Lions and Lace by Meagan McKinney

Author:Meagan McKinney [McKinney, Meagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, General, Historical, Suspense
ISBN: 9781497661189
Google: EpvaBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00OMMN05O
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

16

Trevor came down the next morning visibly pleased to see the calling cards left on the mahogany Townsend and Goddard block-front chest in Fenian Court's enormous marble foyer. The stack of cards were proof of Mara's success the evening before, and he seemed content to sift through them, noting with satisfaction all those illustrious names.

But when he came to the last card in the stack, his expression abruptly changed. His dark moody eyes turned thunderous. Looking briefly at the writing on the back, he put the card in his pocket, summoned the majordomo, and gave him explicit instructions—essentially, to drag his wife downstairs to have breakfast with the master.

Alana awoke with Margaret standing over her bed holding out her dressing gown. The little maid informed her that her presence was requested downstairs immediately. Irritated yet intrigued, Alana dressed in a sienna-colored watered silk day gown and departed for the sunny breakfast room.

The master's disposition, however, was anything but sunny. Trevor gave her one black glance before she was assisted to her seat by the majordomo. The intimate breakfast room was hung with lime-green taffeta, the same silk and tassels festooned at the many windows. But even this cheery color couldn't wash away the pall of the master's mood as he stared at her in dead silence. The mahogany eating table sat only six, and when she went to take her napkin, he seemed to take comfort in being so close that he could see every subdety of her expression.

Alana looked down at her plate and found Anson Stevens's calling card staring up at her as if it were a coiled snake. Her eyes briefly flickered to Trevor before she found the courage to pick it up.

"He wrote you a note on the back," he bit out.

Alana glanced up and saw the servants quietly skulk out of the room. She turned the card over and read: I don't believe you.

She looked up. Trevor's face was etched with anger. His eyes fairly glittered with the power of his emotions. "He seems to be confused, Alana. I'm not sure he understands the sanctity of our marriage." His barely leashed fury mocked his restrained words.

She placed the card on the tablecloth. "I'm famished. I hope we eat soon."

"What doesn't he believe?"

This question threw her. Her expression faltered. She couldn't tell him what she'd said to Anson. She'd rather die.

"What doesn't he believe, Alana?" Trevor prompted, his anger becoming more ominous.

She ignored the question. "The servants are returning soon, I hope?" It was the wrong thing to do.

Trevor took note of her noncommunicative stance, looked down at his coffee, and calmly took a sip. "If Stevens thinks he may cuckold me, you may want to mention I'll see him dead first." The words were delivered with such ice, it took a moment for Alana to think of a comeback.

Her eyes sparked with fury. "How dare you cast stones at Anson—or me. You've no right at all. Or have you forgotten our dear Miss Daisy Dumont?"

"Daisy was my mistress before I knew you," he bit out.

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