Page 8 of 21 Days with the Lyon

A s soon as Theo walked out of the door, Bianca turned on her father. She immediately regretted the action, as any sharp movement still hurt her aching head. “Why did you send him away?”

He took the seat beside her bed. “Let’s not speak of him any longer. I must have lost all sense to ever involve Mrs. Dove-Lyon in our difficulties or think marrying you off to a ne’er-do-well was the solution to our problems.”

“He is not a ne’er-do-well. He’s a good man.”

“Yes, which is why he owes a fortune to a gaming hell and his own father won’t speak to him. As for you, what were you thinking? I’d like to blame him, but I know you too well. Too often you wander alone without thinking ahead. How many times have you been drenched in a downpour because you didn’t bother to look up at the sky and notice the storm clouds?”

“I’m noticing them now,” she said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Papa, I don’t want him to leave.”

“Well, we cannot keep him here. As soon as Mr. Tyler has the bridge finished, Kitty will return, and we’ll all be together.”

“Papa! No! How will Kitty ever marry if she’s sequestered away?”

“She seems happiest alone, Bianca. I think at some point, we all must face facts.”

Bianca thought about Theo’s head on the bed, her hand on his hair, his soft voice confessing all his failings to her.

“I’m in love with him, Papa.”

“With whom?”

She frowned at him.

“Not that young reprobate.”

“He is not a reprobate. He is a good man. And yes, I love him. I don’t even know when I fell in love with him, but I do love him.”

“I see. Then I shall call him back in here and tell him to marry you.”

“Papa!” Bianca would have grabbed him, but he was on the side of her broken arm. “I don’t want him to marry me because he must. I want him to love me as well.”

“Why wouldn’t he love you? You are eminently loveable.”

“Thank you, Papa. You are my father. Of course you think that.”

“Rubbish. Everyone loves you. I’m sure he does as well. I’ll call him back—”

“He doesn’t.”

The viscount halted mid-stride, turning around to peer at her. “What do you mean?”

“I did ask him to marry me—not formally, but I brought up the idea. He doesn’t want to marry me. I believe he thinks he is not worthy of me.”

“He’s not worthy of you.”

“Papa, you are not helping.”

“I told you I would fetch him—”

“Papa!” Her head felt as though it were splitting now. “Please, come and sit with me. I have missed you.”

He returned to his chair and sat. “You look so pale, my dear. When I received Mr. Filliol’s letter, I believe my heart stopped. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Bianca said. Her eyes felt heavy. She needed to close them, as the light was too bright and making her head ache even more. “I’m so happy you are here, Papa.”

“And I’ll stay right here. Rest now, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“And where do you think you are going?” the viscount bellowed as Theo carried his valise through the great room.

He paused in front of the enormous tapestry. The question was a good one. He hadn’t thought any further ahead than to pack his few belongings and be out of the house. But where would he go? His flat in London? There was nothing for him there.

He wouldn’t return to the Lyon’s Den if he could help it. He’d be more than happy never to set foot in there again.

“I don’t rightly know, my lord,” Theo said, turning to face the viscount.

“Back to London and your degenerate ways?”

“No. If I never see the inside of the Lyon’s Den again, I’ll be a happy man.”

The viscount nodded. “Then you would go home?”

“I’d like that, but I’m not entirely certain where home might be. My father—”

“Your father will be glad to see you.” The viscount leaned against the mantel, and though he was a tall man, he looked small beside the enormous centerpiece of the chamber.

“I don’t think so. I said horrible things to him.”

“Then apologize.”

Theo set his valise down on the flagstone floor. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. I don’t claim to know your father well, but I have met him a time or two. He’s a reasonable man. He loves his children. Play the prodigal son. Go home, apologize, and he will take you back. I’m certain he has been regretting his harsh conduct toward you as much as you regret yours to him. He probably thinks what he did was for your own good.”

Theo smiled. “As much as I hate to admit it, it probably was.”

“Then you should go to him. This life is too short not to make amends with those we love.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He bent to lift his valise.

“But you can’t leave yet.”

Theo raised a brow. “I can’t?”

“No. You have unfinished business here.”

“You told me—”

“Never mind that.” The viscount waved a hand. “That was before I spoke to my daughter. She has a quite ridiculous notion in her head.”

Theo couldn’t say why, but his heart had started to pound a little faster, his breath coming shorter. “Does she?”

“She told me she’s in love with you.”

Theo felt as though someone had hit him in the throat. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t move.

“She’s only upset because you do not love her. She made me promise not to force you to marry her. So I won’t.” He did not look happy about that.

“My lord, I do not think Bianca loves me. It’s an infatuation, nothing more.”

“ You tell her that, Mr. Filliol. I was married for many years. I know better than to try to correct a female on a topic like this. If I tell her she is being ridiculous then she will only dig her heels in deeper.”

“Then should I tell her?”

“Well, you cannot leave here and break her heart, so you had better think of something. I expect you to fix this, Mr. Filliol. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Then put that valise away until you’ve made things right.”

Theo sighed. Now what the devil was he supposed to do?

Day Seventeen

Bianca managed to climb out of bed, don her robe, and peek at herself in the dressing room mirror. She looked a fright. Dickson had tried her best, but what could the poor maid do when her mistress had been practically on death’s door?

She crossed the room, intent on peering outside. A storm had blown in during the wee hours of the morning and roused her. Now she could not go back to sleep. That was the problem with sleeping half the day away. One couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night.

She went to the curtains on the other side of the room and parted them. The wind whipped the tree branches of a large elm this way and that, and sheets of rain poured from the sky. She wondered if Theo was caught in it. She hoped he had found shelter and was safe. She wished she’d had a chance to tell him goodbye. She might have also told him that it was time he forgave himself for the death of his friend Albion. Theo might not think he was worthy of saving, but Bianca would be forever grateful to his friend for doing so.

She dropped the curtains and turned to go back to bed. She didn’t have her strength back yet, and she needed to lie down again.

But when she turned, she spotted Theo standing in front of the hidden door leading down to the library. She blinked, certain she was imagining him.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he said.

No, she was not imagining him. Only the real Theo would admonish her like this.

“I thought you’d gone,” she said.

“Not yet. Let me help you.” He crossed the room and took the elbow of her uninjured arm. She allowed him to guide her, not because she felt unwell but because seeing him made her lightheaded. And being close to him…well, that had always been a heady experience.

Not yet . That was what he’d said. He would leave. This might be the last time she saw him.

“Theo, I need to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t. Here, lie down.”

“I’m fine.” She sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t release his hands. “I really do need to tell you something.”

“If this is about your feelings for me, your father told me.”

Bianca drew back, tensing all over. “He did what ?”

“You are not in love with me, Bianca. It’s an infatuation. I promise you’ll forget me as soon as I’m gone.”

She stared at him for a long moment then thrust his hands away from her. This man infuriated her so much! “Is that what you think of me?” she demanded. “That I’m some capricious child who doesn’t know her own mind?”

“That’s not what I said or what I meant.”

“Then if I say I love you—Do not shake your head. I do love you, and I know the difference between love and infatuation. That is what I feel. It isn’t some fleeting emotion. I’ve loved you for days now, but do you know what really made me fall in love with you?”

“Bianca…”

“When you told me about Albion.”

He stepped back, stumbled over the chair, and ended up sitting down, hard, in it. “I didn’t think you heard that.” His voice was barely audible.

“I’m not sure I was entirely conscious, but I heard enough.”

“I thought you were dying, and I hadn’t slept for days—”

“Dickson tells me you rarely left my side. I don’t remember much of what happened that morning, but I do know I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t come looking for me.” She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. “You are a good man, Theophile Filliol. Your behavior toward me is proof enough of that, but when I heard about the way you mourned your friend and the promise you made him, it just solidified my good opinion of you. I love you, and you deserve my love.”

“No.” He took her hand, removing it from his cheek. “I didn’t tell you the rest of the story. If you knew that…”

“Then tell me.” She sat back and clasped her hands in her lap. “Go ahead. What’s the rest of the story? I assume the little boy passed away, else you would be with him right now. I know you well enough to understand you would never abandon your duty.”

“But I did.”

Theo put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t like to remember Ralph, but he needed to tell Bianca. He wanted her to know the full story. He wanted, desperately, to deserve her love.

Because the truth was that he loved her too. Long hours at her bedside had allowed him to coalesce all his feelings, examine them, and come to a conclusion. One thing was abundantly clear: he loved her, but he would not have her under false pretenses. She should know the whole of him—a terrifying prospect.

He looked up at her, saw the gentle way her eyes met his, and knew he could tell her this one piece of himself he’d never told anyone. She would listen. She wouldn’t judge him. She would understand.

“After Albion died,” he began softly, “I couldn’t return to England right away. The sword wound on my shoulder became infected, and the surgeons did not want me traveling with my newly set arm.” He gestured to her broken arm. “My arm was broken in a different location, but I understand the pain and frustration you feel right now.” He took a breath and rubbed his arm, the phantom pain returning for a moment. “My point is, I couldn’t return to England right away, and I’ll never know if a quicker return would have made a difference. If I would have defied the surgeons’ orders or insisted my escort push harder so we might return more quickly.”

“Theo—”

“Let me finish.” He gave her a pleading look, needing to say this and get the words out before he lost his nerve. “When I did return, I went directly to the home of the caretakers Albion had told me about. I don’t know what the place had looked like when he left Ralph there, but it was not the idyllic farm he’d described. Perhaps the couple had fallen on hard times, or perhaps it was all a ruse from the start. The place was squalid and filthy. When I found Ralph, he was thin and sick and hungry. I took him away, took him to Huntingdon House, my family home. I should have taken him to the nearest doctor and had him treated right away. I just thought—”

Bianca reached for his hand, gripped it hard. “You thought that he would be best cared for in a clean, loving place, where he could be given every attention. I would have done the same thing.”

Theo shook his head. “Anyone would have seen the boy was too sick to travel. When I arrived home, my parents and the staff were horrified at his condition. We did everything we could, but in the end, the best doctors and the best medicines couldn’t save him. I had failed Albion again. He asked one thing of me—to care for his child—and I couldn’t even do that.”

“But you did care for his child. You did exactly as he asked. You didn’t put the boy in those conditions. You lifted him out and showed him love at the end. Albion’s death wasn’t your fault. Young Ralph’s death wasn’t your fault. Theo, listen to me. My injury is not your fault.”

He looked away from her. Her words were exactly what he needed to hear, but he didn’t know if he was ready to accept this redemption. He’d carried his guilt around for so long.

“I love you, Theo, and you deserve my love and the love of your family. You pushed them away, and you can push me away, but I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you, even if you can’t love me back.”

He looked up from their joined hands, his gaze meeting hers. “But I do love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. How could I not? But—”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t say another word.” She leaned forward, and before he knew what was happening, she kissed him.

He would have liked to take her in his arms and kiss her back with all the passion he’d tamped down for days and days, but he was mindful of her injuries and returned the kiss with exquisite gentleness.

“Theo,” she whispered when they parted, “I have a question for you.”

He smiled. “Don’t you dare fall to one knee. You should be lying down.”

“Then my sitting here will have to suffice. Theo, will you marry me?”

His chest constricted as his heart seemed to swell with new feeling. He hadn’t thought he could love her more than he did. Clearly, he’d been wrong—about a great many things. “You are certain you want me for your husband?”

“More certain of anything than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Then yes, I will marry you.” He kissed her again. “Now, for the love of God, lie down and rest.”

She smiled and allowed him to help her under the covers, adjust her pillow, and sit with her until she fell back asleep.