It was a voice Addy was determined to ignore.
CHAPTER 9
As he had so frequently over the last thirteen days, Lion was once again hiding in his study. But no amount of poring over ledgers, reports, and correspondence could sufficiently distract him.
Two days filled with his sisters, aunt and uncle, Addy, and her aunt Pearl had proven rather akin to a boiling pot that was rapidly overflowing, making a mess of everything. Too many voices, too much excitement. Too many people suddenly descending upon his household when he had arisen that morning with the intention of asking Addy for her hand in marriage and righting the wrongs he had committed when he had taken her virginity.
Uncle Algernon had his ear for much of the two days since their arrival, droning on about horseflesh and bloodlines and a mare he had his eye on, along with everything from his gout to his older brother’s biliousness. Aunt Helene’s shrewd gaze had taken in the tension between Lion and Addy even as his sisters had failed to yet take note. Letty and Lila had been too busy laughing and prattling about everything from their finishing school scrapes to Worth gowns to New York City and London gossip.
Letty?
He frowned down at the assortment of papers he was ignoring on his desk. Since when had he begun to think of his own sister, whom he had known all her life, as Letty? Addy had not just managed to find her way into his bed, but into his mind as well. And, if he were honest, perhaps into another part of himself as well.
His heart.
Lion exhaled a puff of air, wishing he had a cigar or even a glass of port with which he might sufficiently distract himself. This was madness. He couldn’t hide in his study forever. He would have to emerge and somehow separate Addy from his sisters’ clutches so that he could have a private word with her. Two days had passed. Christmas was on the morrow. And he had yet to have a moment alone with her, let alone an audience in which he could ask for her hand.
A tapping at his door broke through his thoughts. Lion rose, hoping it was Addy. Perhaps she was as eager to find time with him as he was with her. Perhaps she had finally surrendered and stolen away from his sisters’ sides.
“Come,” he called.
But it wasn’t Addy’s golden hair and dancing green eyes that greeted him when the portal opened. Rather, it was his father’s youngest sister. Aunt Helene had not been cut from the same cruel cloth as Lion’s sire, but she was a cunning woman. He had no wish to be interrogated by her at the moment.
Still, he bowed. “Aunt Helene.”
“Marchingham.” She left the door ajar as she swept into the room, wearing a handsome gown of lavender silk. “I was wondering if I might speak with you.”
Blast.
“Of course.” He gestured to the armchairs flanking the hearth. “Would you care to sit?”
She crossed the room toward the seating area, and they both sat. His aunt regarded him for a moment.
“It is good to see you again, Marchingham,” she said. “When your sisters suggested traveling to you for Christmas, I will admit that I was hesitant to do so because I know how you prefer your solitude.”
He did like solitude. Or, rather, hehadliked being alone. Now…well, the boisterous Addy Fox had changed him, and he couldn’t deny it.
“I’m pleased to have company, particularly for Christmas.” As the words left him, Lion realized they were truth rather than a polite platitude.
He had not celebrated Yuletide in years, not since his mother had been alive. In opposition to his father, each year, she had overseen the hanging of kissing balls and fir boughs and even erected a tree in the drawing room that had been ringed with gifts. His sire had deemed the festivities unnecessary folderol and had preferred to stay in London. After his mother had died, Lion hadn’t had the heart to continue her traditions. Instead, he had sent his sisters away and remained within the seclusion of Marchingham Hall, busying himself with estate matters and attending his duties.
“I always believed you were in my brother’s mold in regard to Christmas gaiety,” Aunt Helene observed.
“I have no wish to be in his mold,” he answered with raw honesty. “Not in any way.”
“He was a harsh man,” Aunt Helene agreed, giving Lion a pitying look that made him want to writhe in his chair. “It has always aggrieved me to know how cold he was to you and your sisters, how unfeeling.”
He was not comfortable speaking about his sire and rarely did so, which was why he had been so startled when he had revealed so much to Addy about Mittens. She simply had a waywith him. She didn’t dismantle his walls; she galloped past them and turned them into dust.
“It is in the past now,” he managed. “You are not responsible for your brother’s faults.”
“Quite a mercy, that,” Aunt Helene responded wryly. “My brother had many, many faults. He was far too much like our father and not nearly enough like our mother.Mamanwas an angel amongst mere mortals. I shall never know what she saw in Father, but whatever it was, he worked diligently for the entirety of their marriage to destroy it.”
Lion knew that his grandfather had been a wastrel and a faithless rake; he had died of apoplexy just before Lion had been born, so he’d never known him. The conquests of the sixth Duke of Marchingham, however, had been much written and whispered about. Lion was also well aware that Aunt Helene had not come to his study to relive past disappointments.
“I cannot think you sought me out to speak about my grandfather’s shortcomings,” he said.
“Quite right,” she drawled. “Otherwise, we would still be speaking well into next year. The reason I wished to speak with you is decidedly different. It concerns Miss Fox.”
