Page 30 of Love, Lies, and the Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“He what?” Uncle Richard asked. “When was this?”

“At the Royal Exhibition.”

“I didn’t know this,” Aunt Mildred said. “That’s it. You are never going there again.”

Anastasia shook her head. “It’s no use. He threatened to tell people if I did not pay him fifty pounds. He has a letter I wrote from seven years ago, telling him I never wished to see him again and to not contact me. I never imagined he might tell a newspaper man.”

“Such a sum…” Uncle Richard murmured.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon shook her head. “That doesn’t surprise me. When he was a guest at my establishment, he ran up debts and struggled to pay. If we had not thrown him out when we had, I’m sure we would have done so soon enough.”

“That’s all very well, but what are we to do?” Aunt Mildred asked. “Anastasia’s reputation is ruined. Betsey’s is ruined. I myself cannot go out in society. Not until this is resolved.”

Anastasia stiffened. Ruined. She was ruined.

To hear her aunt say it aloud made it sound so final.

She couldn’t hide anymore. But what of Mr. Hardwicke?

No doubt he would hear of this too. What would he think?

Would he even want to see her again, or would he believe the newspaper and take it as truth?

Her teacup rattled in the saucer she held, and she set it down.

“The only way through this is to deny all allegations and base them on false gossip. I will write to the editor myself and explain the situation. I am a credible source, and many in Town know my word to be true.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice was cold.

“I will press upon him the need to set the facts straight and write a retraction for tomorrow’s edition.

It doesn’t do for a newspaper to print false rumors.

Too many people’s lives and reputations can be hurt by idle words and fresh ink.

” To Aunt Mildred, she said, “I think it best your family does not attend my soiree this evening, until the newspaper comes out again. You might feel uncomfortable.”

Anastasia’s shoulders drooped. So that was why the infamous Black Widow of Whitehall had come calling.

Not only to show sympathy, but to retract an invitation.

She felt cut to the quick and gripped the hard wooden seat beneath her, so hard it creaked.

But alternatively, she was the only one who had come to offer help and had a solution.

At that point, Anastasia would stand on her head or leave the country if it meant resolving this.

She thought of Betsey. She’d never meant to hurt her with her past actions. She’d never meant for her to know.

“Yes, of course,” Aunt Mildred said. “We will stay home. We won’t go out anywhere.”

“Very wise. Might I have a private word with Miss Banks?”

“Certainly. I will go and see how Betsey is doing. She was ever so angry when she found out.” Aunt Mildred rose and beckoned her husband to come with her.

Once they were alone, Anastasia gazed at the guest. Her face hidden by the gauzy, black veil she wore, Mrs. Dove-Lyon appeared both stylish and enigmatic at the same time.

“I am sorry for the circumstances in which you find yourself, Miss Banks. You are not the first young woman to indulge in a youthful indiscretion, or to find her private life the source of fresh gossip. It will take a strong character to ride this out.”

Anastasia nodded. “Is that why you refused my request for help earlier? The conflict of interest you wrote me about, is it because you knew of my background from Mr. Jemisin?”

“No, not at all. I wrote that because your aunt had come to me to engage my services.”

“What?” Anastasia stared at her. “My aunt?”

“Yes. She was most concerned that you were far too interested in setting Betsey up with someone who did not exist. There is no such thing as a perfect man, and in your attempt to protect her from poorer marriage candidates, you overlooked a good one.”

Anastasia’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. And you took her money?”

“Yes. Your aunt and younger sister both wanted me to find a suitable gentleman for you, so that you might find love again. Your sister did not know your past, but she strongly suspected something had happened long ago to make you give up your search for romance. And despite what you and society may think about your marriage prospects, it is not impossible to find love and marry in your late twenties, and I believe you are not meant to be an old maid.”

Anastasia rested her hands on her knees and took a breath. “But you didn’t… introduce me to anyone.”

“I found I didn’t need to. I observed you most carefully when you were in my establishment and found that Mr. Hardwicke seemed particularly drawn to you. When I spoke with him, I learned you two were already acquainted, and he was quite open to the idea of being matched with you.”

Anastasia’s mouth dropped open. Mr. Hardwicke had known? And had gone along with Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s plan willingly? He’d said he’d liked her. And then that kiss in the library at Mrs. Linden’s home… She raised a hand to cool her warm cheeks.

Could she find love again? Could it be for real this time?

Something within her chest seemed to lessen.

A stiffness in her shoulders she had not known had been there, seemed to fall away.

Her left knee began to bob up and down again.

Maybe she’d had a chance, briefly, with Mr. Hardwicke, but he was unlikely to consider her a suitable marriage prospect after this.

What man would want a woman who had thrown it all away in a flight of fancy?

She blinked. Did she love Mr. Hardwicke?

Did she want to marry him? Her hand drifted to her mouth, reminding her of their kiss.

His feather-light touch. And the delicious feel of his kisses against her bare neck. She missed him already.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “With your aunt’s assistance, I simply needed to arrange a few instances where you two might be thrown together.”

Hurt and betrayal warred within Anastasia. Had she really been so intolerable, so unbearable, that her aunt had paid for a matchmaker to distract her so that she would leave Betsey and young Mr. Jemisin alone? The very thought hurt, as all she had been trying to do was protect her younger sister.

But Mr. Jemisin was not a villain like his brother, and it had taken time for her to realize that. Not all siblings are the same. But now her past with Jeremiah might ruin Betsey’s future happiness forever.

“What can I do? I need to fix this. Betsey and Mr. Jemisin… They are in love. It’s obvious to anyone. What if he breaks it off with her because of me and this newspaper business?”

“If his heart is true, then he won’t. But it may not happen overnight. Sit tight, and do not act right away. Let me try to remedy this first,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon counseled.

“And what of Mr. Hardwicke?” Anastasia asked.

“What about him?”

“He has just recently asked if he might court me, formally. He wishes to write to my father back home. Was…” She hesitated. “Was he only paying me attention because he was coerced to?”

Her throat felt tight. Had their kiss, his touch, all been for nothing?

Mrs. Dove-Lyon cocked her head at her. “I do not think any man who truly cares for a woman would show interest where it did not exist, and Mr. Hardwicke is a man of his word. If he asked permission to court you, then I believe his request was genuine. He is possessed of too strong a nature to live a lie. When we spoke, he said there was no need for an introduction, for he already knew you well. And as for my little arrangements to bring you two together, he was very open to the idea. He was already interested to know you better, for he found you… What was it he’d said? ” She tapped her chin.

“I can guess. Obtuse and taciturn yet opinionated?”

“Something like that. But I detected no coldness of feeling, only romantic interest. If he had not been interested, he would have said so, and I would have found another suitable candidate.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose.

“I will take my leave. Please do take my advice, Miss Banks, and do nothing for the present moment. You are the talk of the Town right now, but there are worse things.”

“Like what?” Anastasia tugged at her right earlobe.

“Being not worthy of a news headline at all. For some, they pay for such gossip. You have a smart head on your shoulders, so be patient. Time will tell. Excuse me.” She curtsied and left.

Anastasia left her cold tea and went up to her bedroom.

She wanted to go to Betsey and explain but knew her younger sister was in a foul temper and would not want visitors.

Instead, she closed the door and sat on her bed.

It was not long before she lay down, feeling her body shudder with quiet sobs.

Her reputation was ruined, and worse, it was public.

No doubt Mrs. Sherwood would be sharing copies of the paper with everyone of her acquaintance.

Soon, warm tears soaked her pillow, and Anastasia cried herself out. What would Mr. Hardwicke think of her now? It was a mercy when she finally fell asleep.

When she awoke, it was dark inside her room. Night had fallen. She blinked, her eyes feeling scratchy and sore from crying, when there came a knock at her door.

Anastasia rose and answered it. “Yes?”

“Anastasia,” her aunt began, “have you seen Betsey?”

“What? No. Why?”

“I can’t find her. She’s not in her room.”

Alarm began to grow in the back of Anastasia’s mind. Something was not right. “Perhaps she’s downstairs waiting for dinner?”

“We all fell asleep, so none of us have eaten yet.”

“Could she be down in the kitchen? Maybe she wanted tea or something to eat.”

“It’s possible. Come help me look?”

Anastasia nodded and joined her aunt. As they went downstairs, Aunt Mildred said quietly, “You know, Anastasia, you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Anastasia gripped the banister with her right hand as they walked down the stairs.