Page 8 of The Lyon’s Dilemma (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #86)

A daline had been searching for thirty minutes before she found the dragon scroll.

It was in Stillwater’s dressing room, mounted inside a wardrobe door.

When Adaline removed it, the patch of brighter wood left behind was glaringly obvious.

If Stillwater didn’t notice, the valet would, but she had come across a folio of obscene prints during her search of the bedchamber.

She picked the least salacious, and pinned it in the scroll’s place.

She would have to hope that the valet was so used to the piece being there that he would not actually look at it.

In a drawer at the base of the wardrobe, she found a clutter of items, including the mounted dragon’s tooth. That and the dragon scroll went into her bag, and she returned through the rooms, making sure that everything else was put back the way she had found it.

By now, three quarters of an hour had ticked by. Adaline needed to leave. Felix had promised her an hour, but it wouldn’t do to push her luck. Besides, what she had come for, she had. She let herself out of the dressing room door and closed it behind her.

She made her way downstairs, and paused for a moment at the open door to the billiard room.

Stillwater was bent over the table, and the other two men were focused on his play, but Felix must have been watching, for he saw her and gave a small nod before turning his attention back to the billiard table.

He must have suggested billiards after finishing in the collection room.

Felix could be depended on. Adaline’s heart swelled at the thought.

Adaline made her way upstairs to the nursery, where Melody greeted her with enthusiasm. “Mummy, have you come to take me painting? Mrs. Rodgers said you sent to say we would be going out. Is it time? Are we going now? I have my bonnet and my painting satchel ready. Shall I fetch them?”

She rushed off at her mother’s nod of agreement, and Adaline exchanged a smile with Mrs. Rodgers, the governess who ruled the Stillwater schoolroom, and who had agreed to take Melody under her wing during the house party.

“She is very excited,” Mrs. Rodgers said, and then chuckled. “I did not need to tell you that, for you can see for yourself.”

Adaline had arranged with Mrs. Stillwater to have refreshments set out in the little folly by the ornamental lake that formed the focal point in the vista from the southern windows of the manor house.

Adaline helped Melody set up her easel and then left Melody to don a pinafore to protect her clothes, lay out her paints and set up her paper, while she then took a seat in the folly, facing back the way they’d come so that she would see Felix, who was going to join them.

But first, she needed to prepare Melody for the changes to come. “Melody, darling, there is something important I need to say to you, and I need to ask you to keep it secret. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can,” said Melody, with more confidence than Adaline thought was warranted. But the secrecy was just for convenience. Everyone would know soon enough. “Do you remember the Duke of Kempbury?” she said.

“Yes, of course, Mummy.”

Ah . There he was, coming down the stairs from the terrace. Still too far away for her to see his face, but she still recognized him—recognized the way he moved.

“I knew him a long time ago, and now that we have met again, he would like to marry me, Melody. Marry us .”

Melody put down the charcoal she was using to block out the scene before her, as she had been taught, and turned to face Adaline. “Marry us? As in, he would be your husband and my father?”

“Yes, dearest.”

Melody turned back to the easel and resumed her blocking. “Would you like to marry him?” she asked.

“Yes, I would. Very much.”

“We have been happy, just the two of us,” Melody commented, her voice contemplative.

Adaline’s heart sank. If Melody was adamantly against the marriage, how could Adaline go ahead? “We have,” she agreed.

“But I should like a baby,” Melody said. “You said you could not have a baby unless you married again. Would the duke like you to have a baby, Mummy?”

“Perhaps several,” Adaline said. In the distance, Felix stopped and raised his arm in a wave. He had seen them. Adaline waved back.

“Also,” said Melody—she was squinting at the paper as she added a detail—“Also, Mummy, I shall be grown up one day. In seven years, perhaps. Or eight. I will find a husband and go to live with him. If you like the duke and he likes you, you will not be lonely.”

“That is true,” said Adaline, her heart filled with wonder that her little girl was so concerned about her mother’s future happiness. It was an unusual trait in a child. Melody was truly a special girl. “Here is the duke, Melody. He wanted to talk to you, so I asked him to meet us here.”

Felix rounded the folly and greeted the girl. “Good afternoon, Miss Beverley.”

Melody curtseyed. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Mummy says that you want to marry her.” Felix’s brows shot up, and his lips twitched as if he was suppressing a grin at Melody’s dignified statement.

His expression remained grave but his eyes danced as he said, “I do. Very much. I love your mother, Miss Beverley.”

Adaline’s eyes narrowed and she met his gaze with a solemn look far too adult for her little face. “You do? Well. That is very good. Mummy deserves to be loved. I love her, of course, but I am all she has had for a long time now, and I worry about her.”

Felix went down on one knee and took one of Melody’s hands in his own.

Adaline’s heart melted at the sight of their interaction.

It was everything of which she’d ever dreamed.

“I will make it my life’s work to cherish your mother as my own dear love, and you, too, as my daughter, if you will allow me to do so. ”

“Your daughter ?” Melody repeated. “I do not remember my own father. He died a long time ago. I think I would like a father.”

Adaline felt a catch in her throat and moisture in her eyes.

“That is most convenient,” Felix said, seriously. “For I should like a daughter, Miss Beverley. Especially if she is exactly like you.”

“I think, then,” said Melody, “that you should call me Melody. I shall call you ‘Father’ after the wedding. Will you come to live with us, or shall we live with you?”

“May I be seated?” Felix asked, rising with a wince as his knee crackled. “Come and sit beside me on the steps here, Melody, and I shall tell you all about the homes we shall live in.”

The lump in Adaline’s throat drew larger as she watched their two heads close together. To her, the resemblance between them was obvious. No doubt, others would also notice. I must speak with Felix about telling Melody the truth before somebody else does .

This conversation had turned out better than Adaline expected, but telling Melody that Felix was her actual father was likely to be much more difficult.

Or perhaps not, for Felix was promising her a pony of her own as soon as she could show she was a competent rider, and lessons so she might achieve that happy state as quickly as possible.

He had already referred questions about a kitten and a puppy to the higher authority of Melody’s mother, so she suppressed her instinctive indignation at someone else making decisions about her daughter without consulting her.

Perhaps he thought that the stable was his domain.

Certainly, the conditions he was putting in place were fair and reasonable.

“Did you hear, Mummy?” Melody said, turning to see her watching.

“When His Grace is my father, I am to have a pony.” She paused, her face scrunched in thought.

“I think it should be a lively gray pony and I will name her Misty and tie pink ribbons in her tail. Or blue, if Misty is a boy, but I think a girl would be better, for I am a girl.” She nodded in satisfaction.

“We will live in our country seat, Willowbank Close.” She shot a glance at Felix as she pronounced the name, and he nodded his approval.

“We shall live at Willowbank Close for part of each year,” Melody continued, “but if I like riding, and I am sure that I shall, His Grace says that arrangements will be made for when we are not at The Close. What does that mean, Your Grace, ‘arrangements will be made’?”

“If we are staying somewhere for a short time, and there is no suitable pony in the stables, Melody, we shall hire or borrow a pony,” Felix explained, quite unbothered about being interrogated on the matter by a nine-year-old.

“If we are staying in another place for some time, and it is close enough for your pony to be brought to us, we shall do that. Or we could buy you another one, but that pony would be sad if we go away again for a long time.”

Melody frowned. “That would be bad,” she said. “Could we let it be used by, or perhaps given to, to a child who does not have a father? She would be so very, very happy, Your Grace.”

A child like Melody, she meant, and Felix understood her meaning, because his smile was wistful. “We shall decide at the time, my dear girl,” he said.

After a few more questions about what Melody’s life might be like as the daughter of a duke and his duchess, Melody went back to her painting, and Felix came to sit by Adaline.

“Did I do wrong, darling, offering Melody a pony?” Felix asked.

“Not at all,” Adaline told him, forgetting her momentary irritation. “As long as she has lessons, I am thrilled she will have her own pony.”

“I was mistaken then,” Felix said. “I thought I had offended you.”

Felix was disturbingly acute. “I apologize for that,” Adaline said. “For a moment, I was uncomfortable that someone else was making such an important decision. Felix, you have every right to buy your daughter such a present.”