Page 14 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“No more than any young person, I’d say,” Anastasia replied.

“My dear, I am tired. I think I’ll sit here on the bench for a while. You go on ahead and catch up with your sister. I’ll be fine here.” Aunt Mildred fanned herself vigorously.

Anastasia glanced at her relation. Her aunt was impressive in both stature and nature, and she was not shy about sharing her opinions. But her cheeks were positively red, and she looked like she could use a cold drink. “Shall we go back, Aunt?”

“No, no. We’ve just arrived, after all. You go on. I’ll catch up in due course.”

Anastasia nodded to her aunt and walked on, looking for Betsey.

She went to the set of trees that Betsey had moved toward, but there was no sign of her younger sister.

Taking a moment to enjoy nature, she approached the edge of a pond, where the water lapped merrily against the small, marshy grasses, and was grateful for her sturdy walking boots.

She held up a hand to shade her eyes, squinting against the sun.

Anastasia was turning when a familiar voice said behind her, “What are you looking for?”

She jumped, startled. Her right boot slipped in the mud, and she tumbled, her arms flying out as she grabbed at the air.

The man uttered a curse and then she landed headlong into the marshy water with a splash. Anastasia coughed and hacked and instantly became annoyed as pond water soaked her clothes and body. She coughed up pond water and glared at the person who had startled her.

Mr. Hardwicke. Why, of all people, did he have to be here?

For his part, he looked contrite. He stumbled into the pond and with a firm grip, took hold of her arms and pulled her out, sopping wet. Anastasia emitted a wet cough that sounded most unladylike and spat out pond water as he tried brushing algae and plant matter off her arms and back.

She straightened and looked at him. The touch of his warm hands on her arms and body sent tingles through her that she tried to ignore.

She positively smelled like the pond water, and she felt a little shiver run through her.

They stood so close, far too close for propriety.

She looked up at him and met his brown eyes.

Neither spoke. The moment was theirs and theirs alone.

Then he had to ruin it.

“Is it just me, or are you particularly bad at standing still? Or is it walking? Are you always this clumsy?”

She gritted her teeth and glared at him. “ You startled me.”

“Apologies. I was unaware I had that effect on women.”

Her mouth formed into a hard line.

“Here. You’re sopping wet.” He began to remove his coat.

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t want him to know.

“You’re not. Don’t be ridiculous. Your aunt would never forgive me if you caught a cold here and died.”

Her body at that point decided to betray her, and she sneezed. She held up a gloved hand to her mouth, but it was muddy. Her gloves were ruined. Anastasia’s shoulders slumped.

“You’ve got mud on your face,” he said.

“And whose fault is that?” she demanded. Seeing the corners of his mouth turn up, she added, “Don’t answer that.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.” He removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She swallowed. The coat was big and warm and smelled like him. She had to refrain from snuggling in it. Instead, she focused on standing still and not slipping again. A telltale drip of pond water chose that moment to course down her forehead.

He pulled the coat close around her and offered her a handkerchief.

“Thank you.” She took it and wiped her face.

“Better.” He stepped back, just as they were joined by Mrs. Sherwood and Betsey.

“I say, Hardwicke, I turn my back for one moment and look who I found…” Mrs. Sherwood’s mouth dropped at the sight. “What on earth are the pair of you doing?”

“Ana? Mr. Hardwicke?” Betsey asked.

“Were you swimming? The pond is for the birds and fish only,” Mrs. Sherwood said.

Anastasia shot her a look. “I fell in. I was looking for you,” Anastasia told Betsey.

“Oh. Well, I was just walking along there. No need to go swimming to look for me.” She grinned as she saw the man’s overcoat on her. Betsey offered them a small curtsy. “Mr. Hardwicke, how lucky you were here to help my sister out of the pond.”

“Yes, so kind.” Mrs. Sherwood’s voice was flat. “Well, I’m sure we should be walking on. Perhaps you’d care for your coat back, Hardwicke.”

Did he bristle at the use of his surname without a title like that? Anastasia wasn’t sure.

“Keep it. I wouldn’t want you to catch a fever,” he said, meeting Anastasia’s eyes.

“It’s warm out,” Mrs. Sherwood said and rolled her eyes. “She’s hardly at death’s door.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” Anastasia began to pull off the coat.

“Nonsense, you’re shivering. You should return home immediately,” he told her.

“But…”

“You really do look terrible. Your dress and gloves, not to mention your bonnet.” Mrs. Sherwood looked her up and down and tutted. “You really should be more careful.”

Anastasia wanted to return her rudeness with a nasty retort, but Betsey put an arm around her shoulders and said, “Yes, we will. Well, we’d best head back. Come on, Ana. No doubt Aunt Mildred will be wondering what’s become of us.”

Anastasia curtseyed to Mr. Hardwicke and Mrs. Sherwood and allowed her younger sister to escort her away.

Betsey kept a hold of her arm and quickly glanced back. “He’s watching you.”

“That’s no surprise. He’s probably waiting to make sure I don’t do something else foolish like slip and fall on my face. No doubt Mrs. Sherwood would enjoy that.”

Betsey snorted. “Maybe. But I tell you now, he’s still looking.”

“I don’t care.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

Anastasia looked away. Betsey laughed, and Anastasia rolled her eyes. But she felt eyes on her. Could Betsey be right, and he was watching?

Aunt Mildred was none too pleased to see Anastasia’s wet state and insisted she escort them both home immediately. Once they had returned to the townhouse on Devonshire Terrace and Anastasia had gotten out of her wet clothes and had had a hot bath, she felt refreshed.

Aunt Mildred said, “There’s no time to waste, girls. We must go to tea at Mrs. Lott’s.”

“But what about Hookham’s? I wanted to go there.” Betsey said.

“There’s no time. We can go to Hookham’s another day. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“But I wanted to go now. I can go, can’t I? Surely, you and Anastasia can go without me.”

“My dear, what attraction does this lending library have for you? It is a shop. My friend Mrs. Lott—”

“I don’t care about taking tea with some fussy old woman. I want to go to the library.” Betsey stated, her blonde ringlets flying about her face.

“ Betsey ,” Anastasia admonished.

“What? I never agreed to go to tea. You did. Go without me.”

Aunt Mildred’s mouth dropped open. “Betsey, that is very rude.”

“I don’t care.”

Aunt Mildred’s eyes narrowed. “In my day, young women did as they were told.”

Betsey’s face turned pink as she glared at her aunt.

“Fine. I’m sure we can do without your company. Be my guest. I’m sure your uncle would be glad to accompany you.”

“Him? But—”

“It is not appropriate for a young woman to go out alone, unaccompanied. You know that, and society demands it. It’s simply not safe.

And I promised your father I would look after you both.

I can see now that my good nature and instruction are clearly needed.

After last night’s antics, you can thank your lucky stars I am allowing you to go out at all. ”

“But Papa always let me go out wherever I pleased.”

“Well, I am not your father.”

“Bah. I have a headache. I’ll stay at home.” Betsey huffed.

“As you wish,” Aunt Mildred snapped.

Betsey walked away and practically ran up the stairs to her room. The door slammed, and it made Anastasia and her aunt jump.

“Well, I never,” Aunt Mildred said. “What manners. And at her age, a young woman of eighteen. I am surprised. I thought your mother and father raised you both better than that.”

“They did.” Anastasia gazed in the direction of the stairs. “I’m sorry, Aunt. I don’t know what to say. She’s not normally like this.”

“It’s likely the journey and all the excitement of being in London, I suppose. She’s a dear girl, even if she did inherit the famous family temper. Let her stew in her room for a bit and cool off. She’ll be better company later, I’m sure. Now, are you quite well enough to join me for tea?”

“Yes, Aunt.”

And so, after they’d spent a perfectly pleasant afternoon taking tea and eating small cakes at the home of Mrs. Lott, they returned home to find the house in an uproar.

Anastasia and her aunt entered the home to find her uncle walking around, smoking. His hands trembled as he met Anastasia’s eyes.

“Uncle? What happened?”

“Your sister. I went upstairs to check on her and see if she’d like to play a bit of chess, and her room was empty. Her cloak and bonnet are gone too, I think. She must have slipped out.”

Anastasia tensed. Betsey, go out alone, again? “She must have gone to Gunther’s library. She wanted to go there earlier.”

“Right. I’ll have the servants bring a carriage around immediately, and we’ll go fetch her. I was about to call for the watch,” Uncle Richard said.

The three of them piled into the family carriage and set off for Hookham’s, off the corner of Bruton Street. It boasted a cheery shop window with a green-and-yellow sign out front, encouraging readers to come in.

Anastasia practically flew from the carriage and went inside, a bell hanging over the door signaling her arrival. She nodded to the gentleman at the counter, ignored his welcome, and started walking to and fro the aisles of the library, looking down each row as she passed.

There were numerous people there, and as she walked down the aisles, searching, she heard a telltale giggle.

Her head shot up. She knew that sound. Anastasia followed the source of it, turning the corner, and there, between the final wall of books and the wall of the main room, stood Betsey and… “Mr. Jemisin.”