Page 37 of The Lyon Returns
He backed deliberately away from her, searching his mind for a neutral topic to latch onto. Something involvinganythingother than tumbling his pretend wife on a desk covered in books and bathed in sunlight.
“Apologies, again,” he said gruffly. Although, come to think of it, she had been the one to step into his path—twice. Why had she? Unfortunately, he did not think she meant to seduce him.
A quick scan of her person offered no insight. Then, he noted the papers still fisted in her hand. Instinct told him not to waste time asking to see them. He simply reached out and took them.
“Sir,” she protested. “Return those, at once.”
He ignored her and skimmed the body of text. “Bloody hell,” he growled. “It’s because of me. They caught wind of the rumors about me.”
Chapter Ten
Gwen had forgottenshe still held the missive with the stakeholders’ latest stipulation—another caveat to her purchase which she feared did indeed owe to the rumors surrounding Gideon. Thinking he might not react well to the news, she’d kept it from him, then proceeded to lose her focus when he appeared intent on scrutinizing her desktop.
His thick brows furrowed as he read the addendum aloud. “In an effort to maintain the prestige and reputation of Bell & Company, the stakeholders deem this contract of purchase contingent upon the clauses agreed upon aboveand the following: Mr. and Mrs. Gideon Devereux will maintain a reputation of good standing as citizens of Great Britain for the duration of not less than three months’ time following the sale. Any legal proceeding against either within the time frame stated shall render this agreement null and void.”
He snapped the missive against his hard-looking thigh. “Of all the gall. I don’t suppose they intend to return your money should the Home Office decide to hang me?”
She gave him a look of stern rebuke. “Kindly do not joke about such a thing, Gideon. As for whether they would return my moneyshould the sale fall through, the answer isyes. In the terms they first presented, any loss of ownership predicated on my not meeting one of their stipulations”—she ticked off examples with her fingers—“mismanaging the business, a low level of professional standards, would also have meant I forfeited my investment capital.”
Feeling very good about her negotiation skills, she twined her hands before her and twisted her torso, preening. “I refused to sign on those grounds. Eventually, they came ’round to my way of thinking. If I am forced to surrender the business for any reason, I leave with my collateral intact.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Who decides what constitutes meeting these so-calledprofessional standards? These priggish stakeholders?” He waggled the papers in the air.
She started for the opposite side of the room, gratified when she turned to see him trailing after her. “I am well abreast of the professional standards in my field, sir.”
He gave her an expression of doubt. “Gwen, you did have a solicitor go over the contract with you?”
“Of course.” She had welcomed Lady Harriet’s man-of-affairs advice the first go-round. Not precisely a solicitor, but a well-versed businessman. After that, she saw no need for the added expense. She had the necessary expertise to see to the matter herself.
“I could have my solicitor look at it.”
“Please, sir. Well-intentioned as it may be, I do not require your advice any more than you would mine concerning your shipping ventures.”
He looked as if he wished to argue. Then he glanced at the door. “As it happens, I must leave again for a short time. My father has requested my presence at his club.” His broad mouth twitched.
He had a very fine mouth. Beautifully shaped. Lips, full, but not overly so.
She held her outstretched hand, palm up. “If you please, sir.”
He returned the missive, albeit with obvious reluctance.
“Gideon, do you think this business with the Home Office is likely to become more problematic? Renewed rumors, circulating in such a broad manner, can’t be a good sign.”
His vibrant eyes took on a decidedly frosty cast. “Regretting tying your horse to my wagon?”
The accusation stung. “Not at all. My concern is for your welfare. It is a matter of life and death, after all.”
He rubbed a tanned hand over his square jaw. “I can only tell you, I returned home on the gamble our marriage would clear my name. When added to the duke’s timely arrival into town, the odds should swing in my favor.”
“I trust you are right.” She sent him her sunniest smile. “Take that, stakeholders.”
His vivid eyes danced with amusement, and he strode for the door. His hand on the lever, he turned. “Gwen,” he began, pressing his lips together as if contemplating how to phrase his next thought.
She squared her shoulders, anticipating warding off another appeal to avail herself of his solicitor.
“The duke’s arrival is no coincidence. He’s here, becauseweare here.”
“We? You meanyou, surely?”
