Page 3 of 21 Days with the Lyon

“W hat the devil!”

Bianca jumped at Mr. Filliol’s harsh exclamation. She might have tried to calm Astra, but the coach jerked into motion, causing her to fall slightly backward against the squabs. By the time she righted herself, Astra had Mr. Filliol flattened against the back of his own seat.

“Miss, might you consider calling off your dog before he takes a bite out of me?”

“Astra, come,” Bianca said.

Astra ignored her and growled deeper in her throat.

“ Astra .” Bianca found the scruff of the dog’s neck and pulled her away from Mr. Filliol. “Sit,” she said. Astra sat but made one last small growl of warning.

“I assumed I might be in danger at some point,” he said. “I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Astra doesn’t like strangers.” The darkness in the coach made it easier for her to speak to him. Bianca tended to be shy around people she didn’t know, especially men. But she couldn’t see his face very well with the curtains closed and the lamps not burning. That seemed to make her less self-conscious.

“Perhaps we should have been introduced before I was locked into the chariot with her, then.”

“She won’t bite you. It might have been better if she did bite strangers. Then there would be no need for you. But she only barked at the last men who tried to abduct me.”

“I see. How did you get away, then?”

“My sister scared the abductors away.”

“I have absolutely no trouble imagining that,” he said.

She thought she could hear the smile in his voice. She wished she could see him better, as she wondered what he looked like when he smiled. He’d seemed very serious when they were introduced in the house. And yet Mrs. Dove-Lyon had not been wrong when she told Bianca he was handsome.

He was very handsome. He was so handsome that she hadn’t been able to look at him for more than a few seconds without lowering her gaze for fear her heated cheeks might burst into flame. She’d darted several looks at him while they stood in awkward silence outside the dining room. She’d noted his brown hair, dark in places and streaked with gold in others so that the overall effect was very pleasing. A section fell over his forehead and almost covered one eye. She’d felt her belly tighten when he raked it back with his hand, lifting the hair up and back in a stylish wave. His eyes seemed to be more than one color. She’d thought they were brown at first, but they seemed to have a great deal of green toward the center. Since she couldn’t exactly stare into his eyes without everyone taking notice and raising their eyebrows, she’d decide on their color later.

His nose was straight, his face a bit too thin, so that his cheekbones were somewhat prominent. He had nice lips—she hadn’t allowed herself to look at those too long. But she thought what made her the most lightheaded was his height and breadth. He was tall—taller than Kitty and taller than Papa. And his shoulders were wide and square. Standing beside him, she felt as though he could easily pick her up and toss her over his shoulder.

The thought was rather exciting.

The idea of marrying this man was exciting. In the years since her mother’s death, she hadn’t thought much about marriage except how to avoid being abducted and forced to marry. Now she remembered that when she’d been younger, she’d often thought about what her own marriage might be like, what her husband might be like. She had always dreamed of marrying a man who loved her. How could she not after years of seeing how much her own parents loved and cared for each other? Her father had wanted that for her as well, but in the end, something had to be sacrificed for her safety. The sacrifice had been love.

Today was the first day of her three weeks with Mr. Filliol. Somehow, at the end of those three weeks, she had to be brave enough to propose to him, and he had to say yes. If not, she’d be right back where she was before—hiding away from fortune hunters.

Before the coach left, Kitty had climbed inside with Astra and given Bianca stern instructions. “Be forward,” she had said. “You must flirt with him.”

“I don’t know how to flirt.”

“You’d better learn quickly, because you don’t have much time to make him want to marry you.”

Bianca had clasped her hands, twisting her fingers. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Be brave!” Kitty chided her. “Look at him.”

Bianca peered past Kitty’s shoulder and out the coach window at the handsome man inspecting the conveyance.

“You want him, don’t you?”

Bianca’s cheeks began to flame.

“Then make him want you. That shouldn’t be difficult.” Kitty’s voice turned bitter. “Every man who ever meets you wants you. Just bat your eyelashes and find a reason to fall into his arms. Then tilt your head up so he can kiss you.”

“I’ll try.”

Kitty had punched her in the arm—not hard, but not gently, either. “Papa is worried sick about you, Bianca. You had better do more than try.”

Then Kitty had scratched Astra’s head and stepped out of the chariot. The vehicle had felt so much larger suddenly—until Mr. Filliol stepped inside.

Bianca rubbed her arm and tried not to think about how long his legs were. She’d had to push hers to the side, so their feet didn’t become tangled. But no matter how much she shoved herself into a corner, his scent seemed to find her. She’d noticed it as soon as she met him, but now that they were enclosed together, it was more pronounced. The most delicious smell of bergamot and musk and oranges seemed to surround him. It must be his soap. She’d bought her father a similar fragrance one year for his birthday. She didn’t recall ever smelling it on him, though.

She had the urge to breathe deeply, even to lean over and press her nose into his chest. Instead, she tried to shallow her breathing. If she started sniffing him, he would think her completely daft.

“Do you have any other family at your country estate—Godwin Priory, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s the name. And the only family who live there are my father, my sister, and myself.”

“You don’t have any brothers?”

Bianca refrained from mentioning that if she had brothers, she wouldn’t need him. But, of course, any number of young men were on the Continent fighting in the war. As a former soldier himself, Mr. Filliol might have considered that option.

“There is only my sister and me.”

“And your mother?”

Bianca swallowed, surprised at the pain she still felt. “She died six years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” His tone held a genuine note of regret and sympathy. “I realize it is rude to pry, but if I’m to protect you, I need to know more about you.”

Bianca took a breath. Lord , there was that lovely scent again. How long until they were out of London, and she could open the drapes and perhaps the window? She needed fresh air so she might cease salivating over how wonderful he smelled.

“I understand. Ask any questions you feel necessary.”

“Tell me about the staff at Godwin Priory.”

Bianca told him about the staff who would be in residence, a small crew, as most of their servants had traveled to London with them. She felt as though she’d spoken for hours, but when she parted the curtains to see how far they had traveled, Mr. Filliol grabbed her hand. She felt a zing of pleasure, even though she wore gloves and could not actually feel his skin.

“Keep the curtains drawn. We don’t need anyone spotting you inside the coach.”

He held her hand a moment longer than was necessary, and Astra, who had been snoring on the floor, lifted her head and growled at the clasped hands. Mr. Filliol released her and leaned down to pat the dog’s head. “There now, Astra. I’m a friend.”

Astra licked him.

“Thank you. I like you too,” he said.

Bianca smiled. “You like dogs?”

“Of course. I grew up with dogs and was always sneaking one into my bed at night, despite the nanny’s dire warnings that I’d get fleas.”

“I used to do the same! Now my father has given up and pretends he doesn’t know Astra sleeps with me.”

“Do you have fleas?”

Bianca stifled a laugh. “No. You?”

“Just a few.”

She liked him. Oh, Lord. She hadn’t expected to like him so much.

“Tell me about your neighbors,” he said. His voice was steady and even. Bianca’s heart beat wildly, and she needed a moment to compose herself. Even then, when she began to speak of the families who lived near Godwin Priory, her voice quavered.

“And Astra?” he asked when she’d told him about every neighbor within three miles of the priory. “Does she protect you? You said earlier she doesn’t bite.”

“She barked and growled during the last abduction attempt, but she’s probably a bit too sweet and submissive to ever bite anyone.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Just because she is not aggressive doesn’t make her useless. Her barking alerted Kitty that something was wrong. There is nothing wrong with being shy and quiet.”

“Are we still talking about the dog?”

Bianca took a breath. She’d said too much, revealing one of her own insecurities. In a bid to change the subject, she yanked the carriage curtains open, revealing green fields on the side of the road. They were finally out of London.

He reached for the curtains again. “I thought I said—”

“I need some light, Mr. Filliol.” She lowered the window slightly. “And some air.”

He sat back, and a glance showed her a quick smile on his face. It was so quick, she thought she might have imagined it. Astra sat up and climbed onto the seat beside her to stick her nose close to the window. The dog was large enough that Bianca had to scoot over. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to sit beside her new protector. Kitty had said to be brave…

“I seem to be out of space,” she said. “If you don’t mind—”

“Stay right where you are.” Mr. Filliol lifted a hand. “I don’t want any hint of impropriety between us.”

“We’re alone in a chariot. How would anyone even know if I sat beside you?”

“Best not to risk it.”

Bianca sat back, trying to ignore Astra’s tail swishing in her face. So much for Kitty’s assumption that every man wanted her. The only thing this man wanted was to keep his distance from her. She looked out the window, trying to see if she recognized anything they passed so she might judge how much longer she’d be trapped with him.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Bianca raised her brows. “I beg your pardon. And don’t claim you need to know to protect me. My age can have no bearing on that.”

“I don’t know why you should not share it. You can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen.”

His wrong assumption didn’t surprise her. She knew she seemed younger than she was. So far he’d been asking all the questions. Now she saw an opportunity to ask a few of her own. “How old are you , sir?”

“Five and twenty,” he said without hesitation.

“And do you have any brothers?” she asked, echoing his earlier question, although from her perusal of Debrett’s , she knew he had three.

“Three, all older.” Again, his response was quick.

“What about sisters?”

“Five. Two older and three younger. The youngest is sixteen, only a little younger than you.”

The last thing she needed was his seeing her as his little sister. “Not that you need to know this, but I am two and twenty—closer in age to you than your sister.” She glanced at him, interested in his reaction. His eyes, which she could now see were definitely brown with some green, widened.

“Twenty-two? Why the devil aren’t you married yet?”

Bianca folded her arms across her chest, which was something Kitty always did when she wanted to intimidate someone. “Why, because at two and twenty I am a spinster?”

“I didn’t say that, and I didn’t even think it. I just—” He gestured to her. “You’re beautiful. I can’t believe you aren’t yet married.”

Bianca wished she had Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s veil. She felt her cheeks heat and knew they were bright crimson.

“I apologize,” he said, obviously interpreting her blushes as discomfort, when in reality she was pleased at his compliment.

“There’s a simple explanation,” she said, turning her head toward the window so she might cool her overheated skin. She got a tail in her eye for her trouble. “My mother was ill for several years, years during which my sister should have gone to London and had her first Season. The doctors kept saying she would be well soon, and my parents kept putting off Kitty’s debut. And then it was clear our mother would not get well. When I was sixteen, she passed away. We were all in shock.” Even now her voice was choked.

“And of course you were in mourning,” he said.

She nodded, grateful that he spoke so she could have a moment to compose herself. Finally, she swallowed. “My father loved my mother very much. And my sister was very close with her. We were all completely bereft at her death. No one thought about a Season or the Marriage Mart.”

“You had enough to do making it through one day after another.”

Bianca’s gaze slid to his face. “Yes. Exactly,” she said. His expression was stoic, but no one who hadn’t experienced great loss could have spoken those words with the feeling he had.

He understood loss. He knew loss as deeply as she did. Again, she felt a connection to him, felt that beneath his sometimes gruff exterior, there was a man she would very much like to know.

“My sister is six and twenty—older than you. If she were a man, she’d be in her prime, but as a woman she’s considered on the shelf. And yet my father wanted to give her a chance to marry. He thought, despite her age, she might have success.”

“I suppose her dowry didn’t hurt either.”

“We are both fortunate to have large dowries.”

“And yet you are the one pursued.”

Bianca looked down at her traveling coat, plucking at a loose thread. “Kitty took my mother’s death very hard. She wasn’t always like…like you saw her. She changed after Mama…”

“But her inability to secure a match meant you were left waiting, and now you are a target for every fortune hunter in Town.”

“And that is why we need you.”

“Well, you have me, at least for the next twenty days. What will you do after that?”

Bianca couldn’t answer that hopefully twenty days would turn into forty then eighty then the rest of their lives. She didn’t want to consider the alternative if she failed to convince him to marry her.

Day Two

Godwin Priory amazed him. He’d had a brief glimpse of it when they arrived the evening prior, and he’d practically goggled as the chariot drove through the Barbican tower, across the moat, and stopped before a T-shaped structure of stone made almost white by age.

Theo was the son of an earl. He had grown up in a Tudor-style country house with a garden designed by Capability Brown. He had been to Windsor Castle and Kensington Palace. Theo was not easily impressed.

But Godwin Priory had impressed him and continued to do so. He’d risen early to get the lay of the land, as they said in the army. If he was to protect Miss Featherswallow, he needed to know the house inside and out. First thing in the morning, he’d found the housekeeper, a stern-faced woman of middle years called Mrs. Port, and asked her for a tour. She obliged, taking him through the public rooms as well as those the family used. She didn’t take him into Miss Featherswallow’s bedchamber or those of her father or sister, but she did point them out.

The building had a very medieval feel to it, with stone walls, tapestries, and large fireplaces. Theo saw the improvements that had been made to modernize the house. Larger windows to add light had been installed and carpets, plaster, and draperies had been added to increase the warmth of the place.

By the time he headed outdoors to find the steward, Theo still hadn’t seen any sign of Miss Featherswallow. He didn’t begrudge her a few hours’ extra sleep. In fact, this was the first time in months that he’d voluntarily risen before noon. The morning mist was just rising from the land when Theo stepped onto the gravel drive. He turned and looked back at the structure, running his gaze from the reddish-brown tiled roof to the flowering shrubs at the base.

He’d been informed that the steward, a Mr. Tyler, was likely to be at the watermill. Theo made his way past the barn and a path that led to herb gardens to the mill, where male voices could be heard in discussion.

Theo halted abruptly when he heard a female voice among them. What the devil? He stepped inside and, when his eyes adjusted to the light, spotted no other than Miss Featherswallow pointing at the water wheel and giving the men orders. “Just like that,” she said, voice tinged with a confidence he hadn’t heard from her before. “That’s the way.”

Theo glanced down at the man she was encouraging. He was in the water, clearing some obstruction from the path of the wheel. As Theo watched, the wheel began to turn and the men present cheered. Miss Featherswallow smiled, and it was with that luminous smile on her face that she turned and spotted him.

For a moment, Theo forgot where he was and even who he was. She was absolutely stunning when she smiled like that. He had meant to say something, but his head completely emptied of thoughts, and he stared at her like a simpleton.

“Mr. Filliol, good morning,” she said, breaking the silence. “Have you met Mr. Tyler, Mr. Jonas, and Mr. Brown yet?”

Theo dragged his eyes from her face and forced himself to look at the men. “I have not. Good day, sirs.”

They all muttered good mornings.

“As Miss Featherswallow has no doubt told you, I am here for the next three weeks as her protector. Mr. Tyler, I was told you might give me a tour of the property.”

A man with salt-and-pepper hair and wearing a brown coat stepped forward. “I would be happy to do so, sir.” He glanced at Miss Featherswallow. “Excuse my impertinence, miss, but why do you need a protector?”

Her cheeks bloomed pink, and the shyness Theo was used to associating with her was back in full force. She looked down at her feet. “I have had a bit of a problem with overeager suitors.”

Theo saw no reason to paper over the truth. If these men worked for her father, they needed to be informed about the dangers to their mistress. “It’s more than merely a problem,” he said. “Miss Featherswallow has been the subject of three abduction attempts by fortune hunters.”

The men all exclaimed angrily, saying exactly what Theo had wanted—they expressed outrage first, then vowed that no man would get within a mile of her here at Godwin Priory.

“I’ll need your vigilance,” Theo said. “If you see anyone about who does not belong, you should report him or her to me immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” the men chorused.

“Mr. Tyler, might I impose upon you to give me a tour of the property now? I’d like to be familiar with it.”

“Could that wait until a little later, Mr. Tyler?” Miss Featherswallow asked.

Theo frowned. He had wanted to attend to the task as soon as possible.

“I’d like a word with Mr. Filliol.”

“Of course, miss,” the steward said. “We’ll finish with the mill.”

“Mr. Filliol?” Miss Featherswallow arched her brows and walked away, a clear indication Theo should follow. With a sigh, he did so, stepping out into the soft gold of the morning light. “Would you walk with me, Mr. Filliol?”

“Of course.” Theo noted that she’d exchanged the expensive dress she wore for traveling yesterday for a simple pale-yellow dress of some sort of sturdy material. She’d draped a brown shawl loosely around her but wore no hat, probably because she had left the house before she had need of one. She wore sturdy boots—at least, what he could see of them looked sturdy enough—but no gloves. She looked every bit the quintessential daughter of a country landowner.

She led him back toward the house but turned onto a gravel path rather than return inside. “Is that the herb garden?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. My mother has a similar one at our country home.”

She didn’t respond, and he peered at her more closely. Her lips were in a tight line, her brow low. “Are you angry?”

“Why should I be angry?”

Theo knew what that meant.

“Was it something I did?”

She gave him a sharp sidelong look, which answered that question. They walked on in silence. Theo supposed he was expected to know his transgression, but he had no idea. This was not the sort of thing he wanted to be dealing with before noon. He could have cheerfully strangled Bessie Dove-Lyon for doing this to him. Right now he could be in London. He could be…

What? Wallowing in self-pity? Gambling away more money he didn’t have? Drinking himself into a stupor? None of that had lightened the pain or made his past failures easier to bear. At least at Godwin Priory he was not staring at the same buildings, the same streets, the same four walls of his flat.

“In the future,” Miss Featherswallow said, turning to face him, “I would appreciate it if you kept my secrets just that—secret.”

Theo looked at her face, wishing she would smile again. She looked so pretty when she smiled. She looked almost beautiful now in her anger. This tempestuous mood suited her much better than the lowered lashes and frequent blushes he had become used to.

“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded.

Theo realized he’d been staring at her. “My apologies. What secret have I revealed?” He wasn’t aware that he knew any of her secrets.

She scowled. “You told Mr. Tyler and the others about the abduction attempts.”

“That was for your safety. Your father’s staff need to know what has been happening to protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected here.” Her shawl drooped as she put her hands on her hips. “I left London for the countryside because I am safe here.”

“The fortune hunters after you are just as capable of trying to abduct you here as they are in London. Otherwise, why would your father need me here?”

She opened her mouth to reply then closed it again, obviously rethinking whatever she was about to say. Finally, she hitched the shawl back on her shoulders. “Mr. Tyler can take you around the property, but I could tell you a bit of the history, if you’d like.”

Theo couldn’t think of anything more tedious than a history lesson, but he found himself saying, “I’d like that.” For some reason, he wasn’t quite ready to part from Miss Featherswallow’s company. “The estate is quite impressive.”

She smiled, and there was that shot of desire again. Why must she be so alluring?

“You like it?”

“How could I not? From what I’ve seen so far, Godwin Priory is all but perfect.”

“I agree,” she said. “It really is my favorite place on earth.”

“That makes perfect sense. Tell me the history.”

“The priory was founded by Augustinian priests in the twelfth century,” she told him as they walked along the paths weaving through the garden. Theo could smell the strong scent of rosemary, even if he couldn’t identify which plant it came from. He thought he smelled other herbs as well, but they weren’t as easy for him to identify.

“The priory was originally the main building. The other sections were added later. One of the priests angered Henry III by traveling to France without permission. The Crown took the lands back, and they were later bestowed on one of my father’s ancestors for service to the king. Godwin Priory has been in the hands of the Featherswallows for almost five hundred years.”

“That’s quite a legacy.”

“And a responsibility.” She indicated the buildings nearby. “These structures are sturdy and have lasted the ages, but in order to keep them functional, we must maintain them vigilantly. The mill, for example, needs frequent repair. The barn”—she pointed to the structure on the western side of the property—“needs a new roof. I wanted to come back not just because it’s safer here, but because someone needs to be here to oversee the lands and approve Mr. Tyler’s expenditures.”

“And you’ve taken that responsibility on yourself?”

“I was the only one capable of doing so after my mother died. My father and my sister…” She trailed off. Theo saw the flash of grief on her face. He knew that look well. “I seemed the best person to take on the responsibility, and it has remained my burden, though I don’t see it as a burden at all. It’s beautiful here.”

Theo looked about. “Yes, it is. Your family is very fortunate.”

“You really do like it here, then?” she asked.

“I haven’t been here long, but I like what I’ve seen so far.”

“You wouldn’t mind spending more time here, then?”

“I’m sure the next nineteen days will be no hardship,” he said.

She nodded. “What if you were to stay longer than nineteen days? Would that be a hardship?” She blinked rapidly.

“Do you have something in your eye?”

“No. Why?”

“You are blinking rather quickly. To answer your question, my assignment was for twenty-one days. I do not intend on staying longer.”

“Of course. What if you had a reason to do so?”

“What reason?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” She began to walk again and then seemed to trip and fall toward him. He reached out and caught her arm, but she continued to fall so that he had to grab her with both arms. Instead of righting herself, she closed her eyes and tilted her head up. Theo looked down at her, wondering if she was ill or merely daft.

“Are you quite well?” he asked.

She opened her eyes. “Yes.” She closed her eyes again.

“Then what the devil are you doing?”