The Lion's Lady

Chapter Six

" Lyon, whatever is the matter with you? Why, you actually smiled at Matthews. Didn't I hear you ask after his mother, too? You aren't feeling well, are you?"

The questions were issued by Lyon 's sister, Lady Diana, who was now chasing her brother up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Lyon paused to turn back to Diana. "You aren't happy when I'm frowning, and now you seem upset because I'm smiling. Make up your mind on the matter of my disposition and I shall try to accommodate you."

Diana's eyes widened over the teasing tone in her brother's voice. "You are sick, aren't you? Is your knee paining you again? Don't look at me as though I've grown another head. It isn't at all usual for you to smile, especially when you come to visit Mama. I know how tiring she can be. Remember, brother, I live with her. You only have to visit her once a week. I know Mama can't help the way she is, but there are times I wish you'd let me move into your town-house. Is that shameful of me to admit?"

"Being honest with your brother is not shameful. You've had a time of it since James died, haven't you?"

The sympathy in Lyon 's voice made Diana's eyes fill with tears. Lyon hid his exasperation. His sister was such an emotional whirlwind when it came to matters of family. Lyon was quite the opposite. It was difficult for him to show outward affection. He briefly considered putting his arm around his sister's shoulders to offer her sympathy, then pushed the awkward notion aside. She'd probably be so astonished by the gesture she'd break down into full-blown weeping.

Lyon wasn't up to tears today. It was quite enough he was going to endure another god-awful visit with his mother.

"I really thought Mama was going to get better when you made her servants open her townhouse for my season, Lyon, but she hasn't left her room since the day we arrived in London."

He merely nodded, then continued toward his destination. "Mama isn't the least bit better," Diana whispered. She trailed behind her brother's shadow. "I try to talk to her about the parties I've attended. She doesn't listen, though. She only wants to talk about James."

"Go back downstairs and wait for me, Diana. There's something I wish to discuss with you. And quit looking so worried," he added with a wink. "I promise I won't upset our mother. I'll be on my best behavior."

"You will?" Diana's voice squeaked. "You aren't feeling well, are you?"

Lyon started laughing. "God, have I really been such an ogre?"

Before Diana could think of a tactful answer that wouldn't be an outright lie, Lyon opened the door to his mother's quarters. He used the heel of his boot to close the door, then proceeded across the dark, stuffy room.

The Marchioness was reclining on top of her black satin covers. She was, as usual, dressed in black, from the silk cap covering her gray hair to the cotton stockings covering her feet. Lyon wouldn't have been able to find her if it weren't for her pasty white complexion glaring out from the shroud of black.

It was a fact that the Marchioness mourned with true dedication. Lyon thought she took to the task with as much intensity as a spoiled child took to tantrums. God only knew the woman had done it long enough to have become a master.

It was enough to make a dead man sit up and take notice. James had been gone for over three years now, but his mother continued to act as though the freakish accident had just taken place the day before.

"Good afternoon, Mother." Lyon gave his standard greeting, then sat down in the chair adjacent to the bed.

"Good afternoon, Lyon."

The visit was now over. They wouldn't speak again until Lyon took his leave. The reason was simple. Lyon refused to talk about James, and his mother refused to talk about any other topic. The silence would be maintained during the half hour Lyon stayed. To pass the time, he struck light to the candles and read The Morning Herald.

The ritual never varied.

He was usually in a foul mood when the ordeal was over. Today, however, he wasn't too irritated by his mother's shameful behavior.

Diana was waiting in the foyer. When she saw the smile was still on her brother's face, her worry about his health intensified. Why, he was acting so strangely!

Her mind leapt from one horrid conclusion to another. "You're going to send Mama and me back to the country, aren't you, Lyon? Oh, please, do reconsider," Diana wailed. "I know Uncle Milton has been a disappointment, but he can't help being bedridden with his liver again. And I do so want to go to Creston's ball."

"Diana, I shall be honored to take you to Creston's bash. And I never considered sending you home, sweet. You've had your presentation, and you'll certainly have the rest of the season. Have I ever gone back on my word?"

"Well… no," Diana admitted. "But you've never smiled this much either. Oh, I don't know what to think. You're always in a terrible mood after you've seen Mama. Was she more agreeable today, Lyon?"

"No," Lyon said. "And that's what I wanted to discuss with you, Diana. You need someone here to show you the way to go around. Since Milton isn't able and his wife won't go anywhere without him, I've decided to send for Aunt Harriett. Does that meet with your-"

"Oh, yes, Lyon," Diana interrupted. She clasped her hands together. "You know how much I love Father's sister. She has such a wonderful sense of humor. Will she agree, Lyon?"

"Of course," Lyon answered. "I'll send for her immediately. Now then, I'd like a favor."

"Anything, Lyon. I'll-"

"Send a note to Princess Christina inviting her here for tea. Make it for the day after tomorrow."

Diana broke into giggles. "Now I understand your strange behavior. You're smitten with the Princess, aren't you?"

"Smitten? What a stupid word," Lyon answered. His voice sounded with irritation. "No, I'm not smitten."

"I shall be pleased to invite the Princess. I can't help but wonder why you don't just send a note requesting an audience, though."

"Christina's aunt doesn't find me suitable," Lyon announced.

"The Marquess of Lyonwood isn't suitable?" Diana looked horrified. " Lyon, you have more titles than most men in England. You can't be serious."

"By the way, don't tell Christina I'll be here. Let her think it will be just the two of you."

"What if she requests that I come to her home instead?"

"She won't," Lyon advised.

"You seem very certain."

"I don't think she has enough money to entertain," Lyon said. "Keep this a secret, Diana, but I believe the Princess is in dire financial straits. The townhouse is a bit shabby-so are the furnishings-and I've heard the Countess had denied everyone who has requested entrance."

"Oh, the poor dear," Diana announced, shaking her head. "But why don't you want her to know you'll be here?"

"Never mind."

"I see," Diana said.

Lyon could tell from her expression she didn't see at all.

"I do like the Princess," Diana gushed when Lyon glared at her.

"You didn't come away confused?"

"I don't understand," Diana said. "Whatever do you mean?"

"When you spoke to her," Lyon explained. "Did she make sense with her answers?"

"Well, of course she made sense."

Lyon hid his exasperation. It had been a foolish question to put to someone as scatterbrained as his little sister. Diana's disposition had always been as flighty as the wind. He loved her, yet knew he'd go to his grave without having any understanding of what went on inside her mind. "I imagine you two will become fast friends," Lyon predicted.

"Would that upset you?"

"Of course not," Lyon answered. He gave Diana a curt nod, then started out the door.

"Well, why are you frowning again?" Diana called after him.

Lyon didn't bother to answer his sister. He mounted his black steed and went riding in the countryside. The brisk exercise was just what he needed to clear his mind. He was usually able to dispatch all unnecessary information and target in on the pertinent facts. Once he'd thrown out the insignificant, he was certain he'd be able to figure out his attraction to the most unusual woman in all of England. He was going to use cold reason to come to terms with his unreasonable affliction.

And it was an affliction, Lyon decided. To let Christina affect his every thought, his every action, was simply unacceptable. Confusing, too.

As confusing as being told he made her as nervous as a buffalo.

And where in God's name had she seen buffaloes?

The Earl of Rhone paced the carpet in front of his desk. His library was in shambles, but Rhone wouldn't let any of the servants inside to clean. Since being wounded, he'd been in too much discomfort to think about such mundane matters as household chores.

The injury was healing. Rhone had poured hot water over the opening, then wrapped his wrist in clean white gauze. Even though he wore an oversized jacket from his father's closet so that he could conceal the bandage, he was determined to stay hidden inside his townhouse until the wound was completely healed. He wasn't about to take any chances of being found out. There was too much work still to be done.

Rhone 's primary concern was Princess Christina. He thought she might have recognized him. The way she'd stared at him and the funny, surprised look on her face did suggest she had known who was behind the mask.

Did Lyon know? Rhone mulled over that worry a long while, then concluded his friend had been too occupied with protecting the little Princess to take a good look at him.

And just who in God's name had thrown the knife at him? Why, he'd been so surprised, he'd dropped his pistol. Whoever it was had a lousy aim, Rhone decided, and he'd thank God for that small blessing. Damn, he could have been killed.

He was going to have to be more careful. Rhone had no intention of quitting his activity. There were four names on his list, and every one of them was going to be tormented. It was the least he could do to ease his father's humiliation.

A servant's hesitant knock on the door broke Rhone 's pacing. "Yes?" he bellowed, letting his irritation carry through the door. He had specifically ordered his staff not to interrupt him.

"The Marquess of Lyonwood is here to see you, my lord."

Rhone rushed over to take his seat behind the desk. He rested his good arm on a stack of papers, hid his injured hand in his lap, then called out in a surly voice, "Send him in."

Lyon strolled into the room with a bottle of brandy tucked under his arm. He placed the gift on the desk, then sat down in a leather chair in front of Rhone. After casually propping his feet on the desktop, he said, "You look like hell."

Rhone shrugged. "You never were a diplomat," he remarked. "What's the brandy for?"

"Our wager," Lyon reminded him.

"Oh, yes. Princess Christina," Rhone grinned. "She never did answer any of your questions, did she?"

"It doesn't matter. I've already found out quite enough about her. She was raised somewhere in France, or thereabouts," he stated. "There are a few little nagging inconsistences, but I'll have them worked out in short time."

"Why the interest, Lyon?"

"I'm not sure anymore. In the beginning I thought it was just curiosity, but now-"

"In the beginning. Lyon, you sound as though you'd known the woman for months."

Lyon shrugged. He reached over to the sideboard, extracted two glasses, and poured each of them a drink. Lyon waited until Rhone was in the process of swallowing a hefty portion before asking his question. "How's the hand, Jack?"

Needless to say, Lyon was immensely satisfied with his friend's reaction. Rhone started choking and coughing and trying to effect a denial all at the same time. It was laughable. Damning, too, Lyon thought with a sigh.

He waited until his friend had regained some control before speaking again. "Why didn't you tell me you were in such financial trouble? Why didn't you come to me?"

"Financial trouble? I don't know what you're talking about," Rhone protested. It was a weak lie. "Hell," he muttered. "It's always been impossible to lie to you."

"Have you lost your mind? Do you have a passion to live in Newgate prison, Rhone? You know it's only a matter of time before you're found out."

" Lyon, let me explain," Rhone stammered. "My father has lost everything. I've used my own estates, put them up as promise against the rest of the notes, but…"

"You and your father are free of debt as of yesterday eve," Lyon said. "Get angry and then get over it, Rhone," Lyon demanded, his voice edged with steel. "I paid off the moneylenders. In your name, by the way."

"How dare you involve-" Rhone bellowed. His face was flushed a bright red.

"Someone sure as hell had to intervene," Lyon announced. "Your father means as much to me as he does to you, Rhone. God only knows the number of times he put himself in front of my father to protect me when I was young."

Rhone nodded. Some of the fight went out of him. "I'll pay you back, Lyon, just as soon-"

"You will not pay me back," Lyon roared. He was suddenly furious with his friend. He took a deep, settling breath before continuing. "Do you remember what I was like when Lettie died?" he asked.

Rhone was surprised by the change in topic. He slowly nodded. "I remember."

"You stood by me then, Rhone. You're the only one who knows about James. Have I ever asked to pay you back for your friendship?"

"Of course not. I would have been insulted."

A long moment stretched between the two men. Then Rhone actually grinned. "May I at least tell my father that you-"

"No," Lyon interrupted, his voice soft. "I don't want him to realize I know what happened to him. Let him think his son is the only one who knows, that you came to his assistance."

"But Lyon, surely-"

"Let it rest, Rhone. Your father is a proud man. Don't take that away from him."

Rhone nodded again. "Tell me what you know about my father's problems."

"I recognized you at Baker's, of course," Lyon began, smiling over the start that statement gave his friend. "It was foolish of you to-"

"You weren't supposed to be there," Rhone muttered. "Why did you attend his party? You can't stand Baker any more than I can."

Lyon chuckled. "The most carefully laid plans," he drawled. "For all his good points, your father is still a little naive, isn't he, Rhone? Baker and his cohorts took advantage, of course. Baker would have been the one to set up the games. Let's see if I have this straight. He would have included Buckley, Stanton, and Wellingham in the farce, too. They're all bastards. Did I get all the names, Rhone?"

His friend was astonished. "How did you learn all this?"

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't know about their little club? Your father isn't the only one to fall victim to their scheme."

"Does everyone know?"

"No," Lyon answered. "There isn't a hint of a scandal about your father. I would have heard of it."

"You've been out of circulation, Lyon. How can you be so sure?"

Lyon gave Rhone a look of exasperation. "With my line of work, you can seriously ask me that question?"

Rhone grinned. "I thought you might have gotten a little rusty," he said. "Father is still hiding in his country home. He's so ashamed of his own gullibility he won't show his face. He'll be relieved to learn no one is the wiser."

"Yes, he can come out of hiding now. And you can give up this foolish plan of yours. You'll eventually get caught."

"You'd never turn me in." Rhone 's voice was filled with conviction.

"No, I wouldn't," Lyon acknowledged. "How was it done, Rhone? Did Baker mark the cards?"

"Yes. They are all blatant cheats, which of course is all the more humiliating for my father. He's feeling duped."

"He was duped," Lyon said. "Will you give it up, Rhone?"

Rhone let out a harsh groan. "Damn it all, Lyon. I'm itching to get even."

Lyon took a drink of his brandy. "Ah," he drawled. "Now you've touched on my area of expertise. Perhaps, Rhone, a game of chance is what is needed."

Lyon grinned when Rhone finally caught his meaning. "You mean to give them a dose of their own medicine, to cheat the cheaters?"

"It would be easy enough to accomplish."

Rhone slapped his hand on the tabletop, then let out a groan. "I keep forgetting about this injury," he excused. "Count me in, Lyon. I'll leave the details to you. As you just admitted, you're better versed in trickery than I am."

Lyon laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Another knock sounded at the door, interrupting their conversation. "Now what is it?" Rhone shouted.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my lord, but Princess Christina is here to see you," the servant shouted back.

The announcement gave Rhone a start. Lyon didn't look too happy with the news either. He glared at Rhone. "Have you been after Christina, Rhone? Did you invite her here?"

"No," Rhone answered. "My charms must have impressed her after all, Lyon." He grinned when Lyon 's scowl increased. "So it is as I guessed. You're more than mildly interested in our little Princess."

"She isn't our little Princess," Lyon snapped. "She belongs to me. Understood?"

Rhone nodded. "I was only jesting," he said with a sigh. "Send her in," he bellowed to his servant.

Lyon didn't move from his position. Christina hurried into the library as soon as the door was opened for her. She spotted Lyon immediately and came to an abrupt stop. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt your conference, sir. I shall come back later, Rhone."

Christina frowned at Lyon, turned, and started back out the door.

Lyon let out a long, controlled sigh. He carefully put his glass down on the desk, then stood up. Christina saw him out of the corner of her eye. She ignored Rhone 's pleas for her to stay and continued to move toward the front door.

Lyon trapped her just as she reached for the handle. His hands settled on the door on either side of Christina's face. Her back touched his chest. Lyon smiled when he saw how rigid her shoulders became. "I really must insist you stay," he whispered against her ear.

A tremor of warmth shook Christina. She slowly edged around until she was facing Lyon. "And I really must insist upon leaving, sir," she whispered.

She pushed one hand against his chest, hoping to dislodge him.

He didn't budge. He gave her a rascal's grin, then leaned down and kissed her.

Rhone 's deep chuckle interrupted his desire to continue.

Christina immediately blushed over the intimacy. Didn't the man realize he wasn't supposed to show affection in front of others? She guessed he didn't. Lyon winked at her before grabbing hold of her hand and dragging her back inside the library.

She was wearing a light blue gown. Lyon deliberately checked to see if she'd remembered to put her shoes on. He wasn't disappointed to see she had.

Rhone hurried back to his chair. He hid his bandaged arm in his lap.

Christina refused to sit down. She stood beside Lyon, trying to ignore him altogether. He put his booted feet back up on the edge of Rhone 's desk and reached for his glass. She gave him a disgruntled look. If the man was any more relaxed, he'd fall asleep.

It soon became awkward. Rhone was looking at her expectantly. Christina clutched the blue receptacle in her left hand and kept trying to pull her other hand out of Lyon 's hold. He'd forgotten to let go of her.

"Was there something in particular you wished to speak to me about?" Rhone prodded gently. He tried to put Christina at ease. The poor woman looked terribly worried.

"I'd hoped to find you alone," Christina announced. She gave Lyon a meaningful look. "Were you about to take your leave, Lyon?"

"No."

His abrupt answer was given in such a cheerful voice, Christina smiled. "I would like to speak to Rhone in private, if you don't mind."

"Ah, sweet, but I do mind," Lyon drawled out. He increased his grip on her hand, then suddenly jerked her off balance.

She landed right where he wanted her. Christina immediately started to struggle out of his lap. Lyon circled her waist with one arm, anchoring her to him.

Rhone was amazed. He'd never seen Lyon act in such a spontaneous manner. To show such open possessiveness was certainly out of character. "Princess Christina? You may speak freely in front of Lyon," Rhone advised.

"I may?" Christina asked. "Then he knows?"

When Christina hesitated, Rhone announced, " Lyon is privy to all my secrets, my dear. Now what is it you wanted to say to me?"

"Well, I was wondering, sir, how you're feeling."

Rhone blinked several times. "Why, I'm feeling very well," he replied awkwardly. "That is all you wanted to ask me?"

The two of them were dancing around the real issue, to Lyon 's way of thinking. " Rhone, Christina wants to know how your injury is doing. Isn't that right, Christina?"

"Oh, then you do know?" Christina asked, turning to look at Lyon.

"You know?" Rhone 's voice cracked.

"She knows," Lyon confirmed, chuckling over the flabbergasted look on Rhone 's face.

"Well, hell, who doesn't know?"

"You sound pathetic," Lyon told his friend.

"It was the color of your eyes, Rhone," Christina explained, giving him her attention again. "They're an unusual shade of green, and very easy to remember." She paused to give him a sympathetic look. "And you did look right at me. I really didn't mean to recognize you. It just happened," she ended with a delicate shrug.

"Are we putting all our cards on the table?" Rhone asked, leaning forward to give Christina an intent look.

"I don't understand," Christina said. "I don't have any cards with me."

"Christina takes everything you say in its literal sense, Rhone. It's a trait guaranteed to make you daft. Believe me, I know."

"That is most uncharitable of you, Lyon," Christina announced, glaring at him. "I don't know what you mean when you say I'm literal. Is it yet another insult I should take exception to, perchance?"

" Rhone is asking you if he may speak freely," Lyon told Christina. "Hell, I feel like an interpreter."

"Of course you may speak freely to me," Christina announced. "No one's holding a knife to your neck, Rhone. I've some medicine with me. I'd like to tend your injury, Rhone. You probably haven't had proper care."

"I couldn't very well call upon my physician, now could I?" Rhone said.

"Oh, no, you'd be found out," Christina said. She scooted off Lyon 's lap and went to Rhone 's side. Rhone didn't protest when she began to unwrap his badly fashioned bandage.

Both men watched as Christina opened a small jar of horrid-smelling salve. "My God, what's in there? Dead leaves?"

"Yes," Christina answered. "Among other things."

"I was jesting," Rhone said.

"I wasn't."

"The smell will keep me hidden," Rhone muttered. "What else is in there?" he asked, taking another sniff of the foul medicine.

"You don't want to know," Christina answered.

"It's best not to ask Christina questions, Rhone. The answers will only confuse you."

Rhone took Lyon 's advice. He watched Christina pat a large amount of the brown-colored salve on the cut, then rewrap the arm. "You have a nice scent, Rhone. Of course, the salve will soon remove it."

"I have a nice scent?" Rhone looked as though he'd just been handed England 's crown. He thought he should return her compliment. "You smell like flowers," he told her, then promptly laughed over saying such a thing. It was the truth, but certainly ungentlemanly of him to comment upon. "You're the one with the unusual eyes, Christina. They're the most wonderful color of blue."

"That's quite enough," Lyon interjected. "Christina, hurry up and finish your task."

"Why?" Christina asked.

"He doesn't want you standing so close to me," Rhone explained.

"Give it up, Rhone." Lyon 's voice had turned hard. "You aren't going to pursue Christina, so you can save your charms for someone else."

"Lady Diana would like your charms very much, Rhone," Christina interjected. She smiled at the reaction her comment caused in both men. Rhone looked perplexed. Lyon looked appalled. " Lyon, you don't own me. It is therefore unreasonable of you to dictate to other gentlemen. If I wanted Rhone 's attention, I would let him know it."

"Why do you suggest Lyon 's sister would like my attention?" Rhone asked. He was highly curious about her strange remark.

Christina replaced the jar in her receptacle before answering. "You English are so narrow-minded in your thinking sometimes. It's obvious Lady Diana is taken with you, Rhone. You only have to look at her to see the adoration in her eyes. And if you count the way you look after her, why, you'd realize you were meant for each other."

"Oh, God." It was Lyon who groaned out the words.

Both Christina and Rhone ignored him. "How can you be so certain?" Rhone asked. "You only met her once, and you couldn't have spent more than fifteen minutes with her. No, I think you're imagining this infatuation. Diana's just a child, Christina."

"Believe what you will," Christina answered. "What will happen will happen."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rhone looked confused again. Lyon shook his head. It was good to know he wasn't the only one dimwitted around Christina. "Destiny, Rhone," Lyon interjected.

"I really must leave now. Aunt Patricia believes I'm resting in my room," she confessed. "You will have to share my confidence, Rhone. Or should I call you Jack now?"

"No."

"I was only jesting, sir. Do not be so distressed," Christina said.

Rhone sighed. He reached out to take hold of Christina's hand, thinking to keep her by his side while he thanked her properly for tending his injury.

Christina moved so quickly Rhone was left reaching for air. Before he could blink, she was standing next to Lyon 's chair again.

Lyon was just as surprised. He was arrogantly pleased, too, for even though Christina probably wasn't aware of what she'd done, she had instinctively moved back to him. There was some kind of little victory in that choice, wasn't there?

"Christina, if you recognized me, why didn't you tell Baker and the others?" Rhone asked.

She took exception to his question. "They'll have to find out on their own," she said. "I would never break a confidence, Rhone."

"But I didn't ask you to keep this confidence," Rhone stammered.

"Don't try to understand her, Rhone. It will be your undoing," Lyon advised with a grin.

"Then please answer me this," Rhone asked. "Did you see who threw the knife at me?"

"No, Rhone. In truth, I was too frightened to look behind me. If Lyon hadn't been there to protect me, I think I would have swooned."

Lyon patted her hand. "The pistol wasn't loaded," Rhone protested. "Did you think I'd actually hurt someone?"

Lyon prayed for patience. "I cannot believe you set out to rob Baker with an empty pistol."

"Why would you use an empty weapon?" Christina asked.

"I wanted to scare them, not kill them," Rhone muttered. "Will you two quit looking at me like that? The plan did work, I might remind you."

"You just did remind us," Christina announced.

" Lyon, will you be able to find out who injured me?" Rhone asked.

"Eventually."

Christina frowned. Lyon sounded too certain. "Why does it matter?"

" Lyon likes a good puzzle," Rhone announced. "As I recall, Baker's balcony is a good fifty feet from the terrace below. Whoever it was had to be-"

"Twenty feet, Rhone," Lyon interjected. "And the balcony couldn't be scaled. The railing was too weak."

"Then whoever it was must have been hiding behind you… somewhere," Rhone said with a shrug. "No, that doesn't make sense. Well, thank God he had a lousy aim."

"Why do you say that?" Christina asked.

"Because he didn't kill me."

"Oh, I think his aim was quite on target," she announced. "If he'd wanted to kill you, I think he might have. Perhaps he meant to make you drop your weapon."

Christina suddenly realized she was sounding too sure of herself. Lyon was staring at her with a strange, intent expression on his face. "It was just a possibility I was giving you," she added quickly. "I could be wrong, of course. His aim could have been faulty."

"Why did you come over here to tend Rhone 's injury?" Lyon asked.

"Yes, why did you?" Rhone asked also.

"Now I am insulted," Christina announced. "You were hurt, and I only thought to help you."

"That was your only motive?" Lyon asked.

"Well, there was another reason as well," Christina admitted. She walked over to the door before explaining. "Didn't you tell me you were Lyon 's only friend?"

"I might have made that remark," Rhone admitted.

"You did," Christina said. "I never forget anything," she boasted. "And it seemed to me that Lyon is a man in need of friends. I shall continue to keep your secret, Rhone, and you must promise not to tell anyone I came to see you. The Countess would be upset."

"He doesn't suit either?" Lyon asked, sounding vastly amused.

"I don't suit?" Rhone asked. "Suit what?"

Christina ignored the question and started out the doorway.

"Christina."

Lyon 's soft voice stopped her. "Yes, Lyon?"

"I didn't promise."

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Oh, but you'd never… you don't even like the Countess. You wouldn't bother to tell her…"

"I'm seeing you home, love."

"I'm not your love."

"Yes, you are."

"I really prefer to walk."

" Rhone, what do you think the Countess will say when I inform her that her niece is strolling around town, paying calls on-"

"You don't fight with an ounce of dignity, Lyon. It's a sorry trait."

"I've never fought fair."

Her sigh of defeat echoed throughout the library. "I shall wait for you in the hall, you despicable man." Christina slammed the door shut to emphasize her irritation.

"She isn't at all what she appears to be," Rhone remarked. "She called us English, Lyon, as if we were foreigners. Doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Nothing Christina says makes sense, unless you remember she wasn't raised here." He stood up, stretched to his full height, and started for the door. "Enjoy the brandy, Rhone, while I go back into battle."

" Battle? What are you talking about?"

"Not what, Rhone. Who. Christina, to be exact."

Rhone 's laughter followed Lyon out the door. Christina was standing next to the front door. Her arms were folded across her chest. She wasn't trying to hide her irritation.

"Ready, Christina?"

"No. I hate carriages, Lyon. Please let me walk home. It's only a few short streets away from here."

"Of course you hate carriages," Lyon said. His voice was filled with amusement. "Now, why didn't I realize that sooner, I wonder?" he asked as he took hold of her elbow. He half led, half dragged Christina to his vehicle. Once they were seated across from each other, Lyon asked, "Are carriages as much a distraction as saddles, perchance?"

"Oh, no," Christina answered. "I don't like being confined like this. It's suffocating. You weren't going to tell the Countess I left without permission, were you, Lyon?"

"No," he admitted. "Are you afraid of the Countess, Christina?"

"I'm not afraid of her," Christina said. "It's just that she is my only family now, and I don't like to upset her."

"Were you born in France, Christina?" Lyon asked. He leaned forward to take hold of her hands.

His voice coached, his smile soothed. Christina wasn't fooled for a moment. She knew he thought to catch her off guard. "When your mind is set on finding something out, you really don't give up, do you, Lyon?"

"That's about right, my dear."

"You're shameful," Christina confessed. "Quit smiling. I've insulted you, haven't I?"

"Were you born in France?"

"Yes," she lied. "Now, are you satisfied? Will you quit your endless questions, please?"

"Why does it bother you to be questioned about your past?" Lyon asked.

"I merely try to protect my privacy," she answered.

"Did you live with your mother?"

He was like a dog after a meaty bone, Christina decided. And he wasn't going to let up. It was time to soothe his curiosity. "A very kind couple by the name of Summerton raised me. They were English but enjoyed traveling. I've been all over the world, Lyon. Mr. Summerton preferred to speak French, and I'm more comfortable with that language."

The tension slowly ebbed away from her shoulders. She could tell by Lyon 's sympathetic expression that he believed her. "The Countess can be difficult, as you well know. She had a falling out with the Summertons and refuses to let me speak of them. She wants everyone to think I was raised by her, I suppose. Lying is very difficult for me," she added with a straight face. "Since Aunt Patricia won't let me tell the truth, and I'm not any good telling lies, I decided it would be best to say nothing at all about my past. There, are you satisfied?"

Lyon leaned back against the upholstery. He nodded, obviously satisfied with her confession. "How did you meet up with these Summertons?"

"They were dear friends of my mother," Christina said. She gave him another smile. "When I turned two years of age, my mother took ill. She gave me to the Summertons because she trusted them, you see. My mother didn't want her sister, the Countess, to become my guardian. And the Summertons weren't able to have children."

"Your mother was a shrewd woman," Lyon remarked. "The old bat would have ruined you, Christina."

"Oh, my, did Elbert call my aunt an old bat in front of you? I really must have another firm talk with him. He seems to have taken an extreme dislike to her."

"Love, everyone dislikes your aunt."

"Are you finished with your questions now?" Christina asked.

"Where did you hear the sound of lions, Christina, and where did you see buffaloes?"

The man had the memory of a child given the promise of candy. He didn't forget anything. "I did spend a good deal of time in France, because of Mr. Summerton's work, but he was very devoted to his wife-and to me, for he did think of me as his daughter. And so he took both of us with him when he went on his trips. Lyon, I really don't want to answer any more of your questions."

"Just one more, Christina. Will you let me escort you to Creston's ball on Saturday? It will be very proper. Diana will be with us."

"You know my aunt won't allow it," Christina protested.

The carriage came to a halt in front of Christina's home. Lyon opened the door, dismounted, and turned to lift Christina to the ground. He held her a bit longer than necessary, but Christina didn't take exception. "Simply tell your aunt that arrangements have already been made. I'll call for you at nine."

"I do suppose it will be all right. Aunt Patricia need never know. She's going to the country to visit a sick friend. If I don't mention the ball, I really won't have to lie. It isn't quite the same if the Countess believes I mean to stay home, is it? Or is it still a lie by deliberate silence, I wonder."

Lyon smiled. "You really do have trouble telling a lie, don't you, sweet? It is a noble trait," he added.

Heaven help her, she really mustn't laugh. Lyon would certainly grow suspicious then. "Yes, it is difficult for me," she confessed.

"You don't know how it pleases me to find a woman with such high standards, Christina."

"Thank you, Lyon. May I put a question to you now?"

Elbert opened the door just then. Christina became distracted. She smiled at the butler, then waved him inside. "I shall see the door closed, Elbert. Thank you."

Lyon patiently waited until Christina turned back to him. "Your question?" he gently prodded.

"Oh, yes," Christina said. "First of all, I would like to ask you if you will be attending Sir Hunt's party Thursday evening."

"Are you going?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall be there."

"There is one more question, please."

"Yes?" Lyon asked, smiling. Christina was acting terribly shy all of a sudden. A faint blush covered her cheeks, and she couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Will you marry me, Lyon? For just a little while?"

"What?"

He really hadn't meant to shout, but the woman did say the damnedest things. He couldn't have heard her correctly. Marriage? For just a while? No, he had misunderstood. "What did you say?" he asked again, calming his voice.

"Will you marry me? Think about it, Lyon, and do let me know. Good day, sir."

The door closed before the Marquess of Lyonwood could summon a reaction.