Page 13 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

T he next morning, Anastasia stretched and wriggled her toes inside the warm blankets.

There was an ordinary pleasure and deliciousness about being snuggled under the cozy warmth of blankets in the morning, being just awake but with knowledge that she had no social engagements to attend, no visits to pay or calls to make, and nowhere in particular she had to be.

She could even take after some of the grand ladies she’d heard about, many of whom didn’t leave their beds until noon.

That seemed a bit much, but then her thoughts took quite a different turn as she closed her eyes and the image of a young man’s haughty expression solidified in her mind.

Mr. Hardwicke. Whatever was she doing thinking of him?

He was handsome, to be sure. Last night, she had noticed his short, dark-brown hair, cut short, but not so short as to be unattractive. His cravat had been white and starched, his posture straight and his behind, well… Best not to think about that.

But she couldn’t forget the warm feel of his hands at her waist and lower back, or how she’d felt his heart beating quickly as she’d fallen against him. He’d looked positively stunned, and for some reason, that had excited her. A devilish, impish part of her wanted to do it again. She wondered if—

There came a knock at her door. “Ana, are you awake?”

Anastasia threw off her blanket. “Yes, I’m up.” She sat up in bed, just as the bedroom door opened, revealing Betsey and their maid.

Mary crossed the room and drew open the curtains, letting in rays of blinding sunlight.

“Why, your face is pink. Are you feeling all right?” Betsey asked.

“I’m fine. I was just overly warm,” Anastasia said.

“Right. Well, get up and come down to breakfast. Aunt Mildred wants to talk to us.”

Anastasia yawned and stretched before pushing aside the bedcovers and letting her feet touch the floor, just as Betsey left.

Mary pushed the door closed, giving her a bit of privacy, and went to help her dress.

It was March, which meant London, like St Albans, was wet, rainy, with light, whitish-gray skies.

At her aunt and uncle’s townhouse in Devonshire Terrace, there were a few trees on the walkways but not many, and whilst there was a park within walking distance, the streets were already busy with carriages and walkers.

Anastasia rose and surveyed herself in a mirror, eyeing the dress Mary had picked out for her that day.

She wore stockings held up by garters, and over her shift, a plain and ordinary blue, floral day dress.

It was of a middle blue color, not sky blue like what a younger woman might wear, and not so severe as to be midnight or navy.

A middling blue, like the skies in summer on a fine day, except this also bore tiny, printed flowers.

She washed her face and sat down to let Mary attend to her toilette.

The maidservant pinned up Anastasia’s blonde hair in a simple bun with small wisps dangling by her cheeks, and once satisfied, she thanked Mary and went down to breakfast.

Aunt Mildred was waiting. Over tea and toast with orange marmalade and a new red hibiscus jam, Anastasia listened as her aunt outlined her plan for their social engagements the next few days.

Anastasia smirked. When she’d woken up that day, she’d had no social engagements to speak of. Now her days were full.

“There’s tea at the Lotts’ and then we can go promenading in St. James’s Park, and if you like, we can visit a museum or two.”

“I want to see the ducks and the geese in the park,” Betsey said firmly. “And go to Hookham’s Circulating Library.”

Their aunt paused. “Hookham’s? But why? No. Not when we have Hatchard’s, Ridgeway’s, and Stockdale’s lending libraries right on our doorstep. It’s an easy carriage ride to Piccadilly, and—”

“But I want to go to Hookham’s,” Betsey said.

Anastasia glanced at her sister. Was she even sure of the name? This seemed like an odd request, especially coming from Betsey. “Why? You’re not a great reader.”

Betsey blushed. “I just want to. I heard it’s good.”

Anastasia exchanged a confused look with Aunt Mildred and shrugged.

“Very well, I suppose we can. If that is what you want,” Aunt Mildred said.

“But you really shouldn’t be sneaking out unaccompanied, especially after dark.

What if something had happened to you? We would never know.

You can’t expect to go sneaking off and then make demands the next day with nothing to say for it. ”

Betsey had the good grace to bow her head.

“But… On this occasion, I will overlook it. We can go to Hookham’s.”

Betsey brightened. “Thank you, Aunt Mildred.”

Their aunt blushed. “Yes, well… But you really cannot dawdle. I met with my good friend Mrs. Lott last night, and she has invited us ladies to tea. She has a new cook she’s very proud of, I gather, and wants to show off his skills.” Anastasia nodded. “A walk in the park first, then.”

“Yes, then here for a light luncheon, and we’ll take the day from there.”

As the women finished breakfast and Betsey quit the room, Anastasia asked, “Aunt, that is very kind of Mrs. Lott to include us in her invitation to tea, but… May I ask, why all the social engagements? I didn’t think our time in London would be so busy.”

Her aunt’s smile was kind. “I despise idleness. And from what your father says, we need to find husbands for the both of you, and—”

Anastasia straightened in her seat. “Aunt, forgive me, but you are misinformed. I am quite willing to do all I can for Betsey and agree with your plan for her, but please, do not waste any of your attention on me. I do not intend to get married.”

Aunt Mildred froze. Her mouth dropped open a little. “What? Anastasia, what are you saying? I know you are of an age where many people treat you as a spinster, but that is no reason to give up. Many young women make successful matches in marriage in their later years.”

Anastasia shrugged. “I don’t plan on marrying.”

A crumb flew out of her aunt’s mouth. “But why? I don’t understand. You are young still. You are pretty—”

Anastasia shook her head. “I am twenty-five, and well past the age for a young woman to marry. I have no interest or inclination to throw myself into the ring and try to capture a young man’s attention, when he will be looking for a younger woman to bear him children.

Even with a good dowry, I am unlikely to offer much temptation.

I would rather save my father the time and money which could be better used elsewhere. ”

“What nonsense. I don’t believe this,” Aunt Mildred said. “There are always widowers.”

“Forgive me, Aunt. But I have no wish to be courted by a man twice my age.”

“Hmph.” Her aunt sniffed.

Anastasia inwardly dreaded offending her aunt, but she was steadfast in her decision. “I think the time has passed when I would have met a young man who would have seen me as a potential marriage partner, and I have little to offer.”

“What rot.” Aunt Mildred tossed her napkin on the table with a loud thwap.

You talk as if you are old, but age twenty-five is nothing to be ashamed of.

I myself didn’t marry until I was thirty-two, although we did have a long engagement.

I did not like it, waiting so long, but we needed to.

He was at sea, and I was working as a governess, as my family couldn’t afford to look after me any longer, not where there were five of us children.

Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday.

There we were walking back from church in Bristol, and there I spied this most mysterious-looking gentleman in a naval uniform, strolling along the pier, smoking.

I dropped a handkerchief and he caught it before it blew away.

He saw me and I him, and that was that. Besotted.

But he still had his duty to his country for the next two years, so we were patient and in the end, it all turned out very well, indeed. ”

Anastasia smiled as her aunt talked about her courtship with her Uncle Richard, a Prussian, who liked to smoke foreign cigars and drink port. At least her aunt had found someone to love. Now if only she could do the same for Betsey.

Anastasia smiled faintly and set down her napkin. She nodded to her aunt and rose gracefully from her seat. “I’ll help you all I can to find Betsey a suitable husband. And the sooner we can, the better.”

“Now, Anastasia, just wait a minute—” her aunt called, but Anastasia was already out of the room.

A short time later, the young women and their aunt were decked out in walking coats, hats, and gloves and were approaching the entrance to St. James’s Park.

It offered cultivated paths and pretty, green areas where birds and squirrels roamed.

The small ponds had ducks and geese that boldly wandered around, and even a graceful pair of swans glided in the water, amongst floating water lilies and leaves.

Anastasia breathed a great sigh of contentment.

Here, away from the rush and bustle of London’s busy streets, she felt she could start to relax.

Navigating the roads of the city, once they had disembarked from her aunt’s carriage, had been like trying to avoid a whirlwind.

No matter what, she would be in the thick of it and undoubtedly in someone’s way.

It wasn’t until she’d seen the green, grassy areas of the park that she’d felt her shoulders start to lower.

It was funny, Anastasia realized; she hadn’t even been aware she’d been tense.

She turned to her sister, who was looking away. “Betsey.”

Her sister didn’t answer. Her attention was diverted by a group of trees up ahead.

“Betsey,” Anastasia repeated.

“What?”

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Isn’t this nice? I think we should go walking here every day.” Betsey walked on ahead.

Anastasia turned to her aunt, who was fanning herself with a fan.

“A keen lover of wildlife, your sister?” Aunt Mildred asked.