Page 20 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

The dance ended, and she felt the need to be alone. Anastasia curtsied to her partner and returned to her aunt as she looked around for her sister.

Betsey stood talking with the young Mr. Jemisin, a smile on her face.

It was the first time Anastasia had seen Betsey smile in days.

At first, she tensed, wanting to separate them.

But then, something within her chest loosened.

The way he doted on her, making Betsey laugh at something he’d said, and the way her eyes sparkled, it was a beautiful sight to behold.

He made her younger sister happy, and she found she was glad for it. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad, after all.

The very sight made her heart lift and feel a touch lighter. For a moment. Then she saw a man in uniform, similar to Jeremiah’s, enter her vision and her heart became cold.

Mentally, she believed she must go and separate Betsey and Percy immediately.

Seeing Jeremiah after all these years had reminded her of just how horrid he was, and she would be right to be on her guard.

Young Percy was Jeremiah’s younger brother, and if his foul nature and horrid ways had passed down to him, then she must do everything possible to divide them. Forever.

But she looked at Betsey’s face and warmed at the brightness of her eyes, the laughter, the way she talked animatedly and with joy.

And she saw how young Percy Jemisin took her hands and held them, with a touch that was tentative, as if Betsey might break, but he was tender and appeared gentle.

She smiled and wanted to laugh at how Betsey looked down with delight.

So she walked away. The moment was theirs and theirs alone. She took a breath and felt better with her decision, then turned and bumped right into a man in a red regimental uniform. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not at all. I love bumping into women,” Jeremiah said, making her blood run cold.

She stiffened and looked up at him.

He grinned, sending a shiver down her spine, despite the warm room.

“What are you doing in London?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Little Percy came home talking all about this beautiful girl he’d fallen for, and I wanted to see her for myself. But now that I know it’s your sister, well…” He flashed her a grin, showing far too much teeth. “I can’t wait to hear how close their courtship will get.”

Her nostrils flared. “You stay away from my sister.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, pet. My brother knows how to treat a woman. Just like me. You remember, don’t you?” His old sardonic smile was back.

Her cheeks flushed angrily. “Don’t call me that. You hardly know me.”

“Now who’s fooling herself?” he teased. “I know you very well, Miss Banks. Intimately, if you recall.”

She tossed her head. He laughed, and she turned, when he grabbed a hold of her arm.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“Not until we talk. I’m having too much fun. It’s worth it, coming back to London, just to see you. Even if I do have to look at your dull face again. Still, you always did have other charms…” Jeremiah’s leering gaze dropped to her bosom.

Anastasia pulled her arm free sharply and stepped back onto a man’s foot. She turned and said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Mr. Hardwicke grunted. “Think nothing of it, Miss Banks. Are you well?”

“Yes, fine,” she said. “Mr. Jemisin was just leaving.”

They both looked at him. Jeremiah nodded and winked at her. “Be seeing you, Miss Banks. Soon, I’m sure.” He disappeared into the crowd.

Anastasia’s shoulders slumped and she turned away, when Mr. Hardwicke filled her vision. “Miss Banks, tell me what is wrong. Who is that man and what did he say to you? Did he bother you?”

She gave him a wan smile. “I’m fine. I did not expect to see him again after so long.”

“It is not a happy acquaintance, I take it,” he said.

“No.”

She looked over to where Betsey and Percy stood talking, oblivious to everyone else around them. Her expression softened. At least someone is happy , she thought.

“It is unfortunate, having such connections,” Mr. Hardwicke said.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“One cannot always predict or control whom one will become acquainted with. Similarly with family. Familial connections are not always revered.”

“Oh?” Whilst she privately agreed with him, his line of thinking sounded too much like high-handed elitism to her, and she did not like his cold tone, or talking about it so openly and matter-of-fact.

“I myself only have a small handful of friends, for I dislike the idea of having to amuse everyone to be popular in society. It is a trying exercise, and fruitless. Real, valuable connections take time to develop and aren’t the reward of a few well-timed jokes at an assembly.”

“And with whom would you choose to develop these valuable connections, Mr. Hardwicke?” Anastasia asked.

“Those who are most deserving. Men and women of a similar age, style, and temperament, who esteem and uphold the same values, morals and ethics. It is why I sympathize with your situation, Miss Banks.”

“My ‘situation’?” she repeated.

“Yes. Of having to associate with a man so beneath you.” He looked over in the direction of Jeremiah. “You would not choose to be acquainted with such a man, I think.”

Her face turned red. “That is exactly what I did.”

“Oh. Well, we all make mistakes,” he said offhandedly.

Her choice of a romantic partner had been a mistake?

This was too much. Never mind that the man was right; she wasn’t about to admit that.

And she certainly didn’t want to hear such judging words from him.

Instead, she sniffed and raised her chin, a trifle indignantly.

“Well, then, I’m sorry to waste your time, when you could be chatting with your small number of friends. Sir.” She curtsied and walked away.

Anastasia moved around dancing couples and groups of finely dressed men and women talking, when she realized she was headed toward Mrs. Sherwood, one of the last people she wanted to see.

She stopped for a second, then kept walking.

They had made eye contact, so there was no refusing any interaction now.

“Ah, Miss Banks,” Mrs. Sherwood said. “Did you enjoy dancing with Mr. Hardwicke? Your sister certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”

Anastasia glanced back at her sister, who was now dancing with Percy. He must be in her early twenties, she surmised. Not more than a few years older than her sister. “Yes, I think she is.”

“I should warn you about Mr. Hardwicke. You should not let your thoughts dwell on him as a potential suitor, for I feel I should let you know, he is already affianced to another.”

Anastasia stopped watching her sister and glanced at Mrs. Sherwood. “He is engaged?”

“Well, not yet. But it is only a matter of time.”

“To whom?” Anastasia snorted softly. Mr. Hardwicke, engaged. She stopped mid-stride. But then she wondered, if he was engaged, why had he not mentioned it? And why had he been dancing with her?

“You’ll know once it’s official. In any case, he and the lady have known each other for years, so I feel it’s only my duty as a friend to tell you.”

“That’s very… helpful,” Anastasia said.

Mrs. Sherwood nodded. “Yes, well, it’s only right you should know. He is very charming and gallant, and he’s always quick to help a young woman in need. He may act very warm and friendly, but it is no more than his way. He is exceedingly polite.”

“Is he?”

“Yes. And a woman of your age, not even having been married before, I wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up. I may be a widow, but I am not without admirers. I only wish that you might be so lucky, someday.” She spoke with false sincerity.

“I see. Thank you, Mrs. Sherwood, for your advice.” However unwanted it was , Anastasia thought.

“But I feel I should tell you that I have no interest in Mr. Hardwicke, or any other man, in the romantic sense. Like so many people have pointed out to me this evening, I am too old to be thinking of any man romantically. So whomever the young woman is who is to spend the rest of her life with Mr. Hardwicke, she is welcome to him, in my opinion.”

Mrs. Sherwood brightened. “Quite right. So good of you to say so. I always feel it is so refreshing when a woman speaks the truth and recognizes her own limitations. It is freeing, is it not?”

“Quite,” Anastasia said through gritted teeth as she looked away.

Was she never to have a moment’s peace? She was twenty-five, for goodness’s sake.

Was she really too old? She subtly eyed Mrs. Sherwood.

The young woman couldn’t be that much older than herself.

But then, she had been married, whereas Anastasia herself was condemned by society as a spinster.

“And that young soldier you were talking with earlier, the one acquainted with your family. What is the nature of your relationship with him?” Mrs. Sherwood asked.

Anastasia blinked. “You mean Mr. Jemisin? Our families were friends some years ago. But we lost contact. We were both surprised to see each other here tonight.” She wanted to avoid talking about her sister if she could. She didn’t trust Mrs. Sherwood at all.

“I see. He seemed to claim an easy familiarity with you, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Anastasia shrugged. “Our mothers were good friends. But when my mother passed away, our families did not see each other so much after that, and so the connection faded. Why?”

“No reason. I simply wished to know. He’s rather handsome. Why did you not consider him before you reached your tender age?”

Anastasia was ready to throw her hands in the air.

First Mrs. Sherwood agreed Anastasia was too old to consider love anymore, then suggested she ought to have thrown her lot in with Jeremiah?

This was too much. “Our personalities are too dissimilar. And I think he has become very wild. I would stay away from him, if I were you, Mrs. Sherwood.”

If Eliza Sherwood heard her, she paid little attention to Anastasia’s warning. “Yes, yes. Well. He is rather handsome…” She turned and approached him.

Jeremiah glanced at Mrs. Sherwood, taking in her short stature, her blonde curls and expensive dress and jewelry, and pausing openly at her bosom. He grinned as they began talking, and in no time at all, they were joining the next set to dance.

Anastasia shook her head and found her aunt, making it clear she was ready to leave. She’d had enough fake pleasantries and not-so-subtle barbs for one night.