Page 13 of A Lyon’s Lesson

When his tongue invaded her mouth, she made a noise in her throat, and his hand on the small of her back moved lower and squeezed her bottom in the most inappropriately delicious fashion. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had been right. Lord Kenrick couldn’t resist her in this dress. And she couldn’t resist him.

The heat from his body penetrated her flimsy gown, and she felt something hard and hot pressing into her belly. She knew enough to know what that was, and her body responded, as she kissed him back with renewed and deepened passion. This! This is what I have longed for. To be wanted and desired . . .

The door opened to admit Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Cecey and Kenrick sprang apart like guilty lovers.

“I’m glad to see you getting along!” she said with a smirk in her voice. “Lord Kenrick, I’m going to take your bride away now and dress her respectably for her return to her uncle’s house. A notice of your approaching nuptials will appear in tomorrow’s Gazette. Theseus will see you out.” She nodded to the other door where the man Cecey had seen before waited patiently. She flinched away, aware of her near naked state, but the man wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on Kenrick, who bowed to her and kissed her hand formally.

“Until we meet again, Diana.” he said with that cheeky smile. He nodded also to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, but he didn’t smile at her.

Cecey watched him leave the room and a little ache in her chest followed him.

“I told you the dress would work.”

Cecey turned to her hostess. “Yes, you were right.” She swallowed. “I suppose I must thank you.”

“Certainly, you must. You will be Lady Kenrick Layne within a fortnight. Come, let’s get you dressed and home.”

Chapter 6

Rick, to his dismay, discovered that it wasn’t just a matter of leaving it to his brother and Cecelia’s uncle and that organizing a wedding in two weeks was actually a gargantuan task that fell on the shoulders of a number of members of his family as well as himself.

The first task he discovered, when his brother dragged him out of bed the next morning, was to pay a call upon Monk and discuss something called settlements. One of the things Rick had overlooked in all the drama was that Cecelia was a considerable heiress. Which was of course why Bidenden had targeted her. The slimy toad!

Sitting across from Robert in the ducal carriage on their way to Curzon St., he was subjected to one of his brother’s lectures.

“I am of course heartened to discover that you have come to your senses, Rick. I wish that things could have proceeded in a less scrambling way, but it makes perfect sense to get the wedding done quickly given the scandal. Between you and Ravenshaw, Heather’s come out is almost entirely ruined. Fortunately, I believe we may be able to button up Ravenshaw’s business neatly with minimal damage. And now that we can tidy you up too, I’m hopeful things can return to some semblance of normality by the end of the season, and we can begin again for Heather.”

Rick nodded, for what else could he do? He did feel more than a twinge of guilt for causing Heather any grief. Not that she had said a word about it when he saw her. She was far too sweet and unselfish to do so. But it was typical that Robert should be fired up in her defense. It was no secret in the family that Heather was his favorite.

“Now,” said Rob, leaning forward with a smile. He grasped Rick’s bony knee and squeezed. “You do realize you’re about to become a rich man, don’t you?”

Rick blinked at him, dragging his thoughts out of uncharacteristically melancholy channels. “I am?”

Rob gave him a quizzical expression. “Yes, longshanks, you are! Well, I can’t accuse you of being mercenary. Although the ton is having a field day suggesting you did it deliberately to get your hands on her money.”

Rick stiffened and said tightly. “I did not.”

“I know you didn’t, brother. It is obvious to me that you haven’t even thought about her not inconsiderable fortune. She has an estate in Bedfordshire, you know. It will probably be for the best if you go there for the honeymoon and stay away from London until the scandal fades.”

Rick’s heart sank. He did not, on the whole, enjoy the country. It was all right for sporting activities such as fishing, shooting, and hunting, but he had a suspicion he would be immured in Bedfordshire with only Cecelia for company, and he could see months of boredom stretching before him.

By the time they had sat down with Monk and gone over the details, Rick realized it was all far worse than he had thought. Well, he hadn’t thought at all, which was part of the problem.

The saving grace seemed to be that the estate was under the management of a steward, so he wouldn’t have to do too much, but the whole idea of being responsible for a household of servants and tenants gave him cold shivers. That word responsible.

Rob was watching him carefully, and Rick clenched his jaw. Of course he would expect him to fail. He forced himself to listen as Rob and Monk discussed the details of the marriage settlements. When they began talking about dowries and endowments for his children, he felt something inside him shift, and for a moment he was watching himself sitting there with these two other men talking about a life, a future that couldn’t possibly be his.

Jerked back into his body he took a deep breath and said, “How much did you say would be Cecelia’s portion?”

“In the event of your death without an heir of your body, ten thousand pounds a year and the dower house for life. You can will the estate to whomever you like.”

“I will leave it to her. Why should she be turfed out of her home just because I died?”

Monk raised his eyebrows. “Well, you could, I suppose—it’s not entailed property—but it’s quite irregular. A woman is not fitted for such heavy burdens.”

Rob threw him a look and said quietly, “That is a good thought, Rick. I’m sure something can be arranged. You don’t currently have a will, do you?”

“No. I’ve not seen the need,” he admitted. Responsibility.