Page 34 of Always the Lyon Tamer
“I will marry who I wish, Father, and I wish in this moment that you would stop pestering me about it!” she said with a little fire. “I am well aware of my age and the increasing numbers of young ladies entering society, but I can neither stop them nor propose to a gentleman. If you love me, you will leave this subject alone.”
There was silence in the drawing room, save for the crackling of the fire.
“Rebecca,” said her father eventually, his eyes wide. “I did not know you had it within you to be so direct.”
Direct?Rebecca had never considered herself a direct woman. That was always something she had aspired to, but her chattering, nervous tongue had always meandered around a topic so long, most people had no idea what she was attempting to say.
There was a brash taste in her mouth, and only after a moment of introspection did she realize it was…anger.
Anger at her father?No, it was all directed at herself. She had done precisely what she had just told her father she could never do, and look how that had ended up?
John, the Lion of the Lennoxes, now knew her affection for him, that she had willingly ruined herself, given up her innocence to tempt him into matrimony.
If only he had not been so disappointed when he had seen her.
“I am sorry, Father,” she said quietly. “I do not mean to be so direct. I do not know what has gotten into me.”
When she looked up, however, Mr. Darby was not upset. Quite the opposite, he was grinning.
“It was like your mother was here, for a moment,” he said gently.
“Mother? She was—well, quiet. Shy, retiring.”
Her father nodded. “Yes, most of the time. But when the occasion demanded it, she was like a lioness when crossed. Your mother had fire within her, a fire I rarely saw, but when I did…”
His voice trailed away, and Rebecca saw a tear trickle down his cheek. Mr. Darby wiped his eyes.
“I think I will go to bed. I am most tired,” he said quietly.
Rebecca’s mouth was still open, and she wished to ask more about her mother, about the woman she could barely remember—but it clearly pained her father. In a way, it pained her, too.
“I will leave you by the fire,” Mr. Darby said as he rose to his feet.
Rebecca nodded, unable to speak, and was left alone.
John.It was only now she was in solitude that she could really give him much more thought.
She had felt so brave, so bold when she had her mask on. When John did not know who she was. When the reveal was still far away, and she could indulge in being the person she had always wished to be.
Was that a part of her mother within her, starting to show itself? Was there a little more fire in her than she had ever known?
The Lyon’s Den. There was something about that place, something she did not understand. It had given her confidence.
Whatever it was, Rebecca was determined to be that person more often. It was her true self. She knew it. She owed it to herself to be happy, even if John did not want her.
Chapter Eleven
If he weren’tcareful, John was going to see his luncheon all over again in the opposite direction. His stomach squirmed, and he placed a hand over it in the hope it would calm down.
’Tis just nerves,John thought as he tried to force down the worries creeping up into his heart. All he had to do was stay calm.How hard could it be?
Rebecca Darby, in that mask, that gown. Rebecca Darby, out of them…
He had not understood himself, and he had certainly not understood her, but all that was behind him now. He had to leave it there, or he would not have the courage to do what he must do this evening.
It had been a challenge, even for him. The battlefield did not hold as much terror as the Lyon’s Den, not after what he had experienced there. Not after what he had lost there.
But he had to come. Fool, though he was, he had harnessed all his self-control and battled his shyness to come here this evening, in preparation for—
