Page 26 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

I t’s been several days,” Graham said. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness, taking water and broth.”

Alston blinked, looking around and scrubbing his hand over his smooth jaw.

“As if I’d let you be in disarray, my lord.” Petrov chided. “We’ve been a mite worried over you.”

Alston smiled at all of them. “But now I’m getting better.” His face fell. “That long? It doesn’t feel like it.”

“How do you feel?” Amelia asked, tears glittering in her eyes. She kneeled at his side and took his hand. Alston gazed down at her fondly. He appeared younger; his cherubic curls were free of the thick pomade he used to tame them.

“Much better. Tired, weak, but better. Things are foggy, like I’ve had the strangest dream.”

“Of what?”

He swallowed, his eyes becoming glassy. “Mother, father. Do you remember the time I broke the window in the church? I dreamed of it. Only they were both there, lecturing me about it.” He smiled. “I’d never felt happier.”

Amelia broke and a sob slipped out. She pressed her forehead to Alston’s hand. Alston looked to Graham for help.

“Has she been like this the whole time?”

“We all have,” Graham said.

“You’ve been crying at my bedside? In your evening attire?” Alston teased.

Amelia lifted her head and glared at him. “You have no idea what we’ve been through, you hornet’s arse.”

Alston started to chuckle and winced again. “Tell me. I’m wide awake, now that I’ve slept so long.”

Graham and Amelia shared a heavy glance. Alston sluggishly looked between them.

“What is it? What have you done?”

Petrov took that as his moment to leave.

Alston frowned. “Just tell me.”

“We kept your injury a secret from Aunt Ruth, Nelson, and everyone else. They think you’ve gone to Stirling for sick sheep.”

“Sick sheep?”

“We didn’t know what else to say,” Graham said. “Amelia was certain if your aunt knew you were so injured she’d take over the household.”

“And try to marry her to Nelson,” Alston said. “I think I recall this discussion.”

“So we lied; we’ve been lying.” She pinned Graham with her gaze while Alston stared at his bowl of soup in thought.

She shook her head slightly, just for him to see. She didn’t want her brother to know about the engagement. And Graham understood why—Alston would never let it go. And if he knew the way Graham felt and the way he’d kissed Amelia and hungered for her, he’d make them marry for sure.

Graham cleared his throat, but the thick wedge of guilt remained. They wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever. Too many people knew. “I’ve been playing escort.”

“We’ve done the usual events, keeping up the lie so you could recover in peace,” Amelia added.

Alston nodded. “My thanks to both of you. Nelson might have tried to murder me if he’d known I was so weak and defenseless.”

Amelia nodded. Graham had to rip his gaze from her. Alston would see everything, otherwise. He would notice not only their usual tension and bitterness, but also the attraction, the friction.

“What do you need now?” Graham asked.

“I’ll summon Dr. Bradley to look me over again in the morning. He’ll shite himself.”

Graham chuckled. “He deserves it for the way he gave you up for lost.”

“I’m sure he’s had my coffin built,” Alston quipped.

“Stop it,” Amelia said. “Don’t joke about such things. Not yet.”

Alston smiled at her. “You look older than I remember. You look like her.”

“Who?”

“Mother. You both do that thing where you narrow your eyes and shake your head at me.”

Amelia’s lip quivered. “You don’t know that she ever did that.”

“I think it was them, Mother and Father, coming to spend a bit of time with me in my dream.”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and Graham flinched, instinctively wanting to go to her side and hold her. He was losing himself again. Or perhaps he was already lost. Although aggravation and frustration still coiled inside him as well. She’d left Graham at the ball without warning, let Chase into the house—and yet in spite of everything, he wanted nothing more than to be next to her.

Something cold spread through his chest and it scared him as he realized what he was feeling.

He’d fallen for her. He’d fallen for her, and once Alston knew, once Alston understood they’d had a fake engagement, Alston would ask him why Graham had agreed to such a thing—or rather, gone along with it. He hadn’t agreed. It had been too late to say anything after Amelia announced it at the garden party. But Alston would see that Graham felt something real—something terrifyingly complex for Amelia.

And Amelia... wouldn’t marry him. Even if she knew how he truly felt. She wouldn’t dishonor them both by entering into a marriage where one person loved and the other could not.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said aloud.

“Don’t leave, Graham,” Alston bade him. “I know this must have been a madhouse, with just the two of you holding the reins. What’s happened?”

“Nothing. We’ve been bored and scared for you,” Amelia said.

“That’s not quite true,” Graham objected.

Amelia sat up and glared at him. “Don’t say anything to distress him.”

“What is it?” Alston asked.

Graham sat in the chair to Alston’s right. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon has a match for you, and she’s been sending around Mr. Chase to see why you haven’t been about.”

Alston sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You knew?” Amelia asked.

“No, but she always has her intense focus on me, as if I were a prize bull.”

Amelia made a disgusted face, and Graham smiled.

“Why me and not you?” Alston said with a suspicious glare at Graham.

Graham shrugged. “I’m not an earl.” This felt like old times, like a normal day spent bantering over newspapers and coffee. Except Amelia looked ready to collapse. She rested her head on the bed, her face toward Alston. He knew how she felt.

“I’m going to change out of these clothes.” Graham exited. He paused outside, leaning against the wall as a wave of emotion swelled in him. Alston was awake.

Sam was awake .