Page 43 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

“I won’t. Not without leaving a note.” His lips kicked up into a smile.

Her hands grabbed his lapels and she consumed him with a kiss.

Epilogue

“Do you twoneed the room?” Arabella asked archly as she peered over the rim of her teacup eyeing her sister. “Alone?”

“No. We’re good. Here. With you.” To think it all started with Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s match and her subsequent missives. Where would she be without them? Amelia patted Benedict’s roaming hand on her hip. She thought he was being discreet, but apparently he wasn’t. Lightly, she pinched the skin on the top of his hand and gave him an eye. To which he responded with by sitting up a little straighter. And just an inch or so away from her. Not much space, but her whole body could feel it.

“I can’t believe father’s business trip took so long,” Arabella mused aloud.

The small nudge against Amelia’s side prompted her to tilt her head and give Benedict a side eye.

“Don’t you think you should tell her?” he whispered, not receiving her subtle message of ignoring him. That, or ignoring her ignoring him.

“No. He didn’t want me to tell her.”

With a quizzical glance, not a trifle too irritated, Arabella inquired, “What are you two whispering about over there?”

“Nothing.”

“Your father.”

The two said.

“What about him?” the younger sister asked.

Amelia huffed out a sigh. “I suppose I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m only saying this now because I know that I would want to know so that I could prepare. Something. Though at this point, I don’t know what you’re going to do. I don’t see many options.”

“Amelia, what’s going on?”

Her shoulders wanted to sag, but she refused their request. “Father didn’t go away on business.”

“I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Yes, well…” Amelia twiddled her thumbs and flicked at a piece of lint on her sleeve. “I’m not sure what you’ll make out of all of it.”

“All of what?”

“He’s bringing you home a husband.”

Arabella flew to her feet. Teacup dropping to the settee. Plate and biscuits flying all over the rug. “He’s what?”

“It’s why I went to the Lyon’s Den. I was desperate to save you. In more than one way.”

“What are you talking about? I’m facing scandal. How much worse could it get?”

Amelia held her head still. Not wanting to move. Not wanting to rock the boat any more than she had. The news was only about to get worse, and she really did not want to be the bearer of it.

Arabella stamped her foot and waved her arms in an outstretched manner. Almost like a cross. “What is it, Amelia? I know there’s more. You must tell me.”

And at this point, her head was too heavy. She let it drop to her hands, propped by elbows on her thighs. Benedict’s hand rubbed a small circle on her back.

With a deep breath, she canted her head up and locked eyes with Arabella. “It’s Nicholas.”