Page 75 of Rogue Lyon

And standing there, in top hat and tails, stood Mr. Delaware, the man whom he had last seen in Paris and introduced to his pretend wife.

Hell’s bells!

Jules’s stomach did a flip and his mouth dried. This was a pickle for him, that was true, but Meredith… This would upset her monumentally.

And he was right. She clasped her hand over her mouth, and with wide, doe eyes, fled from the room. The crowd parted for her and a rising crescendo of excited chatter followed her footfalls.

“Mr. Habsburg,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said briskly. “I believe you have some explaining to do.”

Jules mashed his lips together and glared at Mr. Delaware. Of all the damn nights for him to turn up at the Lyon’s Den. It just had to have been this one. And much as Jules had expected trouble from him at some point for buying the François Gérard from right beneath his nose, this he hadn’t anticipated.

Chapter Eighteen

Meredith was sure she’d be sick when she saw Mr. Delaware looking straight at her.

Of all the luck, the one person to whom they’d lied so blatantly was here, listening, as their true relationship of student and teacher was laid bare.

She didn’t dare look at Jules as he thanked her; it was as if her instincts knew everything was about to come crashing down. All her lies, her sins, her last scraps of social standing in the ton were about to be blasted into the scandal of the season.

And then he’d said it. For all to hear.

Words that couldn’t be taken back.

Ever.

Everyone knew she’d been introduced as Jules’s wife now—and what that likely meant they’d been up to in Paris.

A cry caught in her throat and her limbs shook with the need to escape.

She ran. Fast.

“Meredith. Wait.”

Nancy’s voice followed her, but Meredith didn’t stop. She kept on running, dashing through the ladies’ gaming room and all the way to the servants’ stairs. Once there, she scooped up her heavy, velvet hem and dashed up as fast as she could. She had to get away. Escape. Run. Pretend none of this had ever happened.

Except it had.

Footfalls were following her, several pairs by the sound of it.

She hoped it wasn’t Jules. She had no desire to see the man who had caused her world to crash down, no matter how handsome he was.

On arriving at her attic room, she barged in and threw herself face-down onto the bed. Tears came hot and fast and she balled her fists and thumped the mattress.

“Meredith, please don’t upset yourself.” Nancy’s voice.

“This is all a mistake. Please don’t cry.” It was Bethany; she’d obviously followed Nancy up the stairs. “The man must have had a blow to the head.”

“But…” Meredith turned. Her cheeks wet and flushed and her nose dripping. “But it’s not…”

“What?” Bethany’s eyes widened. “What on earth do you mean, ‘it’s not’?”

Nancy shook her head and sighed. “Here goes…”

“I went to Paris with him,” Meredith admitted. “I lied to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I said I was going to Wales to see my mother and then went gallivanting to Paris with the biggest rake and scoundrel the ton has ever seen.”

“I would agree there.” Nancy shook her head.

“But…I mean, that is very bold…” Bethany’s eyes were wide.