Page 22 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“A long acquaintance does not equate to romance. I bear you affection, but only that of a sibling. I’m like a brother to you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re everything to me.

Everything.” She’d gripped the cushioned seat beneath her.

“I already followed my parents’ wishes and married whom they wanted.

And God help me, he’s gone. It’s not my fault I’m a widow.

But now I want to marry the man I want. The man I love.

That’s you, Theodore. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise. We are meant to be together.”

He had been relieved as the carriage had pulled up outside her family’s home. He’d quickly hopped out before the footman could open the door and held a hand out to her.

Angry as she had been, she had taken his hand and grasped it, held it close, and refused to let go. She’d stood there and looked up at him. “We are practically affianced, Theodore. And Miss Banks knows it.”

He’d pulled his hand away and wiped it on his trouser leg. “What do you mean?”

Her mouth had curled into a snide smile. “When I told her we were basically engaged, she didn’t care a whit. She wished me well and said I was welcome to you. Does that sound like the wishes of a woman who is in love with you?”

His mouth, which had already been downturning, frowned deeper. He’d straightened and said, “Good night, Mrs. Sherwood. You have given me much to think about.”

“Fine. Have it your way. Don’t believe me if you want, but she doesn’t care for you. You’re wasting your time with her.”

He’d turned away and made to enter the carriage when she’d said, “Theodore.”

He’d looked back, his leg half up on the pull-out step.

“Don’t forget. You promised to take me to the Lyon’s Den tomorrow. You agreed.”

He’d glared at her.

“And you always honor your promises. Will you come to dinner first?”

He’d shaken his head.

“See you at nine, then.” She’d blown him a kiss, and he’d entered the carriage and slammed the door shut. He’d banged the roof with a fist and the carriage had taken off in haste, but not before he’d seen her smiling, standing on the steps of her family’s townhouse.

The next morning, he had come down to breakfast in a foul mood.

He’d slept badly and tossed and turned all night.

What had Mrs. Sherwood meant by stating that Miss Banks had no wish or inclination to marry?

Did she plan not to marry at all, or was Mrs. Sherwood trying to dissuade him from pursuing her, by suggesting he had no chance, and neither did any potential suitor?

In the early hours, he sat up and washed his face, used the chamber pot, remembered they’d let their valets go and so dressed himself, and went downstairs for breakfast. He chewed his toast and marmalade angrily, and banged the teapot, spilling hot tea over the china cup as he poured.

“Heavens, Theodore,” his mother said, “you’ll wake the entire house if you keep doing that. I heard you stomp down the stairs and thought a wild beast had entered the house, or perhaps an elephant. What’s gotten you in such a mood?”

He wiped crumbs from his shirt and bid her good morning. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right. Just as well you’re up early.

Your father wanted to talk with you.” A tall, thin woman with gray hair and a gentle smile, she often reminded him of a bird with her bony form, almost fragile and dainty in her movements.

That morning, Mrs. Hardwicke, who wore a purple dress with a hint of lavender perfume, sat and poured herself a cup of tea.

“What about?”

“I’m not sure. Business, I suppose.”

Once his father had arisen, Theodore was summoned to his study and asked to shut the door.

In the privacy of the small room, Theodore took a seat facing his father’s desk and saw he had been drinking.

Again. But this time, his father was jovial.

The heavy-set man had combed his thinning hair, but it had already looked a bit messy.

His round cheeks and nose were red, his eyes once sharp, now watery.

“Well, my boy, I must say I’m proud of you. You’re making me very proud, indeed. And solving all our financial problems, I might add.” His father touched a letter on the desk, a single note amidst the clutter and stacks of ledgers, papers, empty wine bottles and glasses, and an inkwell on the desk.

“What do you mean?” Theodore asked.

“Why, you sly dog, I’ve had a note from Reuben Mattis this morning, saying that you proposed marriage to his daughter, and she has accepted.” He pulled open a box of cigars and offered him one.

Theodore stared blankly at his father. “She what?”

His father lowered the box of cigars and looked at him. “I have it here. Read for yourself.”

Theodore took the note and read. It was indeed from Mrs. Sherwood’s father.

Dear Hardwicke,

It gives me great pleasure to share the news: our Eliza had informed us last night that your son made her an offer, and she has accepted. I’m happy our families will at last be united.

I’d have liked it if the young man had come to me first to pay his addresses, but young people, eh? I hardly understand them anymore.

We’ll talk soon.

—Reuben Mattis

Theodore lowered the note in a shaking hand and put it back on his father’s desk. “Father… This is wrong. This isn’t right.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s right. And I can’t tell you how much this will please your dear mother. She’ll be overjoyed when she hears, and so will Julia.”

Theodore shook his head. “You don’t understand, Father. I never made her an offer.”

“Eh, what?” His father scratched his head. His looks may have sagged from age and heavy drinking, but his mind was still sharp. “What are you saying, boy?”

“I’m saying, I never proposed to her. I never even suggested it. Last night, she told me she loved me, and—”

“So you led her on is what you’re saying. Well, that’s a bit poor form on your part, but there’s no stepping away from it now.”

“Um, but this is wrong. I never proposed. Mrs. Sherwood is lying.”

“So she hurried things along. What’s a little fire under a man to spur him into action, eh? I know your mother and I dallied for weeks, courting, before I got up the courage to ask for her hand. I’m sure this is all just pre-wedding nerves, my boy.”

Theodore stood and walked around the back of the chair. “Father, I have no intention of marrying Mrs. Sherwood.”

“Well, of course you do. She’s told her father and that’s that. And a good decision too, for her family’s rich, and she’s a wealthy widow, isn’t she? Her husband was a seaman, so she’ll have his earnings. Bringing her into the family will solve all our problems.”

“It will make a dent, but it won’t solve things, not entirely. It will only give us some time before the debts rise again,” Theodore said harshly. “And this isn’t nerves. I am being honest, I do not love Mrs. Sherwood, and I have no plans to marry her.”

His father stared at him. A soft groan came from the doorway.

He turned and saw his mother standing there. “Do you mean to say you are rescinding your offer of marriage?” she asked.

“There was never an offer to begin with.” Theodore ran a hand through his hair.

He knew he was messing it up but didn’t care.

“There was never any proposal. She admitted her feelings to me, but I told her they were not returned. Any feelings I have or had for Mrs. Sherwood are no more than a friendly acquaintance, or as a brother. I do not fancy her. And she is not what I would want for a wife.”

“Oh, but what do you know about wives, Theodore?” his father said. “You’ve not courted anyone, as far as we can see.”

“I have begun seeing a young woman and am working with a matchmaker,” Theodore replied. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He was telling a lie, but he didn’t care. And hopefully soon, he would change Miss Banks’s mind about her spinsterhood status.

“You’re wrong there. It is my business. And just how much is this matchmaker costing us?

I say, leave it to the women to decide; they’ll settle things between them.

But now you tell us this? It’s all of our affair, when we’re facing financial ruin, thanks to that no-good uncle of yours.

Should’ve left him in debtor’s prison,” his father snarled.

“ Terrence ,” Theodore’s mother admonished. “How could you say that? That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Her face fell.

“I’m sorry, Violet.” Theodore’s father coughed and glared at Theodore. “Well, this is a mound of horseshit you’ve landed us in, boy. How do you plan to get out of this mess?”

“It’s not my doing. Mrs. Sherwood—”

“Pish tosh. The girl’s gone and claimed you proposed, so even if you haven’t, it will look to everyone like you have.

And if you go back on your word, our name will be mud.

Worse than mud. So figure a better way out than denying you ever proposed.

Otherwise, you will walk down the aisle with Mrs. Sherwood. ”

Theodore marched out of his father’s office and slammed the door, making his mother jump.

“Theodore,” she began, but he walked off. He went to the foyer of the house and began to put on his hat and walking coat, when his mother approached.

“Mother, I know what you’re going to say—” he started, when she held up a hand.

Mrs. Hardwicke sighed and leaned against the wooden stairwell. “I know it hasn’t been easy, dealing with all this unpleasantness.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m not so fragile as you think. I know that taking care of my brother’s debts and keeping him out of prison has nearly bankrupted us. I’m not so oblivious as that. Your father’s been drinking more, and he only does that when he’s stressed or unhappy. I notice these things.”

He let out a breath.

“And now this business with Mrs. Sherwood… I believe you, when you say you didn’t propose. You always were smart. You wouldn’t go doing so without reason, or on a whim.”

He looked at his mother with something akin to hope.