Page 23 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“But I also know that we raised you to be honorable, and to keep your promises. Whether it’s small or not. It sounds like you were dragged into this, unknowingly. Would you take me into your confidence and tell me what happened?” she asked quietly.

He’d always had a soft spot for her. He relayed the conversation in the carriage between him and Mrs. Sherwood from the previous night.

“I see. And this other woman, is she very old?”

He shook his head. “No more than twenty-four or five, I should guess.”

“And you like her.”

He gave a sharp nod.

“She is smart?”

He nodded.

“Then we will have to figure a way out of this.”

“You haven’t asked if she is pretty,” he said.

“I don’t need to. If she has taken possession of your heart, whether she knows it or not, then I know her to be smart, amiable, likely pretty, and if not outwardly, then beautiful in spirit. I look forward to meeting her.”

He looked at his shoes. “She is determined to be a spinster. She has convinced herself it must be so.”

“Then convince her otherwise, Theodore.”

A slow grin crossed his face.

“That’s the son I know.” She gave him a quick hug.

“What about the money?” he asked.

“Well. I know gambling is a sin. But you were always good at cards…” She shrugged. “The Lord will provide, one way or another. I have faith.” She patted his shoulder and walked out.

For the first time since yesterday evening, he felt hope in his heart.

That evening, Anastasia would have sworn that Betsey was in raptures.

Her conversation was endless, her laughter and good cheer boundless, and she demanded that Mary take extra care in dressing her and fixing her hair that evening.

Anastasia had no doubt they would see Mr. Percy Jemisin at the Lyon’s Den as well.

Not for the first time that day, she wondered if perhaps she had been wrong about him this entire time.

Their maid dressed Anastasia in a deep-rose evening dress trimmed with a gold embroidered sash at the waist. She wore a smart aubergine colored cloak and Mary had pinned a spray of baby’s breath in her hair.

But almost as soon as they had arrived, Anastasia had been left alone. Her aunt had taken up a place at the gambling tables upstairs with the other ladies, whilst Betsey had practically dragged her down to the main gambling salon, where she’d spotted the younger Mr. Jemisin.

But in no time at all, her happiness for her sister was ruined, as they were joined by Jeremiah, who was all smiles to his younger brother and Betsey, and who bowed to Anastasia.

As they were in public, she held her tongue to keep from making a rude retort. She would not disturb her sister’s happy time courting just because her former beau had decided to join them. And cause trouble, no doubt.

Anastasia mentally braced herself.

“Good evening, Miss Banks. Just the woman I wanted to see,” Jeremiah said.

The words rolled off his tongue so innocently, and yet she knew that look in his eyes. It spelt trouble.

“Sir. If you’ll excuse me.” She curtsied and walked away, when she felt a hand on her arm. She whirled around, ready with a sharp retort, when she paused. “Betsey.”

“What are you doing?” Betsey asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so rude to Percy’s brother? He came here with no other reason than to meet me, and you’re being absolutely horrid to him. Why?” Betsey let her hand drop.

Anastasia swallowed. “I do not like him.”

“Well, I don’t like you sometimes, but I’m still civil.”

Anastasia felt her eyebrows rise in disbelief.

“All right, I’m civil most of the time. Anyway, it would mean a lot to me if you and Jeremiah got along.

It’s important to me that he likes me. He’ll have a lot of sway over his brother, and I couldn’t forgive myself, or you, if something happened to change Percy’s opinion of me. ” Betsey’s expression was dark.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Anastasia said, looking past her. “I think he’s smitten with you.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Betsey practically swooned. “For me, it was like love at first sight. Once he’d rescued me that first night at the assembly rooms back home, I knew I liked him.”

“Hmm.” Anastasia made a noncommittal noise. “I’m going to head upstairs to the ladies’ floor. You’ll know where I am if you need me.”

“Yes, yes. But, Anastasia, why do you dislike him so?” Betsey asked.

Anastasia looked away. “We knew each other, years ago.”

“So?”

“We had a… falling out. Then Mama died, and I spent the time helping Father look after you, and we hadn’t spoken since.” Her voice was strained. Had Betsey heard something?

“I vaguely remember some young man you were courting. There was talk of you marrying. Was it…him?” Betsey looked at her. “Did you love Percy’s brother?”

Anastasia gave her a tight smile. “Love? Of course not. Just an idle fancy. Nothing more.”

She knew she was lying. She had loved him. She’d given herself to him, freely, thinking that would lead him to propose, or signify that he had her consent, and now they were free to be engaged. How wrong she had been then.

“I’m going to go check on Aunt Mildred.” She paused. “I can stay here with you, if you wish.”

Betsey shook her head as Percy approached with two drinks. She flashed him a sweet smile and said to Anastasia, “No, no, go on. I’ll be fine.”

Happy to let the pair chat together, as they were soon surrounded by other people, Anastasia decided to seek out some solitude instead of checking on their aunt and walked down a corridor, to a side door that led to a private garden.

It was a pretty space, admirable to have in the heart of London. There was a stone bench and a tree, with a little pond. As the moon shone overhead, the water rippled slightly but otherwise was as still as glass. She took a seat on the stone bench and let out a breath.

Listening to naught but the quiet whisper of the tree in the wind and gazing up at the stars at night, she could still hear the noise of London around her distantly.

The roll of carriage wheels in the roads and the clatter of horses’ hooves.

The shrill voices and laughter of men and women. She closed her eyes and just listened.

Then she heard it. A step.

Her eyes flew open. She did not move a muscle, but her right hand clenched in the fabric of her dress.

The step sounded again, but closer. Then another. And another.

She turned around to see and was gripped by a strong pair of hands that pinned her wrists together painfully. She looked up into the man’s face, tensing at the familiar sight of a red regimental uniform and a leering, sardonic smile.

“Good evening, pet,” Jeremiah said.