Page 19 of Don’t Wake a Sleeping Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected)

“W e need something for the ball,” Alfred said a few minutes later when the modiste presented a pair of lace gloves to Ada.

Ada’s heart flopped. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s annual masquerade ball. She’d forgotten about it; she’d been too busy trying to win her freedom, and then—of course—there was Alfred to distract her. But she knew all about it. The ball was a risqué night of gambling in celebration of the old woman’s birthday. Ada would work as a puffer; Alfred would be a guest.

“A ball gown?” the spectacled lady asked. “Or an evening dress? Will there be dancing?”

Behind her, a voice Ada recognized shrieked, “Dancing? She can’t dance for the life of her!”

Charlotte. Ada rolled her eyes and turned to face her tormentor who stood nearby, stepping out of Alfred’s embrace.

“What brings you here?” Ada said biting her lip. She had to clench them so she didn’t shriek. Stay calm, Ada, she told herself.

Charlotte gave her a dismissive shrug. “More money that you’ll ever have, especially now that I don’t even need to lie about your—” she eyed Alfred with sly curiosity—“ downfall .”

Alfred’s eyes grew icy.

Ada’s heart sank.

“He’s buying you clothing? Is he paying you for your services as well?” Charlotte asked with a nasty simper.

“Who is this?” Alfred snarled.

“Nobody of importance,” Ada said.

“Perhaps not yet, but when her fortune is mine, I’ll be the match of the season. Charlotte Silvers,” she said, extending her hand to Alfred with a vicious smile. “I’m so pleased Ada has settled herself as your mistress.”

Alfred didn’t budge. His expression was analytical and dry. Through pinched lips, he said, “We are busy. You may go.”

“Dismissing me would be a grave mistake, Mister…”

“ Doctor. Dr. Stein. Dr. Alfred Stein.”

“A doctor no less,” Charlotte said in a voice filled with enough poison to make a viper cringe.

The modiste returned. “Here is the chemise, and a stole.” Her expression changed to one of barely disguised resignation. “Oh, dear. Miss Silvers.”

Ada quirked a brow and Alfred turned his back to Charlotte pretending to inspect some weighty fabrics.

“Well, Ada, what have you to say for your absence last night?” Charlotte prodded.

“Nothing.”

Alfred turned back to the wretched young woman. “She was with me,” he said.

“So I gathered.” Charlotte gave Ada a look from head to toe as if it were her last. “Don’t bother to come back then, I cannot soil my reputation with yours.”

At that, Ada snapped and grabbed Charlotte’s arm, digging her fingers into that flesh in a way sure to leave bruises. She’d had enough of her threats and abuse, and now—probably—her thievery. “You say you’ll destroy my reputation? That’s doubtful, Charlotte. It’s even more unlikely that my actions could soil yours. Your hateful personality takes care of that all by itself.”

Even Charlotte’s gasp was haughty. “As long as that money is in my name, you’re not even on the guest lists for the balls this season. I’m your golden ticket, never forget that!”

“Golden ticket indeed, Ada. Father has one for the ball at The Lyon’s Den. Will he see you there then? Gambling and whoring?”

Ada’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t!” Alfred stepped closer with a wide stance. His air was equal parts dangerous and feral, ready to pounce and defend her honor.

“Oh, but I did! Father is furious and eager to see you in action. His solicitor will be there, ready to transfer your money into my name once he sees it with his own eyes.”

And with that, Charlotte pivoted and disappeared.

Ada couldn’t face Alfred. In mere seconds, Charlotte had managed to wash away all the delicious bliss of the night and the generous treats of the morning. Ada felt meager and hopeless.

Worse, she feared Alfred would want nothing to do with her now. But what did she expect? She really was no better than the men who wagered their lives away at the Lyon’s Den. She’d been fooling herself, enjoying the fantasy that she, the orphaned daughter of a smuggler, a servant, a puffer in a gambling den, could be the beloved of a doctor. Gone was the Ada of her past, the girl tutors from all over the world taught her to be more cultured and well-spoken than any of the debutantes, especially Charlotte. Ada felt like just a girl nobody wanted anymore, discarded like the boots she’d have to pick up for Charlotte.

Alfred deserved a woman who could be his wife, a woman from a good family, and a woman of good reputation, one who would be his true mate, the mother of his children. She made to leave the room and run away as fast as she could before his reputation was tarnished by association with her, a fallen girl. But Alfred grabbed her arm before she could leave; he made her face him. Even though he knew what she did at Aunt Bessie’s, and what she’d done with him in bed the night before, she was sure that Charlotte’s accusations could make him see her in a different, dirty, light. She expected to hear him snarl at her, to tell her to get away from him and never speak his name again. Tears pricked her eyes but she squeezed her eyes shut. Nobody would want to see her cry. The world certainly did not pity an orphan, why would anyone pity a fallen girl?

But instead of reacting as Ada had expected, Alfred reached out and stroked her cheek with loving tenderness, the same he’d done only hours ago in his house. She realized then that tears were running down her face; Albert was brushing them away with gentle fingers.

“Ada…who was that horrible woman and why did she say you can’t go home?” he asked gently.

He deserved the plain truth but Ada was loath to relinquish his protective chivalry. Still, he was a good man—the perfect man! He deserved better than her. She needed to be honest with him; if she did that, then she would be giving him the best of herself, and that he really did deserve. Screwing up her courage, she said, “My father trusted Mr. Silvers. They’d been school friends.”

“In Prussia?”

“Yes. Mr. Silvers is German. His wife is British. Because her family served the King of Hanover, she thinks they are practically related to Prinny.”

She wanted nothing more than to reach for Alfred’s hands with her own, to feel his closeness and support, but her life story shamed her. She didn’t want to bring her misfortunes into his life. So she wrung her hands and didn’t allow herself to move any closer to him. “My father supplied liquor to Aunt Bessie.”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” His beautiful, clear blue eyes widened. “Wait. Did you just call…Is The Black Widow of Whitehall your aunt ?”

Ada batted her teary lashes. If only she really did have a family to care for her. She wouldn’t need to work to win her freedom or find a husband. She would be a good girl, the kind that Alfred deserved. Right now, she was little more than a wolf at the Lyon’s Den—Or she would be once Charlotte was done ruining her reputation with her father and his solicitor. “Not really. I call her Aunt Bessie because my father did. He’d known her since he was a boy. She hates it that I call her that.”

Alfred’s cheek twitched, and she realized he was trying not to smile. But he wasn’t laughing at her. She supposed she could understand—almost everyone was afraid of Aunt Bessie. Except for her. Maybe it was a bit funny. She gave him a small smile and continued, “Since my father died,” Ada continued, “the trust he’d put in my name was placed in Mr. Silver’s custody. Because my father had faith in him to take care of me as his own daughter. But he didn’t. I asked Aunt Bessie if I could borrow money from her and gamble, grow it, and escape from the Silvers since I couldn’t access my trust until age twenty-five or I marry, but I was trapped and couldn’t find anyone to marry without Aunt Bessie’s help.” Ada gasped for air. “Aunt Bessie had her solicitor review the documents. The Silvers… they…”

“They’re taking advantage of you. And now, Charlotte is waiting to seize your trust?”

Ada nodded. “It vests in my name if my reputation is intact at age twenty-five or upon marriage. The terms were changed and my father is…” Ada’s face distorted as the tears rolled after all.

“Charlotte wants to prevent you from attaining your inheritance at any cost, so she can get the money?” he prompted.

Ada sighed. So that was it. Alfred knew and he could turn away from her now. “It doesn’t make any sense, Ada.” He didn’t turn away. Alfred merely rubbed his forehead and squinted. “This Charlotte Silvers seems so sure of her rights, there must be something else.”

“Aunt Bessie read the terms.”

“In person?” Alfred narrowed his brows to a tense frown.

“Yes, with her solicitor. Mr. Silvers never let it out of his possession, I believe. I was never allowed to see it since my father died.” And as soon as Ada had spoken the words, acid rose to her throat. How could she have been so blind? She’d been the only person who had seen the old will and could identify what was altered in the version that Aunt Bessie read. But if Charlotte was so sure of her inheritance, why couldn’t Ada see the will? Why was Mr. Silvers so protective of the document? His stakes were high enough to trap Ada in their house.

Of course! Because she’d be able to invalidate it. And if she invalidated the revised will, she’d inherit but Charlotte never would. A wicked girl without a dowry, the butcher’s daughter would have no prospects in society.

Ada’s mind raced faster than a phaeton in the wind. She’d been held prisoner by the Silvers because they had much at stake. She needed to find out how much exactly.

Her gaze met Alfred’s. “Why is he getting away with murder?”

Ada gasped. “Who?”

“It’s obvious Mr. Silvers forced your father to sign the trust over under duress and that he killed him, isn’t it? Did he threaten your life? How much money is in the trust if I may ask?”

“When I left for London, it was nearly seven thousand pounds.” Ada’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Ada, that’s… you are an heiress in your own right. You don’t need to gamble for your upkeep.”

“I don’t have access to the money. I’m a girl.”

“And I quite like that about you. But you mustn’t let them steal your inheritance.” He sobered. “Ada, duress invalidates contracts. Wouldn’t it invalidate the revised trust?”

“There’s nobody to attest to the duress. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s solicitor looked into the terms for me. I must marry immediately or else the fortune becomes Charlotte’s dowry.”

“If the solicitor examined the trust, it’s in English?”

“I never saw the papers, but it seems so.”

“That’s odd based on what you told me. Did your father change the Prussian terms when he arrived in England then?”

Ada had never considered. Had her father nearly reached her when Mr. Silvers intercepted him? And why didn’t Mr. Silvers protect her father from the brewers?

“I-I… when he said that Papa had been beaten to death, I didn’t ask.”

“Maybe you should ask now.” He pulled her into his arms and she nestled against him.

She knew he was right. Enough self-pity. Enough gambling to circumvent the inheritance. It was time for Ada to fight for her future and her love.