Page 4 of 21 Days with the Lyon

B ianca couldn’t very well tell him she was attempting to seduce him. She must be doing something wrong. But she’d followed Kitty’s instructions exactly. Kitty had said, “Just bat your eyelashes and find a reason to fall into his arms. Then tilt your head up so he can kiss you.”

She’d done all those things, and he hadn’t kissed her. Instead, he’d demanded to know what was wrong with her. Bianca jerked upright and out of his arms. She’d obviously made a muddle of her seduction. Either that or he wasn’t attracted to her.

She gave him a quick look, and he was staring at her as though she were mad. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks and wished she could crawl under the herbs and hide there for the next nineteen days. “I’d better go inside. I don’t have my hat, and the sun is quite harsh.”

He looked up at the sky, probably noticing, as she did, that the sun was barely above the horizon. But before he could argue with her or say anything further, she turned her back and hastened to the house. If she was fortunate, she wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day.

Maybe she could avoid him for the next nineteen days.

Day Four

Bianca realized halfway through the second day of avoiding Mr. Filliol that this couldn’t go on. Not only did it mean she was tiptoeing around her own house, but she was also making no progress toward securing him as a husband. After all, if he left in seventeen days, and she was still unmarried, she’d be right back where she’d been before. She wouldn’t be able to go to London with her family, she would constantly fear abduction, and she might be forced to marry a man she didn’t know simply because he’d ruined her by spiriting her away for an elopement.

Bianca refused to live her life afraid. She had to find a husband, and Mr. Filliol was her best chance right now. Yes, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had said she would make him marry her. But Bianca had hoped he would want to marry her. She wasn’t that awful, was she? And they had much in common. They both liked dogs and the countryside. He was easy to talk to and—how could she forget?—handsome.

As her maid helped her change for dinner, Bianca decided she had better determine exactly how awful Mr. Filliol found her once and for all. “The gold dress, Dickson.”

Her maid paused in shaking out a modest burnt-orange dress that Bianca often wore in the countryside. The gold outfit was quite fancy and more suited for Town or a dinner party. Bianca hadn’t even thought they should bring the dress, as most of the local gentry was in London for the Season. She didn’t expect to socialize much while at the priory. But the gold dress was her secret weapon. She knew she looked her best in it. The gold brought out the olive tones in her skin and made her brown eyes look almost tawny. If she were to look her best for Mr. Filliol, this was the dress to wear.

“The gold, miss?” Dickson asked.

“Yes. And can you style my hair in that twist you did for the theater last week? That looked very well.”

“Yes, miss, of course.”

An hour later, she was dressed, coiffed, and perfumed. She made her way down to the dining room and found herself alone. “Crosby?”

Crosby was the underbutler who had stayed behind in the countryside when the butler had gone to London with the family.

He appeared a moment later. “Yes, miss? I have instructed Cook to send up the first course.”

“Where is Mr. Filliol?”

“He has not appeared for dinner, miss.”

Bianca didn’t have to guess why. She’d been eating in her room. No doubt he’d decided to do so as well. Why hadn’t she considered this obstacle? Of course the man didn’t want to eat alone. She’d been too successful at avoiding him.

“Tell Cook I’m no longer hungry. I’ll go for a walk.” Bianca swept out of the dining room, her slippers shushing on the stone floors as she made her way to the door and stepped out into the warm evening. As they kept country hours and it was almost summer, the sky was still light. She could hear the chirp of insects and smell the sweet scent of jasmine wafting from the gazebo nearby.

Lifting her skirts, Bianca decided to walk to the gazebo and watch the sky darken and the stars come out. Cook would be furious with her, and she would absolutely need to apologize tomorrow. What a mess she had made of everything.

She reached the gazebo and leaned on the railing, studying the sky. She was so absorbed that she almost didn’t hear the crunch of boots on the gravel. By the time she whipped around, he was right behind her.

“Mr. Filliol!”

“What are you doing outside?” he demanded.

She might have taken issue with his tone if she hadn’t been made speechless by his appearance. His hair was mussed and falling rakishly over one eye, he had a day’s growth of beard on his jaw, and he was not dressed properly. He wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His coat, waistcoat, and cravat were missing so that the V at his throat opened enough for her to see a small slice of bronze flesh.

“You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself at night.”

She wanted to argue that it was hardly night, barely evening and not even dark, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

“I saw you out of my window. If I hadn’t, who knows what might have happened to you?”

Bianca looked about, seeing only the two of them. Did he really think she was in danger? He stepped closer, and she swallowed. If she were in any danger, it was from her body’s reaction to him.

She looked away from him, her eye catching the winking of the first few stars in the night sky. “Oh, look!” she said.

He turned and followed her outstretched hand. He said nothing for a moment, and they both watched as the sky turned a bit purple and the stars became more visible. “I remember looking up at the sky like this when I was a boy. My father told me the stars are always in the sky, even during the day, and I didn’t believe him.”

“It does seem fantastical. I’ve missed seeing the stars. I hardly see the sky at all in London.”

“I’ve missed it too.”

They exchanged a look, and Bianca had to remind herself to breathe. “I-I used to stargaze when I was young too.”

“Did you?”

“Kitty and I would take a blanket out and lie on it for hours looking for constellations.”

“I don’t know many constellations. I think I see the Big Bear.”

“Ursa Major? Yes, that’s it just there.” She tilted her head. “I think Ursa Minor is just above it.”

He moved closer to her. “Where?”

“There.” She pointed, then looked at him to see if he saw it. But he was looking at the sky, seemingly transfixed. She could so easily imagine dozens more nights like this one. She hadn’t expected to like this man’s company or find anything in common with him. But she did like him. She liked him very much.

He looked down at her and smiled, and Bianca knew she should say something. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t think clearly. “You are so handsome,” she said.

He blinked, and she realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud. She wanted to cover her mouth and flee, but her legs seemed rooted in place.

“Pardon?” he said.

Was it possible he hadn’t heard her, or was he just being polite?

He took a step back. He was being polite, of course. His reaction was more evidence he found her repulsive.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

“Miss Featherswallow—”

Bianca stretched out a hand. “I know what you will say. This relationship is purely professional. You are here to protect me, nothing more.” The evening seemed to have grown colder, and she shivered. “I’m sure you will then add that though I am perfectly lovely, you don’t feel that way about me. You see me as a sister to you, and you’ll thank me for the compliment. Well, you are not welcome.”

His brows went up.

Bianca took a breath and wrapped her arms about her middle. “I may have gone a bit too far there.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t about to say any of that.”

“Really?”

“Well, I probably should say the first part. This is a professional relationship, and I am your protector. That doesn’t mean I think of you as a sister. You’re quite beautiful—”

Bianca dropped her arms. “Then you do want to marry me?”

“—but we should—What?”

Bianca’s eyes widened in horror. What was the matter with her? “Nothing.”

“Marry you? Miss Featherswallow, I—”

“Bianca, please. If I’m to be rejected, at least call me Bianca .”

Mr. Filliol took a breath. “If I did anything to make you think I intended to propose marriage, I apologize. That was not my intent.”

She had ruined everything now. She might as well tell him the truth. “I am the one who was to propose marriage to you. I suppose I know your answer now.”

He stepped back again, raking a hand through his hair and pushing it away from his face. “I don’t… I… Why would you propose to me, Miss—Bianca? You don’t even know me.”

“Because I need a husband. Until I marry, I’ll be in constant danger of abduction and forced marriage by fortune hunters. My father said at least this way I’d have some choice.”

Mr. Filliol grasped her arm, his grip light and his hand warm. “Wait a moment. This was Bessie’s idea, wasn’t it? This is one of her matchmaking schemes.”

She had ruined everything now. Why couldn’t she have kept quiet and just enjoyed the stars with him?

She sighed, knowing she would have never been able to do it. She was never good at keeping secrets.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon did think you would make a suitable husband.”

“And how can I refuse when I owe her the moon and stars? I suppose if I refuse, she’ll have me thrown in the Thames with a brick tied about my neck.”

Bianca gasped. “I’m sure she wouldn’t do that!”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. And if I do marry you, then what?”

“I won’t have to worry about fortune hunters, and you…”

“Go on.”

“My father will pay off all your debts.”

His grip on her arm tightened. “Even I’m tempted by that offer.”

“You really do owe a great deal, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He released her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She hadn’t minded. She liked the feel of his hand on her. She wished it had been on her skin, not on her sleeve.

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and focused on her. “Is that what this is about, then?” He gestured to her dress. “Were you attempting to seduce me?”

Her cheeks burst into flame at his words, and she couldn’t seem to gain enough control of her tongue to respond. She made some sort of grunting, garbled noise. Since she was unable to form words, she shook her head.

“How did you plan to seduce me? Have you even ever kissed a man, Bianca?”

Her eyes widened.

“That look of shock is answer enough.” He blew out a breath. “I cannot believe your father and Bessie threw you in my path like this, thinking I would be the sort of scoundrel who either jumped at the first chance of marrying an heiress or took advantage of an innocent.”

“No one thought that of you,” she said, finally managing to make her mouth form words. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon said you didn’t like to be told what to do. She thought, given a couple of weeks, you might want to marry me. But I revealed everything after four days. I’ve made a complete wreck of the plan.”

“Thank God. I’d rather you be honest with me than plot in secret and behind my back.”

Bianca nodded. “In your position, I would feel the same. I should never have agreed to this plan. I suppose I was simply desperate to escape London and that stuffy townhouse. Not to mention, I really did not want to be abducted and dragged to Gretna Green. I should have never agreed to lie to you about the true reason for your accompanying me here.”

He closed his eyes. “When you put it that way, it’s hard to be angry with you, especially when you’ve done me a favor by bringing me here.”

“Have I?”

“If you hadn’t targeted me for this husband-hunting plot, I’d still be racking up debt at the Lyon’s Den and drinking myself senseless every night. I needed a change to snap me out of my melancholy.”

“Was melancholy the reason you drank and gambled too much?” Melancholy was something Bianca could understand. Having lost her mother a few years before, she had spent months and months feeling as though she were lying at the bottom of a dark pit with no way to climb out. Her father and sister had been in even deeper pits, and she’d watched them struggle, helpless to rescue them.

“Bianca—Miss Featherswallow—I am not the sort of man you should marry. You would regret it immediately. For your sake, it really is better if we keep our relationship professional. I am here to protect you, at least for the next seventeen or so days. I did commit to that, and I honor my commitments.”

“Of course, Mr. Filliol.” Bianca swallowed her disappointment. Why had she expected him to tell her anything about himself? She shouldn’t have asked. “Again, I do apologize if I intimated you were anything other than a perfect gentleman.”

“I’m hardly that, which is why I should apologize in advance.”

“Apologize? Whatever for?”

“For this.” He slid an arm about her waist and pulled her to him. Bianca’s breath whooshed out of her lungs and her heart hammered inside her chest.

“And this,” he said, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. Heat flooded from her cheeks to her chest to the tips of her toes.

“And, most especially, this .” His lips brushed over hers gently, and she realized, belatedly, he was kissing her. She thought she should be doing something with her lips but had no idea what that something might be. And then she wanted to hit herself, because this was her first kiss, and she was thinking too much and not simply experiencing it.

He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against hers with slightly more pressure. That simple act caused every single thought to leak out of her mind until there was nothing else in the world except this man’s lips, and the feel of his hand, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers. Bianca kissed him back, wrapping her arms about him, trying to pull him closer.

He made a low sound in his throat and pulled away. “Damn it.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Bianca put a hand to her cheek where it still burned from his touch. Or perhaps it burned from mortification. What had she been thinking? Why on earth would she yank him closer like some common hoyden?

“You did nothing wrong, Bianca—er, Miss Hollowsfeather.”

Bianca raised her brows. Perhaps she was not the only one out of sorts.

“I shouldn’t have done that. In fact, I had better escort you inside immediately, because if we keep standing out here, I might do it again.”

“Oh!” The evening seemed much warmer now. She was in no hurry to return inside. He offered his arm, though, and she felt obliged to accept it. Without another word, Mr. Filliol escorted her inside and to the stairs.

“Promise me you will go straight to your chamber and not leave again tonight.”

She nodded. “I promise.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She was half afraid he’d see exactly how much she wanted him to kiss her again if she did so.

“Goodnight.”

Bianca stumbled upstairs, feeling his gaze on her as she walked away.

Day Five

Theo stood and stared into the moat. He had always pictured moats as filled with green, slimy water and alligators. This moat was more of a small pond. The water was not exactly as fresh as that of a bubbling stream, but it was clear and cold, and he could see reeds and some sort of water flowers growing in patches along the shore and in the shallower parts of the structure. He wondered how many other men had stood at this moat under the blue sky and the warm English sun. Medieval priests? Brave knights in armor? Kings he’d read about in books?

He wondered if any of them had been as confused as he. He wondered if any of them had stood under an indigo sky, vowed not to kiss a beautiful woman, and done it anyway. Even now, after a night of tossing and turning in his bed, Theo couldn’t explain even to himself why he’d done it. He had not lied when he said he was no seducer of innocents.

Not that a kiss was a seduction, but it was a start. And his thoughts had not been exactly pure when he’d kissed Bianca Featherswallow. He’d wanted to do much more than kiss her, and would have when she returned the kiss if he hadn’t forced himself to let her go. Hell and damnation , it had never been so difficult to part with a woman. Under that darkening sky, he’d felt as though some invisible, magnetic force pulled him to her. He’d never felt that way before. He couldn’t pinpoint what had drawn him—the tone of her voice? The lovely curve of her cheek? Whatever it was, she had been nearly irresistible to him.

He hadn’t been able to resist one small kiss—that was all it was supposed to be. Except then he’d put his hand on her back and felt her slim but strong body beneath. He’d touched her skin, and the softness had been more temptation than he could resist.

And when she’d kissed him back…that was when the tentative connection between them snapped into place. He wanted her so fiercely in that moment that it took everything he had to stop from going any further. Thank God he had stopped, because if he hadn’t, he’d not only be a failure as a protector but a defiler of virgins.

Theo crouched down, lifted a small stone, and tossed it into the water. It landed with a plop, and the ripples from the disturbance made larger and larger concentric circles until they reached the center of the pond. A turtle crawled onto a rock, looking about as though annoyed at having his swim disturbed. The circles reminded Theo that every action had a reaction. His failure to protect Albion in Spain had started a ripple in his life whose wave he was still riding.

And now he was in Hampshire at this lovely old house with a woman who thought he could save her by marrying her. But Theo couldn’t even save himself. He had no intention of dragging anyone else down with him, most especially not the shy, lovely creature he’d kissed last night.

“There you are, Mr. Filliol.”

Speak of the devil.

He turned and immediately wished he hadn’t. Bianca looked more beautiful than ever in a vibrant green dress that matched the color of the lush grass growing near the pond. She wore a matching green hat, and her long brown hair had been pulled to one side so it cascaded over her shoulder in plump curls. She smiled, showing dimples he hadn’t noticed before. Theo blew out a breath and tried very hard not to imagine kissing those dimples.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” she said.

“I’m out of the habit of eating in the morning.”

She looked up at him then away, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “I hope you are not famished by the time we take tea.”

“I suppose that is up to you.”

She gave him a quick glance. “Pardon?”

“I’ve spent several days familiarizing myself with the property. Everything looks as it should, and I don’t see any immediate threats. You may have hired me under false pretenses, but that doesn’t mean I will not do my job.”

Her brows lowered. “Your job? There is no threat here.”

“You cannot be sure of that.”

“I have lived here all my life. I am quite sure. Look around you.”

He did just that, taking in the neat buildings behind them, the rippling moat, the cool breeze on the warm summer air. He had to admit, the picture was one of tranquility.

“We should not have lured you here on false pretenses. I do want to apologize for that. I should have apologized last night. I would not usually agree to such a scheme, but I was simply desperate to escape London. My head is clear now, and I am mortified at the way my father and I treated you.”

Theo stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from clenching them into fists. “It’s not your fault,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

“I said, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who is indebted to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. If I hadn’t gambled away every shilling I own and then some, I wouldn’t have been in this position either.”

“Paying off a debt is one thing. Marrying to pay it off is quite another. I don’t want a husband who only marries me for my money. I might as well resign myself to being abducted by one of the fortune hunters after me, then.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She looked about. “No fortune hunters here, Mr. Filliol.”

“Call me Theo.”

She smiled. “Really? Is that wise?”

“I don’t know, but I cannot keep calling you Miss Featherswallow. The surname ties my tongue in knots.”

“Very well. Shall we be friends, then?” She stuck out a gloved hand, and he looked at it, taking a moment to realize she wanted to shake hands.

Friends . He did not think of her as a friend. He’d never been friends with a woman, had never had any close friends…except Albion. And look what had happened to him.

Her hand dropped. “What is it?”

“I simply do not think I would make a very good friend, Miss—Bianca.”

She studied him, her eyes dark under her hat. “Does this have something to do with the reason you drank too much and gambled all of your money away?”

Every reason, but he would not confide those reasons in her. What did a sheltered woman like her know about what he’d suffered? “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep those reasons to myself.”

“That’s your right, of course. If you’ll excuse me.” She gave him a quick curtsey and began to walk away.

“Bianca, I should explain.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He did not intend to explain. And it was better that she walk away. Better that she understand they were to be merely professional acquaintances, nothing more. He was not fit to be a husband, and he needed to keep some distance from her, else he’d again be tempted to behave badly.

“That’s not necessary,” she said.

And he let her go, watching her walk away, feeling as though he could breathe again now that she was not so near. He bent and looked for a smooth, flat stone. Finding one, he dug it out and skipped it across the water, pleased to see he hadn’t lost this skill from his childhood. The turtle on the far side of the moat dove off the rock and under the water, and Theo watched as the last ripples from the stone and the turtle disappeared.

Coward .

“Stubble it,” he muttered, aware he was speaking to himself.

You like her, and that terrifies you.

Theo blew out a breath. He could almost see Albion’s face in front of him, could hear his voice inside his head. “Can you blame me, after the way I failed you?”

A bayonet from a French soldier failed me, not you.

Theo shook his head. “I should have been there.”

You were fighting for your own life. You’re fortunate to still be alive.

“Fat lot of good it did me. I couldn’t even keep my promise to you.”

Theo waited to hear what Albion would say to that, but the voice seemed to have gone silent. “Brilliant.” He stood and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Now I’m going mad, talking to myself as though I’m having conversations with the dead.”

He took the long way back to the priory, hoping the walk and the clean country air would clear his mind. By the time he stepped into the cool quiet of the great room, he was indeed hungry. Now that he didn’t sleep until four in the afternoon, he should probably try eating some breakfast. Perhaps he would go to the kitchens and see if the cook had anything to keep him until later.

As he made his way through the house, he spotted Dickson, Bianca’s maid. She curtseyed to him, her arms full of gold material. Theo’s mind immediately went back to the night before, to kissing Bianca.

He pushed the thought away. “Dickson, where is your mistress? Is she in her chamber?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Dickson said. “I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

Theo felt a sudden sense of dread. “What do you mean? She hasn’t been back to the house?”

“If she has, sir, I haven’t seen her.”

“Bianca!” Theo called suddenly. Damn it all to hell. Why had he spent so long at the moat acting like some morose schoolboy? He should have been keeping watch over his charge. “Miss Featherswallow?” He began to walk through the rooms of the priory with more purpose now.

“Is there something amiss, sir?” Crosby asked, coming through the door of the music room Theo had just entered.

“Where is your mistress?”

“I do not believe she is in the house, sir. She went out.”

“Yes. I saw her at the moat. But that was some time ago. She came back.”

Crosby turned to one of the footmen, who was breathing hard from running to observe the commotion. “Have you seen Miss Featherswallow?”

“She were out walking, sir.” The footman glanced at Theo then back at Crosby. “I seen her walking toward the Mound.”

The Mound was what everyone called the slight rise to the west of the property. Theo had climbed it with Mr. Tyler and enjoyed the views. The day had been clear, and he’d seen nothing but rolling green hills sectioned by stone walls and dotted with white specks that would form into sheep if he were closer. The Mound was a good quarter-hour walk from the house, but she might have climbed it and returned by now.

“You needn’t worry about Miss Bianca,” Crosby said. “She grew up here. She knows it better than any of us, save her father or Mr. Tyler.”

And yet Theo couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Was he truly worried for her safety, or was he again feeling that pull of the invisible tie that had formed between them last night?

“Excuse me,” he said, and hurried out of the house. Halfway to the Mound, he realized he wasn’t wearing a hat and wished he’d taken a moment to grab one. The sun was high in the sky now, and warm. His face felt prickly, and he knew he’d be red from exposure tonight. Still, he kept on until the Mound came into view. He squinted but didn’t see Bianca at the top. That didn’t mean she wasn’t up there. He could only see this side from his vantage point. She might be on the far side.

The quickest way to the top was straight up. Theo studied the rocky climb, and knew he’d be lucky to make it. He wasn’t a skilled climber. He’d have to take the gently winding path upward, which would take time but ensure he’d arrive in one piece. And perhaps he’d see Bianca on her way down. He’d tell her what he thought about her going off on her own like this.

If he saw her.

If she wasn’t lying half dead from an injury or abducted by a fortune hunter who’d been lying in wait, hoping for just such an opportunity. And Theo, absorbed in his melancholy and self-recrimination, had given the fortune hunters the perfect opportunity.

“Bianca!” he yelled.

No response.

Determined, he started up the path.