Page 28 of Always the Lyon Tamer

John frowned, obviously utterly at sea.

Rebecca sighed. All the education that England could give him, yet there was still so much he did not comprehend.

“Ladies cannot simply decide they wish to marry someone and propose to them—the very idea!” she said cuttingly. “Have you ever stepped a foot outside of your own experience, John, and imagined what it is like to have no agency, no control, no direction in one’s life other than that which a man gives you? Father, brother, husband…ladies have no choice in their lives. Not out there.”

It was wonderful to speak so plainly, and Rebecca felt a rush of euphoria flow through her. She should have done this years ago.

“That is not exactly true,” said John hastily. “I know plenty of ladies who—Lady Romeril, for example…”

His voice trailed away as Rebecca laughed dryly. “Dear God, you cannot intend to give her as an example? John, the woman is near eighty! A wealthy widow who has age on her side can certainly do what she wants, but me? No. No, I waited for you, and you did nothing.”

It was not intended as an accusation, but it hung in the air like one, and she saw John bristle.

“You gave me no indication—”

“I sent you letters! Far beyond what was expected of a young lady, I may add, and if my father had ever discovered I had…” Rebecca swallowed.If her father ever discovered she had ever heard of the Lyon’s Den, let alone step foot inside it…“I gave you all the hints I could, as a lady.”

But John was shaking his head.Had he not listened to her, had he not understood?

“How was I supposed to know from those letters that your affections for me were so…so progressed?”

It was Rebecca’s turn to hesitate. “I-I…You are the Lion of the Lennoxes! I thought you would be able to see through the words on the page, understand what I was trying to say.”

John had risen now and was shaking his head as he started to pace around the room. “You think I am some sort of mind reader? You think I can translate meaningless phrases about attending the opera to…to a proposal?”

Rebecca could feel herself getting hot. This was not the time to lose her temper. She needed to stay calm so she could explain to John precisely why he was in the wrong.

“You know how you gained your nickname?” she said, moving to sit in the armchair near the bed. “The Lion of the Lennoxes?”

“No.”

Rebecca smiled. “Because of the way you gather the ladies around you, you must have noticed.”

He had stopped his pacing and was now leaning against the wall. “Well? What of it? ’Tis hardly my fault if ladies wish to spend some time with me. I have never encouraged them, never promised things I could not—”

“The last time,” Rebecca repeated, and there was sadness in her tones. “Damnit, John, why aren’t you listening to me? I never got a proper look in again. How could I-I impress you, shy as I was, when you were so surrounded?”

He did not reply to this. Rebecca’s heart was fluttering painfully.

“You only invited me to the opera with Lady Charlotte because I was there before you, and you felt embarrassed. I can see that now,” she said simply. “God, I was so foolish. Here I was, convinced you were falling in love with me, and you did not even recognize me this evening.”

Sadness was threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a little fury, too, and that was the emotion she held on to.

Fury would help her continue to speak. Righteous anger, that’s what it was.She needed to say this, needed to explain. Because without this moment, she would always wonder, always question herself, question him.

Rebecca took a deep breath to continue, but John cut across her.

“I think you are being unfair,” he said curtly. “Damnit, Miss Darby—Rebecca, I asked you to that opera because I wanted you to come! I thought you pretty, and I knew nothing of you, and I thought to find out more!”

Something akin to hope sparked in her mind, but Rebecca pushed it away. She could not allow herself to get overwhelmed by John’s clever words. She had fallen for these tricks before.

“But you never considered me a serious prospect, did you?”

John took a step toward her. “I had not considered matrimony to any—”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh, John, I do want to believe you, but I just cannot! I saw the way you looked at the other ladies around us at that card party we attended together. It is always the beautiful ones, the witty ones, who marry! Not…not the shy ones.”

John. Even looking at him now, she found herself utterly besotted with him. Love was in her bones, and she would never rid herself of him.