Page 52 of Lyon on the Loose

“She sketches, too, exquisitely. Portraits, landscapes, buildings—”

“I know. I have seen a few—Beatrice showed me when she was here last, staying with her cousin Sarah. Both ladies thought them admirable. I expected them to be biased, but when I looked, I couldn’t help but notice the quality. Therefore, I would like to commission a few images of the London parks, including Vauxhall, to decorate the ladies’ rooms at the Lyon’s Den.”

“She’ll be delighted to hear it. Thank you! It will stop her fretting too much about the preparations for our wedding.”

Anything that made Lissy happy would make him happy, too, and the extra income wouldn’t go amiss if they were to set up their own establishment.

Roland bowed his way out of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office, his mind buzzing with delight, his heart full of glorious expectations. For once, the Hon. Roland Chetwynd, younger brother to the Earl of Aylsham, had done something right.

And because of Lissy, he intended to keep doing so—for the rest of his life.

Epilogue

If anyone had told Felicity Ashby—now Felicity Chetwynd—that married life would feel as if she were made of pure sunlight, she would never have believed them.

And yet here she was just a few days later, sitting in the drawing room of the Aylsham townhouse on George Street and feeling radiant. She was quite certain the walls of the building had absorbed her happiness, for every time Roland entered a room, the air filled with his presence.

Outside, London hummed and bustled. Inside, the world consisted of nothing but the soft crackle of the fire, the exotic scent of some very expensive hothouse flowers, and the knowledge that her husband would soon return from a hasty meeting with his brother, the earl. There had been much to do before they departed on their bridal trip, but hopefully everything was now in readiness.

All would be well; she was sure of it. She adored her new brother-in-law, and his delightful wife, Araminta. Leo Chetwynd might seem stern and cold on first acquaintance, but the façade concealed a heart of gold and a quick intelligence that she found immensely appealing.

She smoothed her traveling gown and did another check of the luggage cluttering the hallway of the townhouse. They were to depart for Norfolk shortly, to stay at the Aylsham country seat at Brampton Hall, and she couldn’t wait to start her first journey as a married lady. She pressed a hand over her heart to still its fluttering. Nothing was going to go wrong now—they’d put all that behind them. Sutton and Treadwell had been transported to Australia, with not a word of scandal attached to Lissy’s name, and Roland had marched into White’s, torn up the wager sheet, told them all what he thought of them, and resigned his membership. It probably meant they would become social pariahs, but in truth, she could not have been prouder.

A footstep paused outside the parlor door.

Her breath caught—he was home!

Roland entered, his hair adorably tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it. Which he only did when in the throes of some powerful emotion.

“Lissy,” he said softly.

Her whole body thrilled. “Yes, my love?”

His gaze sent ripples of heat along her veins. “I have something for you. A wedding gift. I apologize for not having given it to you sooner, but I wanted the moment to be right. No distractions, that kind of thing.”

Her heart somersaulted. “Roland, I don’t need anything—just you.”

“I’m flattered.” The firelight gilded the planes of his face, outlined the breadth of his smile. “But still—I am returning what you believed to be a family heirloom.”

From behind his back, he brought out a familiar inlaid box, its clasp glinting in the firelight.

“Roland,” she whispered, her hand shaking as she accepted it. “What have you done?”

Perhaps there was some mistake. But no; nestled inside the box lay the sapphire-and-diamond necklace. The necklace. The one that had started everything.

Her lips parted. “But—how? Mama—Mrs. Dove-Lyon—”

“I bought it,” he said simply, but she heard his slight catch of breath.

“You—bought—” She stared up at him, struggling to find the right words. “Roland, that must have cost a fortune.”

“The cost is nothing for you to worry about. Before you say anything, I swear I didn’t win the money by gambling—I appreciate your feelings on the matter. Fortunately, my new business partner insists on paying me handsomely.”

“Your—what?”

A spark of pride lit his eyes. “Leo.”

“You’re partners?”