Page 67 of The Lyon Returns
She gave her a come-now look. “Of mixed descent, among…otherthings.”
Other things—like his illegitimacy. “And yet, marry him she did.”
“So she did. Then she died, she and her babe, taking to her grave her reasons for the sacrifice she made, I’m afraid.”
Sacrifice.If she never heard that word again, it would be too soon. “Perhaps she loved him.”
“Love? No.”
Gwen stared at her, horrified, though why she should be.Members of the upper crust rarely married for love. Still. Something about the way the duchess answered told her she could not fathom a possibility where Gideon’s late wife might have loved him. Worse was the poison the lady had fed Gideon—that he was unworthy of the woman.
“My lady, may I ask what your aim is in telling me these things?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I wish to know your reason for marrying the duke’s son, for I know there must be one.” Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth as if preparing to say more, but the library door swung open.
“Here they are, Gideon.” The duke’s hand gripped the doorjamb as he leaned back and raised his voice to echo down the corridor. A moment later, he strode toward them. The look he sent the duchess had a predatory edge. “The conversation grew tedious without the ladies present. So, here we are.”
Chapter Eighteen
Gideon’s gaze sharpenedon Gwen as he crossed the library toward her. For the last quarter of an hour, he’d felt a tug in his gut to go to her. To protect her, of all things.
Ridiculous, really. She had started this farce. Fully informed as to whose family she supposedly married into, she’d chosen to act as his wife to satisfy her own ends. Moreover, she was a grown woman who could certainly handle an hour alone with the duchess.
Nevertheless, when the duke suggested they go in search of the ladies, Gideon had pushed back from the table, all but upending the heavy dining chair. He’d exited the hall, feigning ignorance of both the gleaming amusement in his father’s eyes and the speculation in his brother’s.
Now, glimpsing Gwen’s translucent cheeks, he cursed the rationale that had kept him from seeking her out sooner. Had the duchess said something to upset her, or was maintaining the facade of a newlywed couple what had stolen the color from her cheeks?
He lowered onto the chair nearest hers, catching her eye.
Her mouth curved in a brave little smile. Battered but not defeated, then.
An odd sense of pride welled up inside him, almost as if she really were his wife, weathering the trial of meeting his family for the first time.
“Now, then. What have the two of you been discussing? I hope my wife has not been belaboring drivel from the past.” He slanted the stately woman a hard look.
“Not at all,” Gwen answered, twining her fingers in her lap. “Lady Ashwood expressed the normal curiosity one would expect.”
“Normal curiosity,” he aped, not shifting his gaze from the duchess.
She sent him a steely smile which he did not return. Instead, he moved on, addressing the room as a whole. “I have decided Lady Ashwood and I will return to Averly Abbey on the morrow.”
“So soon?” Grayson demanded, brows furrowed.
Lady Ashwood gazed on Gideon’s brother—her beloved son—regret etching her features, and reproached the duke. “Ashwood, did I not tell you Grayson would wish for us to extend our stay?”
He waved that off. “Nevertheless, we must return home. Business awaits which requires my personal attention, and then I’ve decided upon hosting a house party—a week from today.” He turned to Gideon. “You and Gwen will make it a point to attend?”
“Well, as to that…” Aside from spending time with his father, the idea of rusticating for days at the abbey held no appeal, not to mention this business with the Home Office hanging over his head.
He glanced at Gwen to gauge her reaction and was gratified by the renewed color in her cheeks. Too much color. She practically glowed.
She gazed at him with eyes as wide as saucers. It dawned on him, then, what she must be thinking.
Stifling the urge to grin, he answered his father. “Of course, sir. We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Excellent.” The duke rubbed his hands together. “It will be a small affair. Family, close friends, a few key guests. Gwen, Gideon tellsme you have a ladies’ club you attend. You must give me the members’ direction so that I can see they’re invited.”
“That is most thoughtful, Your Grace,” she murmured. She did not look grateful. She looked like a cornered hare.
