Page 120 of The Lyon Returns
She shook off the unsettling thoughts and sent the waiting Higgins a sunny smile. “Very well. I shall go up to my workroom.” She started for the stairs, then paused. “Kindly inform Mr. Devereux if he cares to…never mind,” she said, breaking off mid-sentence. She had no need to invite Gideonif he cared to visit.
For heaven’s sake. If he cared to, he could make the decision on his own.
A half hourlater, Gideon bid Brice wait a moment and let himself out of his den.
Brice had managed to acquire Rory’s home address and had come posthaste to inform Gideon of that fact, and to beg him to allow the authorities to do the questioning.
Gideon refused. “What shall I say to them? A retired customs official informed me of missing shipments aboard several of my ships and because of that I think he may have committed treason?”
Brice’s scowl said Gideon made a good point. “When you put it like that, I wonder myself why I bothered tracking down the man’s location.”
Higgins spotted Gideon standing in the corridor and hurried over. “Help you sir?”
Gideon felt slightly foolish. Nevertheless, better to feel foolish asking after his wife’s whereabouts without having Brice as a witness. “Is my wife at home?”
“Yes, sir. She came in some thirty minutes ago. She…er…mentioned she would be in her work chamber.”
Gideon glanced toward the staircase.
Higgins went on. “She asked after you and seemed rather disappointed when she learned you had company. I got the very strong impression she wished to see you when your company departed.”
Gideon felt his cheeks going ruddy, damn his eyes. His butler had evidently noted his need for coddling where his wife was concerned. “Thank you,” he muttered, and started for the stairs.
The muted sounds of Gwen humming a cheery tune reached Gideon’s ears as he stood before her closed door. He waited a moment, soaking in the lightness her presence brought that seemed to permeate every square inch of his home from the walls to the floors to the air he breathed. Then, finally, he knocked.
“Come,” she called.
He entered bright and cheerful chamber and closed the door behind him.
Gwen sat at the desk she’d commandeered from his library. She’d opened the drapes, and sunshine spilled in from the window, lighting her workspace and the woman herself.
Quill in hand, she sent him a warm, welcoming smile that momentarily stole his ability to think. “Hello, Gideon. I take it Mr. Tyrell has left?” She reached for the soft cloth near the ink pot and set about drying the nib.
“No, he hasn’t. As a matter of fact,” he began as Gwen rose to her feet and headed in his direction, “he and I are about to go out.”
She halted, her expression turning so crestfallen, he could not help but smile.
“I see. But it’s nearly time for supper.”
“Supper’s not for an hour, easily.”
“I know that. I only meant, if you’re going out, it seems unlikely you’ll be back in time to…” She broke off, shaking her head a little.
Unless he missed his mark, his wife wanted to have dinner with him. He suddenly felt very good about his decision to share his plans with her—even if he would likely return too late to sup with her.
“Is there something you need, sir?”
He started toward her without making a conscious decision to do so. “I wanted to let you know, Brice located Mr. Rory’s home address.”
“Oh, that’s…that’s…wait,” she said, her brows beetling. “Never say you’re going there now?”
He stopped with less than a foot separating them. “Of course I am.”
“But sir,” she began, her sky-blue eyes widening with evident alarm, “that does not seem wise.”
“Why ever not?” he asked.
“He may be involved in treason, Gideon. Calling on him at the office is one thing. There were many people about, witnesses. Visiting him at home, on your own, is quite another.”
