wait right over there.” He flicked another glance at Gideon, before returning his focus to Gwen. “I thought, as your own father is not able to be here, I would escort you down the aisle.”
“I…nothing would make me happier, Your Grace,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
Ashwood took her hand, squeezed it, then moved down the corridor, far enough to grant them privacy.
Gwen’s sky-blue eyes met Gideon’s. Without uttering a word, she told him all would be well, assured him she had no issue going through with, in her mind, another extension of their existing farce. Honorable to a fault was his bluestocking wife. If she only knew what her choice would cost her.
“You’re sure?” he asked, even though he knew now that she’d set her intention, she would not be deterred.
She sent him a tremulous smile and inclined her head in the merest of nods.
“Very well.”Do not be surprised, Gwendolyn Barnes, when I never let you go. Without another word, he turned and strode toward his father—and his future, for better or worse.
Pausing as he passed to squeeze the duke’s shoulder, he met the old man’s eyes. Something shrewd glinted in his familiar gaze, but Gideon did not spare a moment to contemplate precisely what. His course was set.
Nearing the parlor, he made out the quiet din of conversation from within. From behind, he heard Gwen’s soft footfalls and the more determined steps of his father.
Facing the open double doors, he surveyed the parlor. It had been converted into a chapel-like space. An aisle comprised of white velvet carpet strewn with rose petals divided two blocks of fold-out chairs where their guests sat, gazing toward Gideon with wide-eyed anticipation.
A temporary dais stood at the aisle’s end, a makeshift altar bathed in light thanks to all of the terrace doors standing open behind it through which sunshine streamed in.
The dome of gray clouds from earlier had burned off, it seemed,leaving blue skies the color of his wife’s eyes.
For better or worse, he told himself again, and crossed the threshold.
The ceremony tookmere minutes. The priest spoke a few words, Gwen and Gideon responded appropriately, exuberant cheers went up. Then everyone was ushered outside onto the terrace. Gwen moved as if in a daze, as if she had stepped from one realm of existence to another.
She tried to tell herself nothing had changed. Just because she had spoken sacred vows before a priest, in front of her closest friends and Gideon’s family, while the man she’d foolishly fallen in love with spoke the exact same vows, gazing into her eyes as if he meant every word, why should anything have changed?
Standing in the brisk air, she found herself surrounded by Amelia, Georgina, Lady Harriet, Margaret, and Nancy, all the ladies of the Literary Society of London, save Charlotte who had been unable to attend thanks to a prior engagement she could not break. They hugged her, each in turn offering felicitations, eyes damp, hankies clutched. Their cautiously hopeful expressions told Gwen exactly where they stood concerning her pretend marriage. They wanted it to be real.
Lord help her, she understood. But it wasn’t, not that she could go into any explanations now. Luckily, they clearly understood that, too.
“What a perfectly wondrous way to conclude the party,” Nancy enthused.
“Indeed,” Georgina said, adding in a conspiratorial tone only their party could hear, “I can hardly wait to get my hands on one of my notebooks. If this isn’t fodder for a romantic novelist’s imagination, I don’t know what is.”
Margaret kissed her cheek. “We shall certainly have to gather soon to discuss…our latest novel, of course.” She winked at Gwen, before moving aside for Lady Harriet.
“Our latest novel, and your immediate plans.” Lady Harriet flicked a brief glance at Gideon before continuing. “I had thought, perhaps, Mr. Devereux intended to take an extended holiday after seeing your new publishing house off to a smooth start. Now I wonder if, perhaps, I misunderstood. Life certainly is more interesting now that you have joined us, Gwen.”
Amelia, ravishing in a dress of violet silk that matched her brilliant eyes, was the last of her friends to congratulate her. “You make a most beautiful bride, Mrs. Devereux.” She leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I cannot help but wonder if this is not precisely what our mutual friend had in mind all along.”
The women dispersed as the Duke of Ashwood approached. He came bearing two glasses of champagne and handed one to Gwen. “My dear, I’m glad we have a moment to ourselves. I wanted to thank you,” he said.
