Page 9 of The Lyon’s Dilemma (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #86)

“But I should discuss such things with you,” he said. “All things that affect our family.” He had been very serious, but on the last word a grin spread across his face. “Our family ,” he repeated. “We are a family. Oh, Adaline, I do not believe I have ever been happier in my life.”

His smile ignited hers. “I am just the same,” she assured him. It was, indeed, a dream come true.

The afternoon passed quickly, and eventually it was time to pack up the painting equipment, being careful not to smudge Melody’s artwork.

Melody returned to the schoolroom bubbling like an overheated kettle, and it was not surprising that the news that Adaline was to marry Felix clearly boiled over and flooded the junior set, and from them spread to the adults.

When she came down to wait in the parlor for dinner, Adaline soon realized people were talking about her, and the way they looked from her to Felix told her the topic. “Felix, I think Melody has let the cat out of the bag,” she said.

Felix looked at her, his eyes concerned. “Do you mind?” he asked. “I am happy for everyone to know.”

“I would rather have told Mrs. Dove Lyon myself,” Adaline said. “I have signed a contract. She could be difficult if she wishes.”

“I am convinced she chose me for you,” Felix reminded her. “And if she makes a fuss, I shall pay her enough to make her happy again.”

How simple things were when one was a wealthy duke.

Mrs. Stillwater approached when Felix went to fetch Adaline a drink. “Is it true? Did the Duke of Kempbury really ask you to marry him?”

“It is,” said Felix, coming up behind the lady, “And I did. Fortunately, Mrs. Beverley said ‘yes,’ and so did her daughter, so we are to be married.”

How Adaline loved the dear man! And she had to admit to a little pleasure in the hastily disguised chagrin displayed by most of the single female guests, their mothers, and the occasional merry widow.

Lord Stillwater kept his distance, and no one could have told by his demeanor that he had had his own plans for Adaline.

Dinner was not too bad. The men assigned to the seats on either side of her had little interest in her prospective marriage, and were happy to take her invitation to talk about what interested them.

One bored her throughout the entire first remove with stories of his stable. She liked horses as well as the next woman, but the man droned on. And on.

The other made the second remove interesting with tales of the Roman relics dug up at his estate, and his speculations about the lives of the men and women who had known the objects before they were lost to time.

He was a fascinating speaker, and brought that far-distant past alive in her imagination.

The parlor after dinner was another matter. One of the downcast mothers set the tone, asking, “Were you not betrothed to the duke once before, Mrs. Beverley? Before your marriage, that is, when you were Miss Fairbanks?”

Adaline would not deny it. “Yes, Mrs. Penworth, I was.”

“I heard about that,” said another of the women with a sly, sharp look at Adaline. “One cannot help but think it rash for a woman to dally with Richport when she had Kempbury on her line.”

No point in telling the cats that the woman with Richport had been Emmeline. They would not believe her, and it would only cause more talk. “It would have been, had I done so,” Adaline replied. “Not merely rash, but completely idiotic. Kempbury is by far the better man.”

“Even if she did, dear,” said Mrs. Penworth in an aside to her friend that was meant to be heard, “at least Kempbury had decided to ignore it. And if there were adverse consequences—well, it could have been either of them. Her daughter was born quite soon after the marriage, and is fair, like both dukes. Beverley was dark-haired was he not? But green eyes, dear. Richport’s are blue, of course. Yes, I think the girl is Kempbury’s.”

“One hopes you will be able to retain his interest for longer this time, Mrs. Beverley,” said a lady who clearly hoped quite the opposite. The conversation continued in the same vein, with one barbed remark after another and Mrs. Stillwater doing nothing to turn the topic and provide support.

Then the men joined the ladies and Felix came to her side and took her hand.

“We were just saying to Mrs. Beverley,” said Mrs. Penworth, “that we hope her second betrothal to you lasts longer than the first.” She smiled sweetly, but her hard eyes glittered.

“I doubt it will,” said Felix. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back.

“The wedding will be as soon as we can possibly contrive, for I am anxious to make up for lost time. The misunderstanding from years ago has cost me ten years without my duchess at my side, as my hostess, my chatelaine, my partner, and my friend.”

While his words were pleasant, the look he gave Mrs. Penworth and her friends put them on notice that those who offended Adaline had better remember she would soon be the Duchess of Kempbury and far outrank them all.

Adaline had needed to be reminded of that, too.

She was marrying Felix, but the title came as part of the package, and she would need to do Felix credit in the role—“my duchess, my hostess, my chatelaine”, he had said.

The thought distracted her, and she soon made her excuses and said her good nights.

Felix escorted her upstairs, whipping her into the nearest convenient alcove.

She went eagerly, expecting a kiss, but the one she received was merely a peck on the nose.

“What is worrying you, darling?” Felix asked.

“Is it those cats downstairs? They will soon change their tune when you are my duchess.”

“Felix,” it came out far more like a wail than she intended. “I don’t know how to be your duchess or your chatelaine, or the kind of hostess that a duke requires.”

“Neither will the little fools fresh to the marriage market I was expected to marry,” said Felix. “Even when you were nineteen, you had more sense than any of them, and now you have run a business, raised a daughter, taken charge of your own life. Everything can be learned, darling.”

Her momentary panic subsided as she listened to his comforting voice, and—even more—felt the comfort of his hands stroking her back and flanks, softly but firmly, over and over.

“Who will I learn from,” she objected. “Your stepmother will not teach me.”

“My stepmother will not be allowed near you. Adaline, I have friends whose wives will welcome you into their lives—at first for my sake and soon for your own. They will be able to help you.”

He wrapped her in his embrace and kissed the top of her head. “But truly, love, I will tell you what a very wise young lady once told me when I was afraid. Stepmother had been telling me ever since my father died that I would never be the duke that he was, and that I was doomed to fail.”

Yes! Adaline remembered. When they first met, he had just passed his majority.

He had been kept from the business of the duchy by his trustees and guardians.

Having discovered the mess they had made of his affairs, he had been determined to take over, but what he didn’t know had loomed like a great tall mountain that he had to demolish before he could truly be duke.

“That young lady told me I should learn from those I trusted, by all means, but that I didn’t have to be the kind of duke my father was.

I was the duke, whether my stepmother and her allies liked it or not.

I would be the duke and the rest of the world had better learn to accept the kind of duke I chose to be, for the title was mine, and the wealth, and the power. ”

It was me , Adaline realized. I said that .

“You shall be duchess, because you will be my wife,” Felix told her. “You shall be the kind of duchess you choose to be. Also the kind of hostess and chatelaine. And that kind will be the right kind. For the title will be yours, my love, and all the wealth and the power I have will also be yours.”

When Felix returned downstairs, Lord Stillwater provided an excellent excuse for them to leave the house party before it was over, because of how he had been drinking heavily since before dinner.

“So, the Beverley bitch trapped you, eh, Kempbury?” he said, in an overly-loud voice that fell into a natural lull in the conversation like a cannon ball, silencing everyone in the room.

“My future duchess has been good enough to accept my proposal,” Felix responded, coldly.

“Must be a good lay,” Stillwater declared, ignoring his son’s frantic efforts to silence him. “I had a go at her myself—a widow, you know. Nothing wrong with that. She had bigger game in mind, of course. Hope you know what you’re doing. Once bitten, am I right?”

“You are being offensive, Lord Stillwater.” Felix knew how to invest his words with so much ice that the onlookers shivered.

“Give thanks for your gray hairs and the fact that you are drunk, or I would take you outside and flay some manners into you.” He turned to address the man’s son, “Stillwater, I suggest a couple of footmen to see this sot to bed.”

“This is my house, you young fool,” the viscount declared in the over-confident way of drunken men. “If you do not like what I say, then leave.”

“With all due respect to your daughter-in-law, who has been an exemplary hostess, and to your son, I shall leave,” said Felix.

“In fact, Mrs. Beverley and I shall both take our leave of you in the morning, Mrs. Stillwater. I cannot stay under a roof where my future duchess is open to such insult. I will take it very unkindly—” he paused to look around the room, catching the eye of anyone who was bold enough to face him—“very unkindly indeed, if Stillwater’s assertions are shared with people who are not here.

And now, I will bid the company good evening. ”

A duke’s unkind distain was not to be sought after, and several people stopped him on his way to the door to assure him that his duchess had their complete support.

Mr. Stillwater and his wife were both up early in the morning to see them off. Felix felt sorry for Mrs. Stillwater, who was obviously embarrassed still and very apologetic, but defending her was her husband’s task. As for him, Felix would never let anyone disparage his Adaline ever again.