Page 12 of The Lyon’s Dilemma (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #86)

T he Earl of Somerford, or Ben as he had invited Felix to call him, had agreed to stand up with Felix at the church, and had arrived early at Felix’s town mansion.

“I left the carriage for Dorcas and the children,” he said.

“They will be much better behaved if they don’t have a long wait, so they’ll see us at the church. Are you ready, Felix?”

“I am.” More than ready, and the sense of dread that plagued him was surely just some sort of wedding nerves.

He’d dreamed of his wedding during the night, and in the dream something was terribly wrong.

Something, but what it was, he could not now recall.

Still, he was determined not to let his wedding day be shadowed by a dream. A dream he could not properly remember.

He ordered his own carriage, and tried to engage Ben in conversation.

He was unsuccessful. When his mind was not drifting off into ruminations about his future life with the two females he loved, it fretted away at wisps of the lost dream, which would not quite coalesce into something he could remember.

It was a relief when a footman announced the carriage was at the front steps.

Ben yawned as they took their seats and the carriage set out for the church.

“A late night?” Felix asked.

“A son who wants to be fed in the early hours of the morning, and then won’t go back to sleep until his father sings to him,” Ben said. He added, “One wonders why one bothers to pay nursemaids.” But his smile as he said it could only be described as smug.

Felix sorted through the implications of Ben’s explanation. “Dorcas is feeding him herself?”

“She is. She says she fed Stephen, and she is certain that is why he is so strong and robust. And, of course, she is even more tired than I, so while I get up when she does, I send her back to bed once Noah is fed. Joking aside, Felix, that quiet half hour in the middle of the night with my son is one of the finest parts of every day. Dorcas and I hope you will be able to enjoy the same experience.”

“If I have a son,” Felix warned, “he will take Stephen’s place as my heir.”

Ben shrugged. “Of course, but Stephen has no idea that he is your heir, so it won’t make any difference.”

“The money and estate I have already settled on him as the inheritance he should have had from his father will still be his, of course.”

“Between us, we shall make sure he has a good start in life,” Ben agreed.

“You don’t need to be concerned about Stephen.

Marry your Adaline and make babies, Felix.

Being a father is wonderful. And I love Stephen every bit as much as I love Noah.

Your new daughter is a little older, but I’m sure it will be the same for you. ”

“More than you might think,” Felix said. He was still amazed no one at the house party had guessed Melody’s parentage—or if they had, no one had mentioned it to him. If they had seen the painting of him as a child, they would have guessed in a minute. Given her green eyes, they probably had.

Come to think of it, Ben would probably guess, and Dorcas, too.

“Oh?” Ben raised an interrogative eyebrow.

“Adaline and I were betrothed ten years ago, Ben. Suffice it to say that, before things went wrong, we…” No need to go into detail.

“The point is, Melody is my daughter. I had no idea she existed, but I knew as soon as I saw her that she was mine. You will know, too, for Stephen and Melody could be brother and sister. Which is unsurprising, since they are cousins.”

The carriage stopped outside of the gates of the church, a couple of footmen leapt down to open the gates, and the carriage then proceeded to the steps of St Mary’s.

Felix checked his pocket watch just as various bells started to ring the hour. It was ten o’clock. The wedding was set for a quarter past ten—perhaps to fit it in between other weddings, for another happy couple and their friends and family were just emerging from the church.

He and Ben waited for a few minutes for the newlyweds to make their way down the street, followed by a crowd of cheerful, celebrating, people, and then went into the building.

“My quarter past wedding?” asked the minister.

“Yes,” Felix acknowledged. “I am Kempbury, and my friend is the Earl of Somerford.”

The minister held out his hand for first Felix and then Ben to shake. “Daniell Matthias. You are the groom, Your Grace?”

Felix agreed.

“Come and wait inside the nave,” Mr. Matthias invited. “I shall be with you shortly. That was my second wedding of the day, and I have six more before noon, including yours. I trust you will not be offended if I shut myself in the sacristy for five minutes and have a cup of tea.”

“Not at all,” Felix assured him, amused at the man’s slightly belligerent apology.

He and Ben took a seat in the front pew, and not long afterward, Mrs. Dove Lyon arrived.

It was only fair for her to be there, since she had brought him and Adaline back together.

She nodded to them both and sat on the bride’s side of the church.

Dorcas was next. She, with Stephen at her side, little Noah in her arms, and a nursemaid at her heels, entered the pew behind the one in which Felix and Ben sat.

The minister reappeared, and looked down the aisle, then nodded toward Felix with an air of expectation. Ben nudged Felix. “Time to stand in front of the altar,” he said.

Felix had no sooner taken his place than Ben nudged him again, this time looking down the aisle to the main doors. Adaline had just entered. His eyes devoured her as she glided down the aisle. He smiled. A special walk for her wedding day. Adaline was more of a striding sort of a lady.

She beamed back at him—he could see that much through the short veil that was fixed to her bonnet. She had not described her gown in her first letter. Just that she had ordered a new one. She said nothing about it in her second.

It was a kind of bluey-green—women probably had a fancy name for the precise shade, but that was as close as Felix could come.

The same color had been used for ornate embroidery covering the bodice and cuffs, and forming a deep hem on the skirts.

Something—glass beads or jewels—sparkled in the light as she moved.

As she approached, he looked behind her and frowned. When she came up beside him, he whispered, “How is Melody?”

She shrugged but didn’t answer because Mr. Matthias had already begun the words of the ceremony. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

“I give myself,” said Adaline firmly. Her voice was huskier than usual. Did she have a cold? The same cold as Melody, perhaps?

Mr. Matthias gaped at her for a moment, then continued, addressing the congregation, telling them the reason for the gathering. Under cover of the minister’s voice, Felix asked, “Is Melody worse? Is something wrong?”

“Melody is fine. She is at home. Like I told you she would be.” Adaline’s reply was impatient. “A wedding is no place for children. Shush. He is talking.”

Felix tried to peer through the veil. What he was thinking was just not possible. The priest was asking if anyone had cause to think they could not be lawfully joined together, and Felix was suddenly certain he had very good cause.

When Mr. Matthias asked the two of them directly—more, he solemnly charged them, out of fear of judgement, to tell the truth—Felix spoke up. “This woman is not Adaline. She is not my betrothed.”

Gasps came from Dorcas and Mrs. Dove Lyon.

The woman flung back her veil and looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. “Kempbury. Darling, what are you saying?”

Ben, beside him, said, “Steady on, Felix.”

Now their few onlookers were standing. The baby had started to cry.

Felix stared into grey eyes that were certainly not Adaline’s lovely, familiar hazel ones. And yes, the chin was more pointed. In fact, in a dozen ways, the face was subtly wrong.

He had seen enough. He turned to Mr. Matthias.

“This is Emmeline, Adaline’s half-sister. I don’t know how she did it, but she has taken Adaline’s place.” He turned back to the woman standing next to him. “Where is she, you fiend?”

Emmeline, if it was her, turned to Mrs. Dove Lyon.

“I am Adaline Beverley,” she insisted. “Tell him, Mrs. Dove Lyon. I am the one who brought you the dragon scroll. You thanked me and you said you planned to hang it in your bedchamber, where you could see it every morning. I signed the marriage agreements. I am Adaline Beverley.”

Felix’s certainty wavered but firmed again. This was not Adaline. In the next moment, a new voice joined in the dispute. “You are not,” said that beloved voice. “ I am Adaline, and you cannot destroy my happiness again, Emmeline.”

There she was. His beloved, his darling. Looking tired and bedraggled, in clothes in which she must have slept, possibly for days, from their wrinkles. And she was hand-in-hand with Melody, who was equally disheveled. They were both breathing heavily and were red-faced, as if they had been running.

Emmeline gaped for a moment then spun to face Mrs. Dove Lyon. “You said Kempbury would marry the person who gave you the dragon scroll. I did so. Kempbury is mine .”

“I will not marry you,” Felix declared.

“You signed a contract,” Mrs. Dove Lyon reminded him, looking deeply worried. “ I signed a contract. And yet…”

“Breach of contract.” Emmeline sounded delighted. “Kempbury will go through with the marriage, or I shall sue you both. A wealthy duke and a rich gambling den operator? I shall sue you until all you have left are your shirts.”

Adaline spoke. “Mrs. Dove Lyon, I retrieved the dragon scroll, not Emmeline. She drugged me, stole it from me, and locked me and Melody up so we could not interfere.”

Emmeline snarled at her. “I retrieved the scroll. Your word against mine. In any case, I returned it to Mrs. Dove Lyon.”

“Adaline retrieved the scroll. I was there,” said Felix.

“You would say that,” Emmeline sneered at him.

“What of the tooth?” asked Adaline.