Page 107 of Lyon of Least Resistance

Silhouetted against the backdrop of the rising sun were two people—one on horseback, the other walking alongside.

“Who goes there?” he called.

“James?”

Hope soared in his chest at his wife’s voice.

“Cordelia?”

A low cry came from the figure on the horse.

“Brother!”

As he drew near, the two women came into view. His sister sat atop the mare, body hunched, distress lining her features, and his wife, face flushed, hair unkempt, walked alongside, holding the reins. Both women looked near exhaustion, and as James dismounted, Cordelia stumbled. He rushed forward and caught her in his arms.

“You found her!” he cried. She nodded against him, then he addressed his sister. “What the bloody hell did you think you were—”

“No, James,” Cordelia interrupted. “Georgiana knows the folly of her actions. You should direct your anger to the one who is really at fault. Why must the woman always be blamed for the actions of a man?”

“Brother, I’m sorry!” Georgiana said. “I-I thought he loved me, a-and it’s what you wanted, was it not?”

“To be ruined, disgraced?” he began, but Cordelia squeezed his hand, and he sighed. “I wanted you to make a successful match, of course,” he said, “but most of all, I wanted you to be happy. Where is he now?”

“I don’t care,” Georgiana replied, her voice strained as if she gritted her teeth.

“He’s still on the road,” Cordelia said. “The wheel of his coach broke. Thank heavens his coachman is an honorable man. He fired warning shots in the hope that you’d come to us, though Sir Iain threatened to dismiss him.”

“I’ll give him employment,” James said. “And I’ll flatten Sir Iain if I have the misfortune of setting eyes on him again. Loathsome creature!”

“But you liked Sir—” Georgiana broke off, coughing, then shook her head. “You liked him.”

“Aye, fool that I was,” James replied. “I didn’t see the true man behind the title. Just as I didn’t see the true woman behind the red mask in the Lyon’s Den. It is I who should apologize. To both of you.”

His sister let out a sob.

“Come now, Georgie,” he said. “Wipe your eyes. Can you ride by yourself?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he replied. Then he led Cordelia toward Hercules.

“James—”

He silenced his wife’s protest with a kiss. Then he lowered himself to his knees and held out his hand. Cordelia remained still, staring at his proffered hand.

“Brother?” Georgiana asked.

James glanced up, and his stomach knotted as he saw his sister watching. But though he wished it were a private moment between him and his wife, he owed it to Cordelia to begin, as soon as possible, to atone for his foolishness in not appreciating the woman who had so thoroughly claimed his heart.

He kissed his wife’s hand, then lifted his gaze to her eyes, which glowed like quicksilver in the dawn light.

“I have many regrets, my love,” he said. “My first is that I was never able to offer you my hand as a man ought to. While I shall ever be thankful for the machinations of Mrs. Dove-Lyon that brought us together, I wish, with all my heart, that I had been given the opportunity to offer myself to you wholly and completely as a man in love.”

She blinked, and moisture glistened in her eyes.

“And so,” he said, his voice wavering, “I offer myself to you now. My hand is already yours, as decreed by the law and the church. But long before today, my heart and my soul belonged to you. I may never be able to atone for not appreciating you as I ought’ve, for letting my unwarranted sense of propriety war with the love I bear you. But propriety is nothing. Reputation is nothing. There’s only one thing in the whole world that has any value—that should be worshipped, adored, and recognized, above everything else, and…”

His throat constricted and he caught his breath as tears stung his eyes. Then he blinked and his vision cleared to see her watching him, her eyes soft with compassion.