Page 7 of The Lyon’s Dilemma (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #86)
“I shall deal with it,” she said. “And if I have any difficulties, you shall protect me. Promise me you will stay out of sight unless I am in immediate physical danger.”
“I shall,” he promised, reluctantly. He did not yet have the legal right to rearrange the teeth of any man who insulted her, but that did not mean he didn’t have the urge.
The visitor was Stillwater. “Mrs. Beverley, let me in,” he crooned, when she opened the door just a few inches. He pushed against it, but Felix was standing against the door with his shoulders against it, and the older man had no chance.
“Let me in, Mrs. Beverley,” he insisted. “You know you want me.”
“You are mistaken, Lord Stillwater,” Adaline said, her voice very calm. “I am not looking for a lover. I am a respectable widow. I expressed a genuine interest in your antiquities. It was not an invitation.”
He swore at her then, calling her a tease and other more insulting names, and when Adaline tried to shut the door in his face, he put his boot in the way so he could spew a vituperative description of the trouble he would make for her in retaliation for refusing him.
Felix pressed against the door until the nasty worm yelped in pain, then released the pressure. As he had predicted, Stillwater removed his foot, and Felix slammed the door shut. Adaline turned the key.
“Bottom-dweller,” Felix said, keeping his voice low. “Snake. Slug!”
“He is a mean and horrible man,” Adaline said. “I wish I could finish my task for Mrs. Dove Lyon. It is not stealing, is it, when you take from a criminal to return something to its rightful owner?”
For Adaline, the fact the scroll had been a wedding gift made Lord Stillwater’s crime worse, but Felix thought the man’s worst sin was the way he preyed on widows, pressuring them to be his lover, threatening them, and then—in Mrs. Dove Lyon’s case—stealing from them. Either way the man was a cad.
“I will help you,” he said.
“You, Felix? But you are the most honest man I have ever met,” Adaline said.
“‘It is not stealing,’” Felix quoted her, “‘when you take something from a criminal to return it to its rightful owner.’ It will be safer if I help you.”
That low life should not have threatened Felix’s lady. Losing the scroll he had taken from Mrs. Dove Lyon would be only the first part of Felix’s retribution.
“We shall make a plan in the morning,” Felix said. “For now, shall we go back to bed? I am wide awake, but there are other things we can do in bed, if you would like.”
Adaline declared that she would, indeed, like. They returned to bed and eventually, to sleep.
Felix crept back to his room before the dawn, feeling so light he was sure his feet were not touching the ground. Adaline was his . She had always been his, as he had been hers.
He and Adaline would deal with this small matter of Mrs. Dove Lyon’s errand, and then return to London and arrange their wedding.
A small wedding. Adaline wanted Melody there, and Felix would like Dorcas and her family to attend.
Other than that, they agreed on their other main requirement.
It must be soon. Neither of them wanted a long delay.
Felix was looking forward to building new memories with her, and they had made a start in the night, rediscovering the passion that had created their daughter. He could not wait to get to know Melody better. Could not wait to see Adaline grow round with Melody’s little brother or sister.
The halls and passages of the manor house were deserted, and Felix easily reached his room without being seen.
He startled his valet, though. Poor Williams must have thought he was still asleep, for when Felix slipped in through the door from the passage to his chambers, Williams let out a shriek and dropped the little tray of shaving equipment he had been holding.
“Your Grace!” Williams peered around Felix at the door, looked behind him toward the suite’s bedchamber, and then back to Felix. “You are awake, Your Grace. Shall I fetch Your Grace’s coffee?”
Three ‘Your Graces’ in a row. Williams was severely discombobulated. He knew Felix preferred less formality in his own chambers.
“Please do, but first, I have news. Confidential for the moment. You are the first to know.”
Williams’ chest swelled at this evidence of his importance in Felix’s life. “News, sir?”
“I have asked Mrs. Beverley to be my wife, and she has agreed. You may congratulate me, Williams.”
Williams beamed. “I do, sir. I do. Mrs. Beverley seems to be a fine lady. The servants like her, and her little girl is a favorite in the nursery.”
“Excellent,” said Felix, his own chest feeling several sizes larger at the praises to his womenfolk. “Thank you, Williams. Oh, and Williams, I have a task for you.”
Today, Felix would ask Lord Stillwater for a private tour of the man’s collection. Rumor said it included items unsuitable for a lady, kept in drawers in the collection room, away from sight. The dragon scroll might be there, and if so, Felix would see it.
If not—if it was, indeed, in the man’s private suite—Adaline needed to know that both Stillwater and his valet were occupied so she could search the bedchamber, dressing room, and—if he had one—sitting room.
“Have you met Lord Stillwater’s valet?” he asked Williams.
“Yes, sir. Poor man.”
Poor man, was it? Felix could only imagine.
“I want you to talk to him today. I’m going to be busy—hopefully—with his master at noon for approximately an hour.
If he is free. If there is a change, I will let you know.
I need you to keep his valet out of his chambers at the same time. Can you do that for me, Williams?”
“I can, sir. Am I allowed to ask what it is about?”
“It is a favor for my future duchess,” Felix explained. “Stillwater has stolen something, and we need to keep him and his valet out of his rooms so that my duchess can steal it back.”
Williams looked somewhat alarmed. When Felix thought about it, he was alarmed, too. He was about to participate in a crime! But Adaline was worth it, and Stillwater was a mongrel.
“We are on the side of the angels,” Felix assured Williams.
“We are on the side of the duchess, Your Grace,” said Williams, with fervent conviction. Which was true.