Page 13 of The Lyon Returns
“Excellent.” Without making a conscious decision to do so, he reached for her hand. Her skin was cool, silky smooth, and pale as milk compared to the darker cast of his own.
As he bent over her fingers, his thumb brushed the delicate bones of her knuckles. Delicate, but not fragile. There was strength in her. Surprising for one so…thindid not do her justice, though she was that.
Willowy. Lithe. Nimble.
He glanced up at her from his bowed position.
She regarded him, unblinking. She appeared…pleasantly surprised? As if she found his touch appealing and hadn’t expected to.
Or perhaps he was projecting his own odd awareness onto her.
“Good day, Mrs. Devereux.” He released her hand and strode from his study without a backward glance.
Chapter Four
Gwen listened atthe den’s closed door. Her thoughts skittered like leaves over paving stones in a dry autumn wind. As long as Gideon Devereux remained in the town house, she could not hope to concentrate on anything, save him.
He was alive. He was alive and every bit as vital as she had envisioned—and he wanted her to continue in the role of his fake wife. Why?
Finally, she made out the sound of boot steps on marble, men’s low voices. Then, the front door shut with a resounding thunk.
She strode to the desk and threw herself onto the chair behind it.Hischair. By the saints, he looked exactly right in this space. He was so…masculine. But not merely that. Somehowarresting.Yes.He commanded attention.
He certainly had hers. He wanted to continue with the farce.For the time being, he’d said.Long enough to conclude her business transaction, he’d said.
On the plus side, if she agreed, she could still hope to achieve her goal of purchasing Bell & Company. She could stay in London, and hadn’t that been the goal? To join her friends, and start her life anew?And she could not deny this scenario far surpassed the one in which Mr. Devereux had actually died. Now that she almost knew the man—thanks to her snooping—she could say with some assurance he added something of value to this world.
But it did not follow she owed Gideon Devereux the courtesy of staying the course without first learning what was in it for him, and how their arrangement would conclude—not to mention she had no intention of ceding any aspect of her new company to him.
A conversation was needed. Then she would decide.
In the meantime, Gwen restacked the purchase agreement lying atop Gideon’s desk and began to read over the final—God willing—version of the contract between herself and the stakeholders, while resisting the inclination to contemplate the mysteries surrounding the man who had just upended her life.
An hour later,satisfied all was in order, she signed the document with a flourish, folded and sealed the papers, and called for Mr. Higgins to see them safely couriered to the stakeholder’s solicitor’s office.
She then sought out Mrs. Leach, the housekeeper.
She found the portly, gray-haired woman in her office in the back of Gideon’s town house, muttering over a sheet of parchment.
“Excuse me?” she said from the open door, not wishing to startle the woman.
Nonetheless, Mrs. Leach sprang to her feet as if someone had pinched her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Devereux. You’ll be happy to know I’m checking my shopping list for the market so nothing gets forgotten forthe evenin’ meal.”
“I see…er…thank you.”
“The master has returned,” Mrs. Leach continued. “Cook will want to make sure the ingredients for his favorite foods are readily on-hand. Tonight, especially.”
“Tonight?”
She gave Gwen a knowing look. “Why, the two of you are practically newlyweds. Such a shame you had to part after not even a month as man and wife. But, of course, you had to see to your dear father as every good daughter aught.”
As long as she lived, Gwen would never cease to marvel over the fount of information that traveled between the servants. She had not confided anything to the staff about her father’s illness, which had supposedly prompted her return to England without her husband. She had said as much to Lord Ashwood.
“Never fear, madam, we shall have everything in order for tonight. May I say how happy we all are to have Mr. Devereux home? There was some talk that…” She flushed and shook her head. “Never mind. It was naught but idle gossip, as I always maintained. He’s a fine man, is our master, and we all feel lucky to have found a place in his employ.”
“Oh? That is lovely to hear.” Although, she did wonder whatidle gossipthe housekeeper had refrained from repeating.
“It’s no secret he takes care o’ those who work for him, and I don’t just mean wages, though he is generous.”
