Page 69 of The Lyon Returns
“Something is bothering you, madam.”
She heaved a sigh and, finally, deigned to glance in his direction. “I would not say I’mbotheredso much asconcerned.”
“What concerns you?”
She sniffed and plucked at her skirts. “This house party your father has planned.”
Just so.“What of it?”
She shot him a sharp look. “Sir, do not be deliberately obtuse. It does not suit you.”
“I shall hazard a guess. You take issue with the sleeping arrangements?”
She lifted her chin. “Precisely, sir.”
He sank back into the shadows, spreading his arms over the top of the bench cushion and hoping his pleasure at the thought wasn’t written all over his face. Certainly it would be at the end of her virginal ruse. “We shall certainly be expected to share a suite.”
Her lips pursed.
“You know this, Gwen. It cannot be avoided if we expect anyone to believe our claim of marriage. Have you a viable alternative?” He waited, half expecting she would propose one. His pretend wife was nothing if not clever.
“No,” she admitted. A moment later, she brightened visibly. “Unless we can, somehow, avoid attending?”
“No,” he said with finality.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” She huffed and turned to gaze out the window, clearly put out.
“Gwen, we are both adults, not children fresh from the schoolroom. Or do you anticipate having difficulty of a…” he paused for effect, “lascivious nature?”
She gasped in what appeared to be legitimate shock. “Me? Heavens, no, sir.”
He did not know whether to chuckle or scowl. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear it,” he said dryly.
She flushed and resumed plucking imaginary lint from her skirts.
“I assure you, I have no intention of ravishing you, madam, if that is your concern.”
“Of course not,” she said in a breathless rush, but the small pucker between her brows was back. “You have already shown yourself to be a man of honor in that regard.”
“I remind you, this charade commenced at your behest.”
“I’m aware.”
“It’s settled, then. We shall attend my father’s house party, keeping up appearances as man and wife.”
He took her lack of reply as acquiescence. A perverse sense of anticipation filled him at the thought of sharing an intimate space with Gwen, even knowing having her so close, so accessible, while at the same time totally untouchable would cause him no end of torment—unless she gave in to her own sensual nature.
Why had she not? She, a widow, and one clearly attracted to him? Was it her husband’s memory that held her back? Jealousy, swift and fierce and totally unexpected rushed through him. Annoyed with himself, he batted back the ineffectual emotion.
The carriage slowed, turning onto Portman Square. Soon they would arrive at his home. Gwen would retire to her chamber, Gideon to his. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss? Anything at all?” Such as the two of them commencing an affair?
He was grasping at straws, and he knew it. If Gwen were interested, she certainly would not have objected to the house party, he thought dourly.
“Well, there was one thing worrying me, but that turned out to be the work of my own imagination.” She sent him a chagrined smile.
“Oh?” He twitched the curtains aside to gauge their distance from home.
“I thought, for a moment, when I mentioned your friend…”
