Page 15 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Both heads looked up guiltily at her approach.

The young Mr. Percy Jemisin looked embarrassed, knowing he’d been caught. Betsey turned pink, then her upper lip curled. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you. We all are.” Anastasia nodded to Mr. Jemisin. “Sir.”

“Miss Banks.” He stepped back, to Betsey’s evident dismay. She frowned and turned her glare toward Anastasia.

“Betsey, you went running off. Uncle was scared. You don’t know the city, you are unchaperoned, and—”

“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Banks, but she was perfectly safe. It is a lending library, after all,” Mr. Jemisin joked.

Anastasia stared at him. “Have a care, sir. That is my sister’s safety you are talking about. You are the very sort of fellow a young woman should be chaperoned from. Forgive me if we disagree.”

“You two are talking about me as if I don’t exist, and I do.

I’m here. And I’ll do what I please.” Betsey tossed her head and put a book back on a shelf but clearly not in its proper place.

Anastasia itched to correct it and put the book back properly but didn’t.

Instead, she exhaled and tried to be patient. “Betsey, you are eighteen.”

“Yes, and what of it? We are in London. Things are freer here, and no one cares about silly things like you do.”

“Like a young woman wandering off alone?”

“There’s loads of young women I see walking alone. I’m no different.” Betsey huffed.

“You are, in that you have a family who cares about you. What if you were robbed or got lost along the way? Did you think of that? Did you even think about what we would do once you went missing?”

Judging from Betsey’s petulant expression, she had not.

“And those ladies you see walking about alone are either working-class or not proper ladies.”

“You forget, dear sister, that we come from a tradesman’s family,” Betsey said with a nasty smile.

“And you seem to forget that our parents wanted more for us. They wouldn’t want you to be out alone, where it isn’t safe.”

“Don’t you dare bring them into this. Not when you were gone the very day Mama died.”

That comment, that barb, stung Anastasia to the quick. Her breath stoppered in her throat and pangs of emotion clawed at her chest. She blinked hard. With a heavy breath, she said, “Betsey. You should not be going out unescorted.”

Betsey rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t get any freedom. None of you care for what I want at all.”

“You’re right, maybe we don’t. But we all want to protect you.”

“From what? From talking with a young man?” Betsey snapped. “Do you dislike the idea of romance so much, you can’t bear for anyone around you to be happy?”

Anastasia’s temper rose. People were looking. She could feel eyes on them and sensed that the muted conversation in the next few aisles had quieted; people were listening. “Betsey, let us discuss this back at the townhouse. Aunt and Uncle are here, and—”

“No. I don’t want to.” Betsey crossed her arms.

Mr. Jemisin, to his credit, did not seem to care for the way things were going. “Miss Betsey,” he said. “Perhaps you’d better go.”

Betsey looked at him. “You want me to go too?”

He nodded.

“But what about—” She frowned. “Fine. I’ve had enough of this place. I don’t like libraries, anyway.” She turned and started walking, and Anastasia followed.

“Leave me be, Ana. I’m not in the mood,” Betsey said.

Anastasia followed like a shadow and then stopped.

Once Betsey had walked outside, she would be greeted by their aunt and uncle, who would no doubt demand to know what she had been doing, to go out alone without an escort.

Betsey would be put through a series of questions, which would likely make her foul mood worse.

Anastasia wanted to have a go at her little sister and tell her exactly what she thought of her behavior. She was being rude and careless, and what’s more, she was worrying their relations.

Anastasia gave it a few minutes before joining them in the carriage. It began to rain, a firm drizzle, and she hurried inside, shutting the door. Uncle Richard tapped the roof and the carriage set off, back for the townhouse.

The moment they set off, Aunt Mildred started. “Why on earth did you leave without a chaperone, Betsey? London isn’t safe for young women to be going out alone. Your maid would have accompanied you.”

Betsey’s gloved hands gripped the edges of the cushioned seats, Anastasia noticed, a sure sign of her displeasure.

“We were worried about you,” Uncle Richard said gruffly.

“It was my fault, Aunt. I’d promised I would go with her later today and lost track of time. She was so keen to see the sights of London,” Anastasia lied.

Betsey stared at her.

“Well, I suppose it was just a lending library,” Aunt Mildred said. “But you mustn’t go out alone like that without telling anyone, Betsey. We were worried. At least take a servant.”

“I will.” Betsey looked out the window.

Their aunt let out a little noise and watched her.

Anastasia gave her a smile but was conscious that her aunt suspected something.

Once back at the townhouse, the young women shed their damp bonnets and walking coats and went upstairs, but this time, Anastasia followed Betsey to her room and shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Betsey asked. She sat on her narrow bed, a pale coverlet with printed flowers, and began to unlace her boots. “Why did you cover for me?”

“Because I didn’t want them to think poorly of you,” Anastasia said.

Betsey’s mouth twisted into a sullen frown. “I don’t care what they think, or what anyone else says. And I never asked you to help me, or to run after me like that. I was fine on my own.”

Anastasia inwardly seethed, then remembered that her sister was young, an innocent, and didn’t know the ways of the world like she did. She breathed in through her nose and said, “He followed you to London. Mr. Jemisin.”

“So? What of it? We are courting.”

“He never paid his addresses to Papa. The least he could do is come and pay his respects and ask permission.”

“I am sick of this whole society rule that men have to ask permission to court a woman. It’s antiquated and old-fashioned. No one cares about that anymore and I don’t, either. If a man wants to court me, I say let him,” Betsey retorted. She tossed her head.

A part of Anastasia thought that even if that were true, she hoped a man would continue to be honorable and state his express wish to court her sister, like knights of old.

Declaring his attentions would make things so much easier.

Would that a man declare himself for me , she thought wistfully.

But never mind all that. She was past such thoughts now, and the sooner she came to terms with her spinsterhood status, the better.

Anastasia said, “Still. You shouldn’t—”

“I’ll do what I please, Anastasia, and I’ll thank you not to interfere in my affairs,” Betsey snapped. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll take whatever beau I wish, whether or not you approve.”

“But, Betsey—” Anastasia started, “You are a child until you reach twenty-one years old.”

“Bah! That’s in three years. I’m sick of you judging me and treating me like a little girl. I wish you’d find your own man and leave me be. I don’t need your help to meet eligible bachelors.”

Anastasia stared at her younger sister. How had she suddenly become so worldly at such a young age?

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change. Unless you plan to supervise that, too?” Betsey asked. Her voice dripped with anger.

Anastasia blinked. She felt like she hardly knew the young woman facing her. She gave a sharp nod and walked out.

Once back in her own room, Anastasia closed the door and leaned against it, blinking back tears.

She’d only involved herself because she cared about Betsey, and she didn’t want her to fall into the same misguided romance she had fallen afoul of.

She was so afraid Betsey would make the same mistake she had and would ruin herself.

Anastasia didn’t want history to repeat itself.

She then had a thought. Who was that matchmaker she’d met the previous night?

At the gambling den. The hostess. Maybe she could help.

The next evening, Aunt Mildred took Anastasia to the Lyon’s Den again, and once they’d entered through the ladies’ entrance and paid the entry fee, Anastasia was not surprised to find that this time, Betsey did not make a surprise appearance.

They had barely spoken since the exchange after the bookshop, and Anastasia felt foolish.

But now that she had a plan, she knew what to do.

She stood by her aunt as the older woman joined a group of women playing whist, and as soon as she saw their hostess circulating around the ladies’ floor and greeting people, she moved toward her.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon blinked at seeing Anastasia before her. “Ah. Good evening, Miss Banks.”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon.” Anastasia curtsied. “Might I have a word about your services?”

She couldn’t make out the woman’s expression behind her gauzy, black veil, but the incline of her head suggested the affirmative.

Anastasia followed Mrs. Dove-Lyon to the third floor, through an anteroom sitting area, and into a private office, where the hostess sat behind a large, mahogany desk, tidied and clean, with impressive bookshelves behind her. A servant closed the door behind them, sealing them in quiet.

“What is it you wished to speak about?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.

“I wish to pay for your matchmaking services.”

“For yourself?”

“No. For my sister.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon paused. “I rather thought you were coming here to speak on your behalf, especially as… Never mind. Why for your sister?”

“She is becoming entangled with a young gentleman of bad character, and I wish to see them separated. I knew his older brother, and he was as blackhearted as they come. I do not wish to see my sister ruined,” Anastasia said.

“And you have proof of this man’s intentions?”

Anastasia felt a wave of embarrassment pass over her.

She could feel a red flush creeping up her neck.

“If he is anything like his older brother, then Percy Jemisin has no real care or concern for my sister. He only wants one thing. I know this because… I knew the older brother’s character.

Intimately,” Anastasia said in a rush of breath.

Her heart pounded in her throat. She almost felt light-headed at admitting her error.

She’d never told a soul. Now to tell a total stranger, it felt almost freeing to admit it.

“I see. How do you know the younger brother takes after the elder?”

“I… don’t. But they are sneaking around, and my sister is moving too fast, and acting with less decorum and dignity than is proper. She is a good girl, and I think it is his influence on her. I don’t trust him, and they have only known each other a short time.”

“I am not in the business of separating happy couples.”

“Nor I, but neither do I want to see her make mistakes that will ruin her life.” Like mine , she thought grimly. “I’d rather she be introduced to a suitable young man who will treat her well, and who comes from a good, decent family.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon surveyed her for a moment. “I cannot promise I will help, but I will consider it.”

“What is there to consider? I thought—”

The matchmaker’s tone was frosty. “I am a woman of business, Miss Banks. I consider all sides before making a decision. And for your information, my fee is high. I am no economical matchmaker. I am the very best.”

The sum she relayed made Anastasia blink. “I can pay,” Anastasia said. “I have my dowry.”

“But what of yourself, Miss Banks? Do you not wish to save that for your future husband?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.

“I am not so naive as to entertain foolish hopes of making a match at my age. I’m long past it. I’d much rather see my sister wedded to a good man.”

“Your sister, is she aware of your feelings toward this young man?”

“She is. But the more I try to separate them, the more she goes after him. She is taking risks I do not like, and her behavior is worrying our aunt and uncle,” Anastasia said.

“Hmmm. Very well. As I say, I will consider the matter and get back to you with my decision. Enjoy your evening.”

And that was the end of the interview. Anastasia realized she had been politely but firmly dismissed, and to make any attempt to stay longer would be poorly received. She rose, curtsied, and left.

She hardly noticed her aunt in discussion with Mrs. Dove-Lyon that evening, or how the Black Widow of Whitehall also was in a conference with a gentleman, while Mrs. Sherwood walked around the salon, as if looking for someone.