Page 23 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Allan moved along the corridor with an odd sense of hope in his chest.

When he reached his wife’s door, he rapped upon the wood.

Things between him and Annette the past few days had been…

breathtaking. Never had he thought she might come ’round to his advances or his efforts, but ever since she’d ventured out of her rooms, she had proved a pleasant companion, and being with her almost made him forget that he wasn’t sighted, for she added color and vibrancy to his life.

After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” The sound of the maid’s voice sent a thread of cool disappointment into his chest. “Her Grace is ready for your outing, but she’s suffering from nerves, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well then, let me see if I can’t soothe her.

With the help of his cane and his free hand outstretched, he entered her suite, and it was the first time that he’d been inside it since she’d become his wife.

All of their carnal interactions had been conducted in his rooms; perhaps she thought he would feel more comfortable there. “That will be all, Molly.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Ring if she needs me.”

When the sound of the maid’s footsteps faded, Allan came further into the room. “Annette?”

“I’m here. At the window.”

He followed the sound of her voice until she grasped his hand. “Is all well?”

“Yes. I am merely suffering an attack of nerves due to going out into public with you. It is quite a lot to contemplate.”

“Indeed, it is.” Not knowing what else to do, Allan stood at the window with her.

The heat of the sun on his face was lovely, and it so rarely happened that he always sought to enjoy each moment when the weather cooperated.

“We needn’t go out if you don’t wish it, but I promise we won’t truly be out and about within society. ”

“Oh?” Surprise rode on that one word. “What will we do then?”

He shrugged. “We can walk in Bedford Square or Hyde Park if you are willing. Perhaps take a picnic lunch.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad.” When she turned and rested a hand on his chest, he put his cane against the wall then slipped his arms about her waist.

“No, it won’t.” The feel of her in that loose embrace was extraordinary. “I merely wish to take you out of the house. It matters not to me where we are.”

She moved her hand to lay her palm against his cheek, and he could imagine that she looked up at him with her head tilted to meet his gaze. “I appreciate your understanding, for I am working to overcome the bout of nerves whenever they rear up.”

“We all have something we battle.” When he turned his head, he pressed a kiss into her palm, then while holding her hand, Allan found her lips with his.

There was something magical about kissing his wife, and part of him wished he could set aside a handful of hours each day to do just that.

As he pulled away, she clung to his hand, and that pleased him.

“Are you in a better frame of mind now?”

“I am.” There was a smile in her voice. “Let us go to Hyde Park.”

“Oh?” Surprise bubbled up in his chest. “You are certain? I thought you would choose Bedford Square.”

“I would have, but I’ve not been to Hyde Park often, and it is a sunny day. I would like to go there with you. Besides, you are looking quite dapper today in the blue jacket I favor, and I want others to get a peek of you.”

Those words made him grin. “Why, though? To make it known that you’ve landed a duke?” Tucking her hand through his crooked elbow, he walked across the room with her.

A short laugh issued from her. “Not at all, but I do want everyone to see that you belong to me.” With the slightest pressure, she guided him into the corridor and then down the stairs.

“Ah, then I shouldn’t disappoint you, hmm?” Oddly enough, anticipation circled through his gut, for he wanted to shout from the rooftops that she belonged to him as well.

During the ride to Hyde Park, Allan sat beside her on the same bench, for obviously he couldn’t drive them himself. Long ago he’d given up the bitterness surrounding that, and now, having someone to share the trip with more than made up for the fact he’d lost the bit of freedom found in driving.

He and Annette discussed different Shakespearean plays they each enjoyed, and when he’d confined that he still attended plays and operas even though he didn’t have his sight, she voiced her surprise.

Once he explained that he adored being able to hear the conversations on the stage along with the songs at times as well as experience the ambience of being in the theater, she understood, and they continued to talk with passion about various plays and operas they liked or didn’t.

By the time the carriage rolled into Hyde Park, he was surprised the time through Mayfair had gone by so quickly, not that he lived such a distance from that location. Honestly, in Annette’s company, life moved in a different manner than he’d become used to, and he was taking to it rather quickly.

As they strolled the main avenue through the park, Allan stopped at a handcart to buy a small bouquet of flowers. The vendor assured him they were wrapped in delicate yellow tissue paper and that the spring blooms of daffodils, pink tulips, and a couple of fern fronds were the height of spring.

When he presented the floral offering to Annette, she made sounds of excitement and pleasure, told him how pretty they were, and that praise warmed his chest.

“Well, I am making good on my promise to give you flowers every day, and May Day had only just passed.” He brushed his gloved fingers along her cheek. “I want to make you happy. And not just because we are newly married.”

“You are certainly going about it the right way. The flowers smell lovely, just like a spring day.” Once more, she rested her free hand in his crooked elbow as they continued. “I adore those little shows of affection you have been giving me; my rooms look like a bower and smell so lovely.”

“I’m glad you are enjoying them.” It brought him joy that something as pedestrian as giving her small bouquets of flowers could make her happy.

In fact, he suspected that he might have romantic feelings for her, but for the moment, he wanted to keep them to himself so he wouldn’t spook her back into hiding.

“I am. Flowers are so cheerful and much needed in this life. Each time I look at the flowers, I can’t help but smile. Thank you for remembering me in such a way.”

“It is the least I can do.” However, his thoughts continued to bedevil him.

If Annette was still in love with her dead husband, declaring himself would prove awkward, and he would once more be rejected.

He didn’t know if his spirit was strong enough for that a second time.

Then he cleared his throat. “I want to keep iterating the fact that you are my duchess and that I will continue to look after you, no matter what.”

“You are far too lovely to me.” The fingers on his arms tightened slightly. “Just know, I would never wish to do anything that would hurt you.” With gentle pressure, she guided him off the gravel path and onto the grass.

“I rather doubt you could ever do that.”

Beside him, her body tensed so slightly that other people might not have noticed, but he did. Why was she worried? Did she fear that he would leave her or send her away for the women that she was?

“We are near the deep part of the Serpentine,” she told him in a low voice. “There are a couple of wrought iron benches nearby. Would you like to sit with me for a bit?” It was an innocent enough question, but apprehension clung to those words.

“I can’t think of anything else I would rather do.

” But his concern for her grew. Was she planning to leave him?

Allan didn’t know, so he followed her lead and sat beside her on the bench she led him to.

The sound of the gently moving water of the river reached his ears, and he took comfort in that.

“Perhaps I should take you to Brighton for a wedding trip. I find the sound of water of any type, as long as it’s moving, has the tendency to soothe my soul. ”

“I would enjoy that ever so much. I’ve not been anywhere outside of London, unless you count my father’s country estate, and even then…”

“…you kept to yourself in your room,” he finished in a whisper.

“Yes. Even before I married Timothy, many things about the world frightened me, so I suppose I can’t blame his horrible death for my penchant for hiding.”

“Why do you think you’ve felt that way? Did something happen in your childhood to make you so fearful?”

“Not necessarily.” For long moments, she remained silent, and he could imagine that she watched the ducks and geese on the water, for their soft honks and calls had already reached his ears.

“As a child, it is frightening to learn about deaths in the family and realize that all of a sudden, the people you loved are no longer there.”

“You speak of your grandparents or possibly cousins?”

“Yes.” She patted his arm. “In some cases, death wasn’t even explained. I remember once that I was missing my grandfather, but my mother merely told me he was no longer with us. I was young and didn’t know what that meant. I only knew he wasn’t there any longer.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been frustrating and frightening.”

“It was.” She sighed. “Later, as I grew older, I began to lose friends, or heard about the deaths of friends of friends.” Fabric rustled, indicating she must have changed her position on the bench.

“I grew to think the world was a terrifying place, so when I met Timothy, and he wished to court me, I agreed, because in him, I found safety, somewhere to rest from the torrent of bad news.”

“Ah, now I understand.” Allan found her free hand and squeezed her fingers. “You put everything you were into your husband, you trusted him, you had a life planned with him, but when he died a violent death, you felt as if life had betrayed you.”