Page 13 of A Lyon’s Promise (The Lyon’s Den)
L ucretia sat across from Mrs. Dove-Lyon and wondered if she was going to tear up her contract after what had turned into a fiasco.
Even while she replayed the last three-quarters of an hour over in her mind, she could not credit it…
Gavin had rushed to her rescue! But even more incomprehensible was the fact that he had been standing right below the middle window of the ladies’ observation gallery.
Only those men competing for her hand would have been instructed to stand there.
Had it been by chance? Had Gavin been about to walk past under that window and happened to glance up?
She dismissed the notion of such a coincidence. After the brutal murder of her fiancé, and the connection between him and his supposed former partner in the smuggling Randall had been unwittingly dragged into, she no longer believed in coincidences.
Gripping her hands tightly together, she held them to her waist as she stood in the Black Widow of Whitehall’s private office…
waiting. Either she would hear it confirmed from the woman’s lips, that the famed Bow Street Runner had indeed been selected as one of the eligible men to compete for her hand, or it would be denied.
She’d heard whispers as she descended the staircase for the second time in the last hour.
Was it true? Had Gavin competed for her hand, or were the earlier rumors in the ladies’ observatory true, that he was here for someone else?
The talk among the women who had paid to have the Black Widow of Whitehall find them a husband had been rife with speculation tonight.
They all seemed to agree the handsome older Bow Street Runner was here tonight to compete for the hand of a raven-haired angel—rumored to be a hellion with a slightly tarnished reputation and a veritable fortune.
Lucretia could well imagine the man who’d kept his promise to her in her hour of need paying a large sum of money to compete for the younger woman’s hand.
After all, why would a man as successful as Gavin need help looking for a wife?
His looks alone had turned the head of every single woman in the gallery tonight.
Broad through the chest and shoulders. Arresting, rough-hewn features—his strong jaw, firm lips, and stormy-gray eyes.
Her heart held hope, while her head told her that he had glanced up, his eyes locked on hers, only because he’d recognized her.
He was here tonight to compete for the hand of someone else.
A hellion with a questionable reputation would be far easier for his peers to accept than an older widow whose reputation was currently being shredded among her former friends in the ton .
Lucretia refused to believe that her name and a wager had been entered into White’s infamous betting book.
It was just not possible. She had been sequestered in her town house since Randall’s murder—had removed her front door knocker, a sure sign that she was not in residence.
An unwelcome thought got stuck in her brainbox: if Gavin had competed tonight, it was to protect her reputation.
She had made discreet inquiries as to why he was not married—more than one source had confirmed he felt it too dangerous, given his position with Bow Street.
Why would he change his mind? Why now? Why her?
All of those questions could be answered succinctly.
He had done so out of a gallant need to protect her after she had fulfilled her duty to the man she was to marry and delivered that sealed note from Randall.
Lucretia’s temper began to simmer. The man who’d befriended her and become an important part of life after just a few short weeks had not trusted her.
If he had, he would have warned her that his life was in danger.
Oh, he’d confessed his involvement with Lord Stillman’s part of the smuggling operation, but never intimated there was a possibility that he could lose his life once he severed that relationship.
Poor Randall had misjudged Stillman’s contemptuous character. In fact—
The door opened and Mrs. Dove-Lyon swept into the room, startling Lucretia from her reverie.
“What an unexpected turn of events this evening.” The woman motioned Lucretia toward the settee.
“Please have a seat.” When she had, Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat in the chair across from her.
“We have much to discuss before you accept my terms and sign the final contract.”
“Another contract?”
The proprietress of the Lyon’s Den paused for a moment.
Lucretia could not see clearly through the woman’s veil, leaving her to wonder if the widow was accustomed to being questioned.
“We spoke at length the last time we met, and I informed you of what would occur tonight. Although I have had one or two clients threaten to back out at the last minute before, it is a rarity. Is that the reason for your surprise?”
Lucretia’s heart beat wildly. She could not find her voice, as every part of her being was concentrated on the wondrous notion that what she had overheard a few moments before she was roughly grabbed from behind and tossed over that beast of a man’s shoulder.
Gavin had indeed competed and won against the odds.
The women in the observatory were wrong: he had not come for the black-haired hellion—he had come for her!
Mrs. Dove-Lyon was silent for a few moments more before speaking. “Forgive me—I had thought that since you had been rescued by the man who won all three challenges for your hand tonight, you would be anxious to sign your contract.”
That snapped Lucretia out of her stupor. She found her equilibrium, dropped her hands, and lifted her chin. “I have no intention of backing out. Do you mean to tell me that Gavin…er…Mr. King has been in the running to compete for my hand since first we spoke?”
Instead of replying, Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose from her seat and walked over to the small table against the wall.
“I have already ordered tea for when you and Mr. King meet after we are through here, but I believe something a bit stiffer is called for first.” She selected a glass and glanced over her shoulder at Lucretia. “Sherry, brandy, or whiskey?”
“Sherry, please.”
The widow lifted the crystal decanter and poured sherry into a stemmed glass, handing it to Lucretia.
“Drink every drop, then you can tell me why the sudden reticence.”
Anxious to explain herself to the mysterious proprietress of the Lyon’s Den, Lucretia finished the drink and set the glass on the table between them. “I have met Mr. King before…and the occasion was not a happy one.”
“A visit from a Bow Street Runner rarely is. Do you mind if I ask why he called upon you?”
From the tone of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice, Lucretia had the feeling the widow already knew the answer.
Given her circumstances, and all she had to lose if she angered the woman, Lucretia decided to be forthright and answer the question.
“I sought him out. My fiancé, the late Lord Hughes, had an unexpected meeting arise. Before he left, he handed me a sealed note, adamant that should he not return by a certain time, that I would promise to deliver it personally to Mr. Gavin King on Bow Street.”
“Which I assume you did.”
Lucretia inclined her head. Why would a man like Gavin need Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s aid in finding a wife? “Lord Hughes and I were to be married at the chapel near his estate.”
“As it happens, I am familiar with the chain of events that transpired after you handed Mr. King the note. He is a man of his word, admired by his superiors, and the men reporting to him. Those who are brought in for questioning are either in awe of him or, quite frankly, fear him. Do you?”
“Fear him?” Lucretia scoffed at the notion. “Of course not. I admire him greatly. He kept his promise to me—even though the hour was quite late, he returned that same night with the devastating news. I have not seen him since that night.”
“Haven’t you?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice gave away the fact that mayhap Mr. King had seen her .
“Is there something I should know? Has he sought me out, but been turned away? If so, I shall speak to Weston immediately!”
“Weston?”
“My butler. He was my first husband’s butler for years and staunchly stayed on after I was widowed.
I have never been given any reason to question his trust in the decade he has been with me.
” Lucretia frowned. “But he does not have carte blanche to refuse admittance to anyone without my prior knowledge. There have been a handful people I have refused to see over the years.”
“You will have to ask Mr. King, though I believe you will be surprised by his response. And your butler’s, should you question him.”
This meeting had taken a mysterious turn and become more than a bit vexing. Lucretia’s head ached at the thought of Gavin competing for her hand, and she could not get past the notion that he had done so out of a misplaced need to protect her.
Given the man’s occupation, an insidious thought occurred, displacing the unpalatable one: was he on a case that required him to follow her, with an eye to confirming the ugly rumors?
Had he been charged with proving she had been sequestered in order to carry on affairs de coeur ?
She had never had one affair, let alone more than one at a time!
Lucretia crossed her arms over her belly, desperate to calm the churning that had her feeling quite ill.
She rarely had sherry on an empty stomach, recalling too late that it never sat well.
She loathed brandy, and had yet to develop a taste for whiskey, but had needed the false bravado the sherry would give her.
She regretted her decision, and should have been content to wait for the promised tea.