Page 131 of A Lyon's Tangled Tale
“Ah. In that case, you’re welcome. In truth, I needed the break from my father and yours. Who would have known Lord Belfry would wish to spend every waking minute—both his and mine—volunteering at hospital?”
“You, my darling. He’s like a different person since he began helping the veterans—all thanks to you.”
“I don’t know about that. I merely believed—hoped—honoring his son’s memory in that way might help alleviate the pain he’s been trying to mask.”
She snuggled into him. “Drake deserves honoring. All the men do, for their sacrifice.”
“They do. In truth, your father was never a bad sort, just…”
“Selfish?” she put in.
“And avoidant. But not unfeeling. That prize goes to the earl. Good Lord, when he showed up to the hospital several months ago out of the blue to do the rounds with your father and me, I wouldn’t have believed it was him, had I not seen the man with my own two eyes. In all my life I never knew him to have a philanthropic bone in his body—or an ounce of interest for what interested me, his son and heir.”
She lifted her head to fold her hand on his chest and dropped her chin onto it. “He seems to have turned over a new leaf following the debacle with your cousin and Catherine and—”
“And having me locked up, then escaping—thanks to the machinations of my clever little fake wife—in time to save him? Yes, it would seem he has changed, to some degree, at least. He’s…trying. He says he wants to be part of his grandchildren’s lives.” He blew air out of his cheeks as if the notion that his father actually cared for him stymied him.
Abruptly, she replayed his last words. “Grandchildren, you said, as in multiple?”
His twinkling caramel-colored eyes met hers. “I might’ve mentioned to the earl how much the idea of several miniature Georginas running around appeals to me.”
So much love filled her heart that it began to leak out the corners of her eyes.
“None of that, now, Lady Arlington.” He swiped his thumb over the salty droplets on either side of her face, and huffed out a wry chuckle. “I admit I might have been attempting to chase him from the room by my vulgar display of plebeian emotion.”
“And did you succeed?” she whispered, tracing her fingertips over the emerging stubble on his cheek.
Bemusement filled his melted-caramel eyes as they met hers. “He said he rather liked the idea of a girl and a boy—and a chance to right the wrongs he did me, his only son.”
“Oh, my darling. My dearest love.”
“I won’t let him mistreat our children, Georgina,” he said, his tone going steely.
“Of course you won’t,” she said. “I have no doubt but that you will be a magnificent father.”
“I meant it, you know, about wanting daughters, like you. I wouldn’t mind a son, though. We could name him Drake.’”
She’d thought she could not love him more. But it turned out her love for him increased by leaps and bounds, daily. “Yes,” she choked. Then, like a bolt of lightning from above, an idea flared to life inside her and she sat bolt upright.
Teddy, looking alarmed, jolted from the soft to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He surveyed her from head to toe, eyes wide.
She sent him a beatific smile. “I know who’s clamoring inside me for his own stories to be told.”
Teddy sagged as if weak with profound relief and lowered back onto the sofa beside her. “Indeed? Well? Who is it, then?”
“His name is Lord Leopold Drakus.”
He arched a brow at her. “Drakus? Really? And does he have curly dark hair, a devil-may-care smile, and a streak of integrity a mile wide?”
“How did you know?” She rose from the sofa and began to pace. “He’s an officer of the king’s army, deemed lost in battle, but who, in reality, woke up to find himself a captive in a beautiful woman’s home.”
Teddy gave her a fond smile. “I take it, a romance ensues?”
“But of course,” she answered and strode for her desk, as the outline for the new book began writing itself in her head.
It had not escaped her that she had written Teddy’s and her stories, only to have them come true, and she doubted Teddy had not reached the same conclusion. But Drake’s body had never been recovered. It stood to reason, he could be out there, somewhere, living his life, happy. And one day, perhaps very soon, he would return to them.
And they would be one big, happy family.
Teddy rose, moved to her desk and planted a kiss atop her head. “Happy writing, my love.”
Quill in hand, she tilted her head back and gazed up at him with unabashed love.
His smile turned utterly indulgent and he bent to grasp the velvet ribbons that had previously tightened her bodice. “Before I reopen the door and Mr. Danvers comes in to reassure himself that you and the babe are hale and hardy, perhaps we should right your bodice, Lady Arlington,hmm?”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. She had completely forgotten the state of her dishabille.
Teddy laughed his wicked laugh, and then, he kissed her.
The End
