Page 77 of Rogue Lyon

“That’s a long story.”

“I have time for it.” She shrugged. “And I am beyond curious.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Are you regretting your actions?” she asked.

“No.” He snapped his head up to look at her. “Not being with Miss Jones and taking her to Paris, no—she loved it. Every moment. She is intelligent and energetic, and a delight to be with. I enjoyed myself all the more seeing it through her eyes.” He paused. “What I do regret is that I have landed her in hot water. I dare say my reputation will survive, but hers…”

“It’s true. She couldn’t be more tarnished.”

He frowned. “Whatever should we do?”

“‘We’?” She shook her finger at him. “Not we. What should you do, Mr. Habsburg? What should you do to undo the damage you have done to an innocent young woman’s reputation?”

Heat crawled up his back, over his neck, and tickled his scalp. “I did suggest…”

“What?”

“I did suggest that she be my mistress.” His cheek flushed, where Meredith had slapped him.

Jules then jumped as Mrs. Dove-Lyon slammed a book on her desk closed and stared at him.

“Why, of all the…” she said icily.

“I thought it would be a solution for both of us.” He held out his hands.

“A solution that doesn’t include a real marriage, but you get a pretty woman in your bed permanently. I hope she gave you hell for the suggestion.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Yes, she did actually, but… But it wasn’t for that reason at all. The bedchamber thing. I like being with her. I want to be with her.” He paused. “When I am with her, I forget about the things that usually vex me. I smile more than I ever thought possible. She challenges me and captivates me and I believe that makes me happy.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded slowly, as though taking all of this in. “And so why did you ask her to be a mistress and not your wife?”

“I… I am not the marrying sort, so I’ve been told. And my father, he had a mistress. It suited him well—I saw that with my own eyes. I thought it would work for me.”

He tapped his fingers together and waited for her to speak.

“How do you feel when you see another man admiring her? She looked most becoming tonight in a new gown.”

“I don’t like it.” He shook his head and scowled. “Not one bit.” And he didn’t; something in his core told him that.

“Because you want her for yourself?”

“Yes.” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon was quiet for a moment. “Mr. Habsburg. Tell me more about your family.”

“Well.” He puffed up his chest. “As you know, the Habsburg name is synonymous with power and wealth and great piety and I’m sure you—”

“Yes, yes, I know about the Habsburg dynasty, for I am a well-read woman, but please, your ancestors took a different route, or so I am led to believe. What I asked is tell me about your family. Your parents, your siblings.”

He frowned. “I am sure it is well-known that my mother died in childbirth with me, and I have no siblings.”

“And how do you think that has affected you?”

“I don’t follow. Apologies.”

She sighed. “Okay, I will explain. You have never seen a man fall in love, have you?”