Page 27 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

A nastasia wanted to think.

She wanted to clear her head, so she, her aunt, and her sister went to the Royal Exhibition to view the statues and paintings on display. It was a way to be out and sociable, without having to pay calls or talk to anyone, which Anastasia quite liked.

At the same time, being surrounded by people without anyone to talk to could feel rather lonely. But she enjoyed gazing at the paintings and falling a bit in love with their images, for it let her mind wander. And at that moment, she desperately wanted to think.

Keeping a relatively close distance to her aunt and younger sister, Anastasia walked on, until she was interrupted by a belch and a cough. “Ah, pet. Thought I’d find you here. You always were predictable when it came to seeing whatever some bore had done and called it art.”

Anastasia jumped. She knew that voice. Facing Jeremiah, she said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Oh, but I’ve got some business to discuss with you, pet.” Mr. Jemisin took her by the elbow and pinched her arm, steering her behind a marble sculpture of a Greek god.

Anastasia snatched her arm back. “Don’t touch me.”

He snickered. “Got a backbone now, eh? Took you long enough.”

“What do you want?”

“Fifty pounds,” he said flatly.

She blinked. “Money? Why?”

“Because a little birdy told me that you’re close to making a match with that scalawag Mr. Hardwicke, and his family’s rich. You’re not exactly in the poorhouse yourself, so I know you’re good for it.”

Anastasia stared at him.

“The way I see it, if you want to marry him, you don’t want him to know about your past, do you? Our little secret? You remember.” He rubbed his chin, which needed a shave. “We do each other a favor. You pay me fifty quid to start with, and then I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Anastasia gripped the sides of her skirt. She didn’t want him to see her hands trembling. He wanted fifty pounds now, and that was to start with. That was no small sum. In no time at all, he’d bleed her dry. But she wasn’t going to pay him a single shilling. “And if I don’t?”

“You will. I’m being nice now, but if you ignore me, well…

Do you recall the letter you sent me seven years back?

After that day when we rumpled my bedsheets, you sent me a note cutting off all contact.

It hurts a man, to get a letter like that.

For some reason, I kept the damn thing, and wouldn’t you know it, you refer to our little liaison in it.

Can you imagine if that letter fell into the wrong hands? ”

Her mouth was dry. Had her letter said such a thing? She couldn’t remember now; it had been so long ago. She couldn’t believe he’d kept it all this time. “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned. “I would. A few words to certain folks and you just might find that London’s not so welcoming anymore.

Not to a girl like you. No more parties or dances, and no one will want you then.

Least of all him. Not sure your aunt would want your sort living with her any longer, either.

She’ll likely put you and your sister in the first carriage back to St Albans, and then where will you be?

It won’t take long for word to spread about why you had to leave Town.

” He made a show of buffing his nails on his uniform.

“But don’t worry, pet. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.

Either here, or if you’re in need of comfort, well…

I always did have a soft spot for you. My bed is always open. ” Jeremiah gave a little laugh.

She met his eyes. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, she had fancied herself in love with this man.

Jeremiah’s eyes were dark and cruel, the tilt of his chin arrogant, his smile oh-so-snide and self-assured. She wanted to wipe the smile off his face.

He leaned in and said in her ear, “And your sister, Miss Betsey? I’ll just be having a word with my brother.

Percy won’t like what I have to say, but neither will he want to marry a girl who’s got such a wild sister.

He won’t like that at all. A stuffed shirt, he is.

Stickler. Wants to do everything by the book. ”

“Not like you,” Anastasia said, her voice shaking.

“No. But he’ll listen to his older brother, especially when I tell him I’ve had you between the sheets.” His voice was snide. “He’ll listen when I tell him you were begging for it, wanting more.”

She hated the way he’d made her blush. She’d done nothing of the sort, but that didn’t matter. People would believe whatever lies he told them. “Why? I loved you. Why would you do this?”

His sneer disappeared. For a fraction of a second, he was the young man again, with that same self-assured confidence she’d fallen for. Then the moment disappeared, and his sneer was back. “Money. Pay me, Ana, or you’ll be sorry.”

She blinked back tears.

“Pay me tonight. I’ve got a room at the King’s Head Inn. I’ll be waiting. Tonight, Ana. I mean it.” He growled and walked away.

She let out a shuddering breath and wiped away a tear. Part of her wondered if she had always been wrong about him. But the other part of her didn’t care. And for the first time, she’d spoken the words out loud. She had loved him once. Not anymore. There was a freedom in being able to say that.

But now her thoughts drifted to Mr. Hardwicke, and worry gripped her, of what he might think if he knew.

That more than anything made her realize that she cared.

Not about Jeremiah; she’d stopped caring for him long ago.

But Mr. Hardwicke, for him to hear about her past and to judge her, she couldn’t bear the thought.

What would he say? Would he still look upon her kindly?

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he was engaged to Mrs. Sherwood.

So it didn’t matter what he thought. But then, why dance with her and not mention his engagement?

And that moment in the garden at the Lyon’s Den.

She’d felt sure at that moment that he’d been about to kiss her. If only she hadn’t sneezed.

She straightened her shoulders and rejoined her aunt and sister. Threats and then demands for money. What more could the day bring?

The women returned to the townhouse to find an invitation waiting for them. Aunt Mildred tore open the letter and read it quickly. “Oh, it’s an evening party. My good friend, Mrs. Linden, has invited us to dine with her this evening.”

Betsey looked disappointed.

“Never mind that, my dear. You can miss your beau for one evening. Besides, a little distance never hurt anyone. Makes the heart grow fonder is the saying,” Aunt Mildred said.

Betsey nodded.

Anastasia didn’t know Mrs. Linden, but she was indeed a good friend of her aunt’s, and so that evening the young women, their aunt, and uncle joined Mrs. Linden’s family, which was made up of just her and her husband, as their son was away with the army, and their daughter was currently staying at a boarding school for young ladies, a little distance outside of London.

Upon meeting them, Mrs. Linden declared herself delighted with the young Bankses and remarked on their beauty. “My, if only my Sarah were here. She would love to meet you both, I’m sure.” They were introduced to other members of the party, some friends of the Lindens.

But as they were about to move to the dining room for dinner, their hostess said, “Well, I don’t know what’s become of him. We were supposed to have another guest, a friend of Mrs. Dove-Lyons and Mrs. Wildemay.”

Anastasia shot a glance at her aunt, who winked.

Moments later, the party was interrupted by a late arrival.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Linden.” Mr. Hardwicke entered the room. “I was detained and lost track of the time.”

Anastasia shared a look with her sister and then her aunt, feeling wariness pass through her.

This was her aunt’s and Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s work, for certain.

Anastasia ignored Betsey’s grin and her aunt’s smile and did her best to maintain a polite expression.

But she rubbed her hands on the sides of her dress, a light blue one that evening, in a move to calm her sweaty hands.

The men and women all were introduced, but when Mr. Hardwicke was introduced to the Banks women, he eyed Anastasia and said, “We are acquainted.”

For her part, Anastasia looked elsewhere and tried not to blush. But it was hard when she could feel his gaze upon her, drinking in the sight of her. As Anastasia joined the group at dinner, Mr. Hardwicke pulled out her chair for her and then took a seat beside her.

“Mr. Hardwicke,” she uttered, trying not to blush.

“Miss Banks.” He sat down beside her.

A little warm thrill went through her. He was here. Mr. Hardwicke sat just a foot away. He turned his head toward her and murmured, “I must speak with you.”

She swallowed and waited as a servant filled her wineglass. Helping herself to a sip of white wine, she felt she needed the fortification to get through this meal. How could she sit and exchange pleasantries when her heart was pounding?

Then she remembered, she was supposed to be mad at him.

“Mr. Hardwicke, did I hear rightly?” Mrs. Linden asked across the table. “Is it true that you are engaged? My servant bumped into Mrs. Mattis’s servant girl at the market and she said the notice would be in The Times any day now.”

Heads turned. Anastasia joined the group in glancing at him. She’d wanted to look at him all evening since he’d arrived, but hadn’t dared, for fear she would be showing too much interest.

He sipped his wine. “No, Mrs. Linden. A little rumor that went too far, I fear.”

Anastasia dared hope. She squirmed in her chair, restless. So he wasn’t engaged?

Mrs. Linden, a woman of middle age with solid gray hair and a pointed nose, gave a little pout. “What a shame, for I do so love a wedding. Quite a rumor to be spreading, though. What could have started it, I wonder?”