Page 129 of The Lyon Returns
“Mr. Landry, as I recall, you resided for several weeks in mine and Reggie’s home after our so-called disagreement during which time you might have apologized. You had Reggie and my direction, as well, and could have written to voice your regret over your abhorrent behavior.”
He flushed. “I tried to talk to Reggie about the situation, and he wanted no part of it.”
She had not known that. “I see.”
He sniffed. “Between his dismissive attitude and your changed wardrobe before my departure, I assumed he held you at least partially to blame for the manner in which I conducted myself?”
She had come to the same lamentable conclusion—Reggie had blamed her—even if she also understood there was a degree of unwholesome jealousy behind her husband’s choice to clothe her in the dowdy gowns. It was almost as if he’d wanted to punish her for the poet’s interest in her—as opposed to him.
For some odd reason, the knowledge no longer cut so deep, nor did she harbor the old anger for Reggie for committing his final act. Instead, she remembered the love she had for him, her dear, dear friend. Compassion for the difficulty he’d faced for no reason other than being who he was, filled her. But she could say nothing of that to Mr. Landry.
“Gwen,” he said, voice grave. “I never forgot you, and my feelings for you have not changed. I know you shared an affection for me, which your vows would not allow you to act upon, but now, we are free to explore—”
She held her hand up, palm out. “You are quite mistaken, sir. I esteemed you as a friend and a talented artist—only. Furthermore, I do not believe my current husband would appreciate meexploring”—she paused meaningfully—“your poetry salon, however well attended.”
“You are married? Again? Already?”
“Yes. Now, if you do not mind, I really must get back.”
He reached for her hands again, and this time, succeeded in capturing only one. He pressed a card into her palm. “Gwen, should you ever need anything, anything at all, I beseech you to call upon me.”
“I cannot imagine a scenario where that might be even a remote possibility. Good day, sir.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gideon did notlike the look of the man speaking with his wife. He’d observed him while in the queue, noted that he’d seemed particularly keen on speaking to Gwen, going so far as to allow two women behind him to precede him to the counter when Amelia freed up to help them with their purchases.
The arrival of Emily had forced Gideon to look away. By the time he glanced back, the dandily dressed man stood before Gwen. He did not care for the look of the man. Not his manner of dress, nor his overly coiffed hair, nor his intense study of Gwen.Hiswife.
“I do not believe you have heard a word I’ve said, Gideon Devereux, and after I made a special effort to seek you out today.”
With reluctance, Gideon tore his gaze off of Gwen and the foppish gentleman. He was almost certain the two knew each other. One of the stakeholders, perhaps? Somehow, he did not think so.
“I apologize, Emily. I assumed you came here to see your new benefactor and realized he was here with his wife. Is there something I can help you with?”
Her lips curved in a semblance of a smile he had likely once found alluring. “Brice told you of his proposition, did he?”
“Of course. We are old friends.”
Her expression turned sour, as if she sucked on a lemon rind. “And you gave him your blessing without a moment’s hesitation,” she stated, rather than asked.
Gideon’s attention shifted back to Gwen. She and the unknown dandy had moved off to have a private discussion, it seemed. Seeing the two of them together caused an unfamiliar sensation inside him. A distinct burning. Very unpleasant.
Not wishing to be discourteous, he once again regarded Emily. He really did not understand where this was coming from. Granted, she had not wanted the split, but she had not fallen apart like so many women at the conclusion of the affair, touting what was essentially a sexual interlude, as love.
He lowered his voice. “Emily, you and I spent an enjoyable period of time together, but that time came to its predictable end, as we both knew it would. I harbor no ill will toward you. Indeed, I wish you only happiness, and would like to think the sentiment is mutual. If Brice, despite his married status, is whom you choose to take your enjoyment with…” His words drifted off and he spread his arms wide.
A smirk tugged at her lips. “I had forgotten your moralistic notions concerning married persons forming liaisons.”
Gideon saw no reason to defend his preference, so he said nothing.
She sighed. “I had hoped hearing I had accepted Brice as a replacement might spur you to reconsider. It seems you’re quite taken with your little bluestocking wife. But I know you, Gideon. It’s only a matter of time before you grow bored. Sir, are you listening?”
“Yes, yes. Tell me, Emily, do you know that man, speaking with my wife?” Gideon ignored her snort of amusement. He knew he was making a spectacle of himself in her eyes, and didn’t much care.
She shifted to stand beside Gideon to study Gwen and her companion. “Your wife certainly knows how to draw a man’s attention. What is her secret, I wonder?”
Gideon slanted her an annoyed look. “Do you recognize him or not?”
