Page 44 of The Lyon Returns
She shushed the confusing little voice in her head. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said, very definitely. She meant to leave it at that, but found herself continuing. “He does have a tendency to take charge that leaves me…” She searched her mind for how best to describe the sensation. “Oddly lightheaded and overheated at times.”
A considering expression played over her friend’s face. “I think I know exactly what you mean,” she said slowly.
Pleased, Gwen met Amelia’s eyes. “You do?”
She smiled. “My husband also has a strong personality that tends to leave me rather warm and dizzy at times.”
“Extraordinary.” For no reason she could think of, a flush stole up her neck. “Shall we go?”
Amelia linked arms with her as they moved toward the counter to finalize their purchases. “I must say, Gwen, I can hardly wait for tomorrow. If we are very lucky, the others and I shall witness Mr. Devereux witnessing your unveiling. One wonders if he shall have occasion to display his brusque manner, then.”
Chapter Twelve
The sun wason the horizon when Gideon opened the front door of his town house and handed off his great coat, hat, and gloves to Higgins.
“Is my wife at home?” Amazing how quickly he’d gotten used to referring to her as such.
“No, sir. She went out shortly after you this afternoon, and has yet to return. Seemed to be in a terrible hurry.”
He frowned, aware of a sense of disappointment at the news, even though it most likely meant she’d taken his suggestion to do something about her dismal wardrobe to heart. He hoped so, for her sake. Either way, tomorrow night she would appear before the Duke and Duchess of Ashwood.
“Mr. Tyrell is here. I told him I hadn’t any idea when you or Mrs. Devereux might return, and suggested he might call again when expected.” Higgins sniffed in evident disapproval.
Gideon clapped his long-time butler on his shoulder. “Poor Higgins. No one follows a proper schedule these days. Where did you leave him?”
“In the library, sir. I thought it best he not be left to peruse youroffice, especially if Mrs. Devereux returned before you. She makes use of the chamber from time to time.”
Gideon grinned, then remembered Gwen’satelierfurnishings. “By any chance, did Mrs. Devereux commandeer a reading table from the library?”
“Aye, sir. And a chair.”
He considered that. Perhaps he should invest in a desk Gwen could utilize for the duration of her stay. “Please see Mr. Tyrell to my den. I’ll go there directly.”
“Very good, sir.”
Brice did notwait for Higgins to announce him, but slipped past the butler.
“At long last, the missing third in our band of brothers returns to the fold.” He fisted his hands on his narrow hips. The gold buttons of his waistcoat gleamed in the glow of the oil lamps Gideon raised upon entering.
Brice went on as if orating before Parliament. “Does he send word of his arrival? Does he pay his closest friend a call? No, he does not. His friend is forced to learn of his homecoming through a gambling ledger at White’s.”
Gideon propped a hip on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been back little more than twenty-four hours and had every intention of calling on you. I got delayed, thanks to the duke’s unscheduled arrival.”
Brice’s affectation of annoyance faded in an instant. He sauntered toward the plush seating area before the hearth, tugging on his lacy cuffs, then dropped onto the sofa in a laconic sprawl. “Yes, I supposeAshwood would trump me. He trumps everyone for you, just as you do for him. Poor Grayson. The jealousy eats him alive.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gideon said. He joined Brice, taking his preferred armchair. “What’s this about a gambling ledger?”
“What do you think they’re betting on?Lord W bets Lord H that a certain merchant shall be in custody in a matter of two days. Mr. C bets Lord B that Mr. D will see no prison time,”he quoted, as if from memory. “What have you got yourself into, Devereux? Come to think of it, what have you gotmeinto?”
“I was as shocked as you to learn of the foiled arms deal, Brice. As for what’s kept me busy, perhaps you haven’t heard, but I acquired a wife since last we spoke.”
Crossing his arms behind his neck, he studied Gideon. “Ah, yes. The mysterious Mrs. Devereux. What does the duke think of her?” Brice asked in a casual tone.
“They haven’t yet met.”
“Ah. Hence the duke’s arrival. Grayson isn’t overly fond, I can tell you that.”
“Yes, but why would you?” Gideon asked, his voice deceptively soft—for one who didn’t know him well.
