Page 25 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Anastasia opened her mouth, when Mr. Hardwicke said, “Miss Banks, I fancy a reel. Would you care to dance with me?”

Anastasia nodded and accepted his hand. As he shrugged on his coat and led her onto the small dance floor by the musicians, he said, “Forgive me. I wanted to escape for a moment. Mrs. Sherwood is intolerable at the best of times and is not shy of sharing her opinion.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Anastasia smiled at him to let him know it was okay. The young woman was rude, but more and more, Anastasia was sensing that her barbs and spiteful comments were due to something akin to jealousy.

The music began, and it wasn’t a reel, but a stately dance.

As they joined the row of dancers and stepped in time, she took a moment to appreciate where she was, and whom she was with.

She observed Betsey happily joining in the dancing with the younger Mr. Jemisin, and Mrs. Sherwood standing by the sidelines, watching almost angrily.

Her hands were crossed beneath her chest, and she only had glares for Anastasia.

Once the dance had ended, Mr. Hardwicke said, “You look parched. I’ll get us some drinks.” He bowed and went in search of liquid refreshment, when Mrs. Sherwood cornered Anastasia.

“I don’t know what hold you think you have over him,” the other woman said, “but you need to stop monopolizing his time. He is engaged.”

“To whom?”

“To me.”

Anastasia froze. Mr. Hardwicke and Mrs. Sherwood?

Of all the people. Why, then, had he been so quick to ask her, and not his intended, to dance?

It had been rude, and even cruel. Why was he dangling her in front of Mrs. Sherwood?

Had they had a row and so he was taking revenge by flirting with another woman?

If so, he was a blaggard and thoughtlessly harsh.

“I thought you should know. You’ll be able to read the announcement in The Times any day now,” Mrs. Sherwood said with a self-satisfied smile.

“They’ll read the banns in church this week.

Although between you and me, Hardwicke is so keen for us to be wed; it wouldn’t surprise me if he applied for a special license, just to make it happen faster. ” She giggled.

“Congratulations. I had no idea,” Anastasia uttered. Hardwicke, engaged. Her shoulders slumped in slight sorrow.

“I thought not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have agreed to dance with him.

But then, he always did have an eye for charity.

” Mrs. Sherwood’s smile turned nasty. “He’s very gallant, my Theodore.

You’re only doing him a favor. He thinks to make me jealous, by dancing with another.

But we both know that it is me he will end up with and not anyone else. ”

It might have been the recent dancing, or the heat of the room, but all of this started to make Anastasia’s head spin. “I see. I’m sorry to have played a part in it.”

“No matter. He often likes to toy with women’s affections, but he knows better than to trifle with me. I have a very jealous nature, and if any woman sought to think his attentions as anything more than civil or polite, well… I’d simply have to disabuse them of such a thought. You understand.”

“Of course.”

“And by and by, what was the nature of your disagreement with Mr. Jemisin? He seems like such an honorable fellow. What did you say to make him leave?”

More like what he did, but never mind , Anastasia thought. No matter what she said, she was certain that Mrs. Sherwood would only view it in a certain way, and not one favorable toward her.

Mr. Hardwicke returned, bearing two glasses of wine.

He saw Anastasia and Mrs. Sherwood standing together and his stomach grumbled.

Seeing them together was a sure sign of trouble.

He opened his mouth to speak, when Mrs. Sherwood took one of the wineglasses and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Such outward displays of affection were very bold, indeed.

“Mrs. Sherwood, please,” he said.

“What? Miss Banks knows,” Mrs. Sherwood said.

“She knows what?”

“Our happy news, silly.”

Anastasia watched with a heavy sigh as Mrs. Sherwood wound her arm around his. “Congratulations on your engagement,” she mumbled as she turned away.

“Miss Banks—” Mr. Hardwicke started. He called louder, “Miss Banks!”

She ignored him and kept walking. Being bullied by one man was quite enough.

Being trifled with by another, and one who was engaged…

She shook her head. Perhaps she ought to join a nunnery.

There had to be medieval nunneries around somewhere.

Maybe one might take her. Anything to stop being messed about by men.

Theodore glared at Mrs. Sherwood. “That was a very foolish thing to do. What did you say to her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth. We are very soon to be engaged. My father agreed it should be so and wrote to your father this morning. So we might as well announce the news.”

“I am not going to marry you.” There, he’d said it. It was out in the open. He’d told her again that evening before they’d arrived at the Lyon’s Den, but it had been like talking to a brick wall. She’d simply refused to listen and had smiled instead.

Mrs. Sherwood slowly unwound her arm. She looked up at him. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“You did. I repeat, we are not getting married. I have no intention of marrying you, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped telling lies.”

Her eyes blazed. “What did you just say? You’re calling me a liar?”

“In this case, yes. Your silliness has gone on long enough. If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t act this way.

But you don’t. Maybe you just think you do.

Perhaps you held an idle fancy for too long and now don’t wish to let go.

Whatever the case, I would like you to face the truth, Mrs. Sherwood.

Our families are friends, but that is all.

We are not engaged. You do not love me, and I do not love you, either. ”

His words were genuine. Theodore was unprepared when Mrs. Sherwood shrieked and threw her glass of red wine in his face.

He glared at her, sopping wet. Theodore removed a silk handkerchief from his breast jacket pocket and wiped his face.

“No future wife of mine would do such a thing.”

Her eyes were wet. She was ready to burst into tears, he could tell.

“Just go, Mrs. Sherwood,” he said. “I’ll call the carriage to take you home.”

Mrs. Sherwood glared at him, not saying a word. She sniffed loudly and stalked past him to the cloakroom.

He stood outside and waited for the carriage to arrive, then turned and walked back inside the Lyon’s Den. He never saw the man in a red military uniform slink out of the shadows and approach Mrs. Sherwood.

Theodore didn’t leave the Lyon’s Den until early the next morning. He’d joined one of the gambling tables where the men played and got stuck in. He stuck to water, not wine, to keep his wits about him, and aside from eating the occasional small sandwich to stay awake, he lost himself in card games.

Hours later, he’d lost track of time. Most of the guests had left for the night, and those who were left were standing around yawning, watching the game. Theirs was the only card game left, and even the servants were looking a bit peaky.

The bets were high, and he was an excellent player. But whilst some players strove not to lose, he played to win. Another hand, but he lost. He yawned. He was tired, and his attention was diverted. Early morning light began to stream in from somewhere, and he put down his hand. “I’m done.”

The other players agreed and began to step away, aside from two gentlemen who were keen to keep playing.

He pushed his chair back and stretched, then went to collect his winnings.

That’s the one good thing about the Lyon’s Den , he thought.

Unlike some other gambling dens in London, they were honest and didn’t try to force him to drink, smoke, or purchase time with women on the side.

If he wanted to play cards all night, they didn’t mind. So long as he didn’t cheat.

But what he’d earned that night was just a fluke. It was nice to have, but it wouldn’t make a dent in his family’s finances, and it wasn’t sustainable. He valued his mother’s faith that the world would make things right, but he didn’t know how without marrying well.

Thoughts of a marriage to Mrs. Sherwood drifted through his mind.

She liked him, but he often found her annoying and intolerable.

Were it not for her close friendship with his sister, he would quite happily have ended the connection entirely.

And her father had written to his. Without clearing up this understanding fast, he was stuck.

But he just didn’t see a way out. And what good was that, when his heart belonged to another?

The next day at an early hour, Anastasia had just finished breakfast when a servant interrupted her and said she had a caller. Thinking perhaps it was young Mr. Jemisin for Betsey, she told the servant to let him in.

But to her surprise, she entered the room to find a most unexpected visitor. “Mrs. Sherwood, good morning.”

The ladies curtsied, and Mrs. Sherwood looked around the parlor and sniffed, raising her chin. “This is a very small room.”

Anastasia tried not to roll her eyes. The young woman’s rudeness toward her was one thing, but being unnecessarily rude toward her aunt and uncle’s home was another matter. “What can I help you with, Mrs. Sherwood?”

There could be no mistaking the thinly veiled annoyance in her tone, but she hardly cared. The woman was already engaged to Mr. Hardwicke; had she come to gloat about it too?

“I’d like you to stay away from Mr. Hardwicke. You seem to monopolize his time when he is engaged to me. He is marrying me.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about. You made that perfectly clear last night. I wonder at your coming here. Surely, you’d be better off warning him to keep his distance from me.”