Page 14 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“Indeed. It was a turbulent time in my life, but it made me appreciate that I was still alive, and that I needed to make peace with the fact being blind was my new reality.”

“I understand that all too well, except I don’t believe I’ve made peace with mine, and now, even that reality has shifted. Oddly, I haven’t had enough time to square with the loss of my first husband… or perhaps I don’t want to.”

“Because in that way, you assume you will start to forget him?”

“I suppose so.” She hadn’t thought about it along those lines, but it made sense.

“He will always exist in your heart, Annette. There is no fear of forgetting in that way. Everyone we’ve loved who are now gone are there.”

The soothing sound of his voice helped to calm the storms within, but she couldn’t relinquish her grip on those feelings because grief was easier than investigating a new future.

“If your life hadn’t been destroyed by the death of your first husband, what would you have been doing with your time?” Polite inquiry wove through the question.

“Oh…” Gooseflesh rippled over her skin, and she gave into a shiver.

Obviously, she’d had secret little dreams for herself, but she wasn’t willing to share those with the duke at this time, for it might give him additional disappointment regarding her.

“While I was married, I enjoyed singing—Christmas carols, operatic arias, hymns, cheeky tavern ballads. It was something I adored, and had been taught as part of my societal training.”

“Why did you stop?”

She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “The music in my soul stopped when Timothy died.” As of yet, it hadn’t returned, and perhaps that was one reason for her continuing grief.

“I’m so sorry, Annette. I know for myself, I’d feel devastated if I lost my love of music.”

That was a surprise; they had music in common, but she didn’t inquire as to how. It was far too much, and encouraged confusion to fill her chest. “If you don’t mind, Masterson, I am quite fatigued and would like to lie down.”

Why am I such a coward when anything comes too close?

“Very well. I shall return at luncheon but thank you for the conversation.”

Her chest ached, for their whole relationship was awkward, and she couldn’t see a way out right now. Would that ever change? She had no idea.

When luncheon came around, he once more knocked on her door, but Annette ignored it and his presence.

She couldn’t bear to continue talking with him and cheat him out of the whole experience, especially since he probably craved that while being trapped in the darkness all the time.

He knocked twice more and said her name, but she retreated into her dressing room with her hands over her ears until he eventually went away, but her chest ached with a different sort of sadness than she carried for the loss of Timothy.

By the time late afternoon arrived, she was hungry for tea, and her husband was nothing if not prompt.

The customary knock landed on her door. “Annette? I have brought a tea tray for you. Will you accept it?”

Her stomach growled, but there was also a leap to her pulse that she didn’t trust. “I will.”

“Excellent. If you can open the door, I’ll send it through.”

She did as requested, and as soon as she pulled the tray inside her room, Annette quickly closed the panel, but not before she caught a glimpse of the duke while he knelt on the floor.

Her heart skipped a beat, for he was handsome and quite determined.

The first thing her gaze landed on was a small posey for wildflowers.

“Oh, how sweet.” Grabbing it off the tray, she brought the blooms to her nose and inhaled the soft floral fragrance.

“The flowers are a lovely addition.” And quite charming.

“It is not May Day quite yet, but I thought you might enjoy them, and I hope they brighten your day.” A hint of pleasure wove through his voice.

“I adore flowers of any kind, but my favorites are pink roses and violets. They are both unassuming and yet pretty.” Timothy always brought her the roses, and she hadn’t had a bouquet of them since he’d passed.

Then she noticed a piece of stationery folded over once and tucked beneath a saucer, but she didn’t dare read it yet.

“I’m glad you like my offering. Was your first husband charming and thoughtful? I would imagine that he was, for you are the sort of woman who blooms beneath such attention.”

Despite the subject matter, her heart skipped a beat that he’d paid her another subtle compliment.

“Timothy was everything good and decent in this world. We rubbed on well together, and he adored being a banker.” Her voice caught and her hand shook as she poured out a cup of tea.

“We had such plans together for our life. The five years I had with him don’t seem like enough time, yet in other ways, it felt as if it had been a lifetime.

” Full of ups and downs, but they rode them out together.

“I am glad you had that.”

“So am I, which is another reason why I’m struggling now, with this second marriage. There is much to remember…”

“And for me to live up to, apparently.” A trace of bitterness entered his voice. “But I will hopefully prevail. There is much living still to do for both of us, Annette.”

She nodded, but a wash of tears filled her eyes. Another wave of grief smacked into her, making her catch her breath. “I don’t wish to talk any longer. Could you please leave me alone?”

“Of course, but something you must learn about me? I am patient and persistent. Eventually, I will get through to you, and you might just find that being wed to me isn’t as horrible as you think.”

Tears fell to her cheeks as her chest tightened. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said in a barely audible whisper she doubted he could hear.

When it was time for dinner, the duke returned to her door as if he had been doing just that for a lifetime.

Following his knock, he said, “Annette, I’ve brought a meal tray for you and for me. We can share dinner on opposite sides of the door should you enjoy the company… without risk.”

Why was this man so charming and sweet? It was beginning to prove difficult to remain distant from him.

But she nodded and said, “I would enjoy that, actually.” She opened the door enough that he could slide the tray to her on the floor.

A quick glance at him sent flutters through her lower belly, for he’d dressed in his tailcoat and the requisite clothing as if they were both having dinner in the dining room, according to society’s rules.

“You are, um, quite handsome this evening, Peregrine. I appreciate the effort.”

He grinned, then, a full one instead the half gestures he’d offered before, and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I had hoped you might have noticed. Also, I don’t things by half.”

“So I am becoming aware.” Then she closed the door as fear raised its ugly head once more. Silently berating herself for a coward and not anything like a duchess should be, Annette leaned her back against the panel as she reached for a slice of bread that was still warm from the oven.

“Will you tell me what happened to Timothy had ended his life far too soon?”

Oh, dear.

She wasn’t nearly ready for that, but there was no sense in putting it off any longer. The bite of bread she’d just taken tastes like dust. Quickly swallowing, she heaved out a breath and replaced the bread in her hand with holding the glass of red wine he’d provided.

“He’d been walking home through Mayfair from the bank where he made his living.

A thug pounced on him, for it was evening and dark.

From what the authorities told me, the robbery proceeded.

” Her voice broke and tears once more threatened.

“Marks on Timothy’s hands indicated he’d fought back, but the stab wounds he’d received were far too heinous.

He died in an alleyway he’d been dragged into, clutching a miniature portrait of me in his hand. ”

“You have my heartfelt condolences.” A soft sound on the door panel might be him with a hand to the wood. “Sudden deaths like that—or even horrid events that disrupt life—are difficult to navigate without proper closure.”

“Agreed.” She sniffled but let the tears fall. After a bracing gulp of the wine, Annette swallowed and replaced the glass on the tray.

“I felt as you did when I lost my sight; that is to say, I mourned.” The sound of his voice oddly helped to soothe her.

“The fever and accompanying sickness I’d contracted as a young man of twenty swept through the village near my father’s country estate—mine now, I suppose.

He had remained behind in London to join the family later.

It kept him safe, but my mother and I were victims; my sister had a milder case and survived unscathed. ”

“How long were you ill?”

“Weeks, but the fever lasted only a few days. It burned high, far too high I was told later by the physician. It was life threatening, and I wasn’t conscious for most of it. When it finally broke and I was midway through the sickness, my vision was gone. No warning or no fading. It was just… gone.”

“I’ll wager you had a terrible time acclimating after that.”

“I did, especially since my mother didn’t survive her own fever. My whole life had been turned upside down, and I was handed a completely different way of living, whether I wanted it or not.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” she said in a quiet voice that he might not hear.

“No one usually deserves the ill that befalls them. That doesn’t mean they aren’t strong enough to survive it, and we’re often left bitter about such things. I chose to think of my affliction as a second chance at life, for at least I was, indeed, alive, but I also wanted to live.”

That made sense. Did she have the courage to let go of the things she stubbornly held onto in the hopes there might be something better waiting?

“Oh, I have a cat, by the way.”

“How lovely!” Appreciating the change in conversation, Annette rested her forehead against the door. “I adore animals. Will you tell me about him?”

“His name is Romeo, for he’s quite charming, and I adore Shakespeare’s works.

He’s a fat, long-haired orange marmalade Persian with a somewhat arrogant attitude and a temper when he’s not charming everyone around.

He doesn’t like many people, though, so when he attaches himself to someone, it’s an event. ”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “That is every cat.” Then she squealed, for an orange and white paw inserted itself through the crack between the door and the floor. “How cheeky!”

“As I said, he’s charming… until he’s not.” Humor wove through the duke’s voice.

Slipping a violet-colored satin ribbon from her hair, she dangled it over the paw, and when a second front paw came under the door to make a grab for the ribbon, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What an adorable animal.” But when the cat hooked the ribbon, the paws disappeared, and he took the ribbon with him.

Another giggle escaped her, but she quickly sobered.

It wouldn’t do to become distracted. “Thank you for that, Peregrine. I’m glad you have a companion, even if he’s of the furry, feline variety. ”

After several moments of silence, he asked, “Why do you use my Christian name?”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “That is your name.”

“My friends, if they don’t use my title, call me Allan, which is my middle name because I don’t fancy Peregrine.”

“Well, I do. It’s more distinguished than Allan. Though I understand. My parents call me Ann or Annie.”

“Bah.” She could almost imagine him shaking his head. “Why wouldn’t anyone suffer all the way to the end with your name? It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too,” she said with a smile. “My first husband, though, called me Ann.” She missed hearing that in his voice.

“Well, to me you will always be Annette.”

For long moments, they sat in silence while she continued to nibble her way through the dinner on her tray.

“Well, I should probably say goodnight,” the duke said in a soft, thrilling voice that put her in mind of intimate moments after midnight beneath bedsheets. “Sleep well, and I will try again tomorrow.” A touch of sadness blended in with the whisper, and it went straight through her chest.

She rested a palm against the door. “So will I, Peregrine.” As the sound of his footsteps faded along the corridor, she sighed and then took up the note he’d left for her.

A

No doubt you are feeling lost just now; I have known that valley as well, but I promise you that happier days are coming, and if you’ll let me, I would love to share them with you. Until then, I am content to wait for as long as you need.

P

A flutter went through her heart. “Oh, Peregrine.” She suspected that sooner rather than later, he would be convincing enough to prompt her to open her door and come into his life.