Page 33 of A Lyon’s Promise (The Lyon’s Den)

“A re you certain I look all right?” Lucretia asked for the third time.

“I do not want Gavin to think I gave no thought to which gown to wear. The issue is, most of what I own is sadly out of fashion and a number of years old.” Lizzy fussed with Lucretia’s hair until it had been swept off her neck into a loose knot on the top of her head. “Thank you, I think—”

“One more moment, your ladyship.” The maid pulled a lock of hair free and draped it over her shoulder, then stepped back and clapped her hands together. “There. Oh, you look radiant. Let me fetch the looking glass.”

Lucretia knew it did not matter how she looked—she and Gavin were getting married because they had signed contracts after seeking the aid of Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

She had been accused of being na?ve and bacon-brained during her first marriage, but she wasn’t any of those things.

She had been young and ill equipped when she was thrust into marriage before the end of her first Season.

But now she was a dozen years older. Widowed.

Not many men would want to become leg-shackled to a woman her age, with the rumor and innuendo of scandalous behavior hanging over her head.

She needed to speak to Gavin before they said their vows—she had to hear the real reason he had bested two other men in the challenges Mrs. Dove-Lyon created for them.

“Lizzy, would you deliver a message to Mr. King for me?”

“But the vicar is here, meeting with Earl Lippincott, Captain Coventry, and Mr. King.”

“It is of the utmost importance.”

Lizzy, Lord love her, frowned. “It is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they wed.”

“If I do not speak to Mr. King immediately, there will not be a wedding!”

Lizzy’s face paled. She spun around and raced for the door.

Yanking it open, she ran down the hallway.

Lucretia could hear her footsteps clattering down the servants’ staircase.

While she waited, she wondered if she were being obstinate, and nearly talked herself out of marrying Gavin at all.

But they had agreed truth would be the bedrock they built their marriage and lives on.

Lucretia needed to know why he’d competed for her hand.

He knew her reasons for seeking out Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

After receiving word from Bancroft regarding the state of her inheritance, and hearing the rumors Cook and a few of the maids brought back after running errands for Mrs. Riddleton, she’d had no choice but to ask Mrs. Dove-Lyon to find her a husband, because Lucretia refused to sell her body.

She’d lose more than her self-respect—she’d lose her soul.

The sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the servants’ staircase had her drawing in a deep breath and slowly exhaling. Gavin was coming. He must want to marry her… Then again, he was a man of high principles and had signed a contract.

The knock on the open door had her looking over her shoulder. “Gavin. Thank you for coming.”

“What’s this about not marrying me? I thought we talked everything through. Are you still in love with Lord Hughes, or is there someone else?”

“Heavens, no! I explained about Randall and that we had agreed to a marriage of convenience.”

“Then what is it? Surely after all we’ve been through getting to this point, you can trust me with your worries.

” He reached for her hand and slowly pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “Mayhap it will be easier if I am not looking at you.” He tucked her head in the hollow of his shoulder and rested his chin atop her head.

“There now. Tell me what is bothering you, love.”

“Were you coerced into competing for my hand? I cannot imagine that a man of your talents and caliber among the Bow Street Runners would seek a wife who is not only a widow, but was tucked away on the shelf half a dozen years ago.”

“Lucretia…you are a beautiful, gracious, intelligent woman, and I fought bloody hard to win the right to ask for your hand.”

“I do not understand—there were much younger ladies there last night. Surely you were there for one of them.”

King murmured against her hair, “I failed you.”

She pushed against his hold and stared up at him. “You won the challenges, even swallowing the oysters you loathe.”

His eyes were troubled. “The night you came to me, with Lord Hughes’s sealed note in your hands, begging me to find him, insisting that Lord Stillman was responsible, I gave my word to find him.”

“And you did.”

“He was already dead when I discovered him.”

“But you brought me the news.”

“I was too late to save him.”

Lucretia cupped the side of his face. “I overheard one of your men talking to Weston—poor Randall was beyond help a few hours before I delivered the note to you.”

“That is beside the point,” he argued.

“It is exactly the point,” she insisted. “You kept your word. You found him, but what does that have to do with your being at the Lyon’s Den last night?”

“I wanted to tell you, but could not decide when. Bessie Dove-Lyon has helped me obtain information on more than one occasion. We have an understanding that if she hears something I should know, she sends me a missive. If I hear scuttlebutt that involves the Lyon’s Den, or one of the wounded military men that are in her employ, I relay the information to her. ”

“What did she tell you that she thought you needed to know?”

“I received word that you enlisted her aid to find a husband.” King placed his hand over hers and brought it to his lips.

“I’d already heard the rumors and planned to do all in my power to uncover the source and put an end to them.

I will not have your reputation dragged through the mud because someone decided it would be amusing.

I care for you, Lucretia, deeply. I have since the night you sought my help. ”

“I have wanted to call on you so many times since that night to thank you personally, but did not want to interrupt you when you were working.”

“I received your note. Your thanks meant more than you can imagine.” Brushing a wisp of hair out of her eyes, he rasped, “Marry me, Lucretia. I have never felt compelled to offer marriage to another. You are the only woman for me.” He bent his head and captured her lips. “Say yes…again.”

How could she refuse? She’d asked for the truth, and he’d given it to her—and, in the telling, felt his affection and desire for her.

She knew without a doubt that she had received far more attention and caring from him in the last twenty-four hours or so than she had in the two years she was wed. “Yes, Gavin… I’ll marry you.”

He pulled her flush against him. “Let’s get this done before you change your mind again.”

“I won’t.”

He kissed her deeply, lingeringly, before easing his hold on her. “I’ll hold you to that!” He reached for her hand. “Come—we cannot keep the earl and his countess waiting much longer.”

“I’d completely forgotten about them.”

He grinned. “Too busy thinking of me?”

“If you must know…yes. I do hope they are not upset with me.”

“Lizzy was worried enough about why you sent for me that she did not bother to lower her voice. Everyone knows it had to do with a hesitance on your part to marry me.”

As he guided her toward the main staircase, she corrected him, “It was my need to hear why you were at the Lyon’s Den, and to ascertain whether or not you were there for me or one of the younger ladies.”

“I was there for you, love…only you.”

King could not hold back his smile of satisfaction as he lowered his lips to Lucretia’s and sealed their vows with a kiss. Unable to help himself, needing another taste of her, he kissed her again, to the delight of those surrounding them.

“Best get a pitcher of cold water,” Viscount Moreland boomed, “before King forgets he is not alone with his bride.”

“Earlier the word fire got his attention,” Thompson murmured.

King shook his head. “You have the right of it, Thompson.” He tightened his hold on his wife.

King had never thought to marry, but now that he and Lucretia had said their vows before the vicar, two of his men, and a few of his exalted connections within the ton , there was no escaping the fact that there would be talk come morning.

He’d best thank everyone before either of his men had to remind him.

He bowed to the earl. “Thank you, your lordship, for insisting that we use your home for the wedding.”

“My pleasure,” Earl Lippincott replied. “You have been a fair and impartial mentor to my brother and I from the beginning. Jared sends his felicitations along with that of his duchess.”

Imagine that, an earl and the Duke of Wyndmere having a hand in King’s marrying Lucretia. Before he could comment, the earl’s wife Aurelia walked over to take Lucretia’s hands in hers. “Congratulations, Lucretia. Edward and I are thrilled for the both of you.”

The earl smiled down at his wife. “Our gift is happening as we speak. Arrangements have been made, and your new home has been properly cleaned, the kitchen pantry stocked, brandy, sherry, and whiskey decanters have been filled, and fresh linens are in the master bedchamber…along with the requisite bottle of champagne to toast your happy marriage.” He paused, then turned to his wife. “Have I forgotten anything, Aurelia?”

“Yes, darling, but we’ll let Captain Coventry tell them about that.”

King was still processing the earl’s generosity when Coventry and his wife, Miranda, were the next to wish them well. The captain told them, “With Weston and Lizzy’s permission, we have included their belongings to be packed and sent over with Lucretia’s to your new home.”

“And yours too, Gavin,” Miranda added, “from your lodgings.”

His heart felt full. From the look on Lucretia’s face, she was more than a bit overwhelmed by the generosity of the people he had developed not only working relationships with, but friendships.

Pressing his lips to Lucretia’s forehead, he smiled and thanked them.

“We never expected anything like this and are grateful for your kindness and generosity. You must have hired a small army to make this happen for us.”

The earl smiled.

“Just because one marries by special license does not mean it has to be a circus,” Viscount Moreland grumbled.

“As long as someone battens down the hatches—in case of a rogue wave—then you can get on with your lives. To hell with anyone butting in and giving you unnecessary advice about how to live it and what Society expects of you.”

The loving look the viscount’s wife Gemma bestowed on the man had King silently agreeing with the former captain. She smiled and said, “The important part of any ceremony—no matter if it is small—is what is in the hearts of the bride and her groom.”

“Hear, hear,” Greeves said with a grin. He elbowed Thompson, who stood beside him, and murmured, “I’m hungry.”

Thompson chuckled. “You’re always hungry.”

Their laughter had the others joining in. King turned to Lucretia and brushed his knuckles to her cheek. “Are you hungry, wife?”

Her face flushed a becoming pink while he stared down at her, willing the golden ring in her warm brown eyes to appear. When it did, he knew she was truly happy. Finally, she managed to reply, “Famished. I do hope you were right about there being more than just frosted teacakes.”

King tightened his arm around her. “I heard a rumor about tea with an array of sweets baked by the duke’s excellent cook Mrs. O’Toole. Is that true?”

The earl and his wife beamed. “Indeed it is, though I confess, there is an overabundance of cream tarts,” he said. “Dare I hazard a guess that they are a favorite of your bride’s?”

King felt as if he’d swallowed the sun, and wondered if it would continue to happen anytime someone mentioned his bride.

“After an intense interrogation, I was able to ply the truth from Lucretia. She has a fondness for cream tarts, but sadly, her cook apparently did not have the skill to bake them. Mrs. O’Toole’s talent in the kitchen is above and beyond that of other mortal cooks. ”

Hoping he had not overly embarrassed his wife, he turned in time to see her blinking away tears. “Happy tears?”

Lucretia wiped away one that tried to slip past her guard. “Happy tears.”

He leaned close and pitched his vow low, so as not to be overheard. “If we have one cup of tea and a tart to eat, I believe I can convince Mrs. O’Toole to package up a plateful of cream tarts to take with us to our new home.”

“You don’t want to stay and celebrate?”

He captured her mouth in a brief, but potent, kiss. “I have another idea of how to celebrate—alone with you.”

Two cups of tea and three cream tarts each later, King and Lucretia were riding to their new home, King with platefuls of tarts, scones, and cakes in the basket on his lap.

Thompson rode beside the coachman, and Greeves on top.

King’s men would see them safely to their new home and stand guard while he was finally able to show his wife how much pleasure her heart—and body—could hold.