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“T hank you for agreeing to accompany me this evening,” Duncan said as they crossed the open area before the Lyon’s Den together. Without discussing their actions, Richard and Alexander Dutton flanked Duncan as they entered the gaming hell.

“Good evening, my lords,” Titan said with a bow. “If I might say so, sir, it is excellent to view you out and about, Lord Duncan.”

“Good evening, Titan,” Duncan said. “I do not believe I ever thanked you properly for the personal care you provided me the night of the shooting. If you ever require a favor from my family, do not hesitate to ask. I am your servant.”

“I was honored to be of service to you, my lord,” the man said with a small bow and a large smile. “Though you are likely better off with Mr. Rheem’s care, I was quite ill-struck not to be in a position to remove the bullet myself.” The man held up his maimed hand as part of his jest.

“At the time, I would have been thankful for your attempt,” Duncan said with a nod of approval.

Titan bowed again. “I am to tell you Mrs. Dove-Lyon is exceedingly glad to view your return to the Den.”

“If the lady would care to join us, my ‘sons’ and I would be joyous for her company,” Duncan said graciously.

“I will relay your sentiments, my lord,” Titan assured, “and your pleasure tonight.”

“If I know anything of Lords Orson and Marksman, a proper meal is our first requirement,” Duncan ordered.

“Permit me to have Theseus to show you the way. As it is Saturday, both the gentlemen’s smoking room and lounge are a bit loud and active. I pray they shan’t disturb you too much. Several bets are progressing simultaneously. I beg your tolerance.”

“We will be satisfied to permit the others their frivolity,” Duncan declared with a smile of goodwill.

Finally settled at their table, having endured multiple stops for a variety of gentlemen to greet Duncan and comment on his quick return to health, though Richard was well aware that a man of lesser fortitude and stubbornness, would still be in his bed, and some of them in their graves, they were able to discuss what was truly on their minds.

Once they were settled at their table, Marksman asked, “What did you and Theodora learn today?”

“Not as much as either of us would have liked,” Richard explained, leaning forward a bit so others within the room could not overhear him, “but, as I expected, the women with whom Lady Emma has associated of late are very loyal to her and are willing to ask questions and report back to either Theodora or me. One thing of significance we learned is someone has been sending Lady Emma messages. I do not yet know the nature of these messages, and none of the women repeated the contents of them to me or Theodora, but they seemed to think the man sending Lady Emma these notes meant her harm. At a minimum the women characterized them as ‘threatening.’”

“Demanding a ransom perhaps,” Marksman surmised.

“For what?” Duncan asked. “It is true that Lady Emma’s reticule is missing, but I cannot imagine her ladyship carrying more than a few coins upon her.

Unless she required the services of a hackney, everything else she wished to purchase would be sent to an account with her father’s man of business to pay. ”

“What of her mention of missing three of something?” Marksman asked. “Three gold coins? Three bracelets? Three ribbons? Three vials of smelling salts? What else might a lady carry in her reticule?”

“I doubt if someone would threaten to kill her for three vials of smelling salts,” Duncan said sarcastically. “Moreover, we do not know when the reticule was cut from her wrist. Was it an actual robbery or was the cloth removed to make her ladyship’s attack appear to be one?”

“All excellent questions,” Richard summarized. “Until Lady Emma can recall at least some of the details, we are casting our lines into a pond with no fish.”

“Speaking of fish,” Duncan warned, “our meal has arrived, as well as a few more lords, who are working their way towards our table. Let us hold the rest of our conversation regarding Lady Emma until our coach ride home.”

The words were barely out of Duncan’s mouth before two very inebriated young lords staggered their way. “Marksman, you’ll join us in a game, will you not?”

“I have yet to have my supper,” Marksman responded. “Perhaps later.”

“Do not be...” one of the men began his protest, but a member of the Lyon’s Den staff appeared at the pair’s sides. “Your friends be waitin’ for you, my lords. They asked me to discover to where you’d disappeared.”

The two men frowned, but a simple shrug said they would return to the gaming room. As they walked away, the Lyon’s Den’s man said, “Mrs. Dove-Lyon has presented me with orders to see that your meal is pleasurable, my lords.” He motioned to where the woman stood by the entrance to the dining room.

“The lady may join us if she wishes,” Duncan told the man, before nodding his greeting to the woman.

“I will present Mrs. Dove-Lyon with your invitation, my lord, but the lady is, generally, very regimented as to when she eats and what. Moreover, she refuses to remove her veil in public, making it more problematic to eat in a public room such as this one. Additionally, she cannot appear to show any of her patrons favoritism, but she did instruct me to tell you when you are prepared to speak to her, she will await you in her office. I will gladly make the necessary arrangements for an escort when you have finished your meal.”

“Your name, sir?” Duncan asked.

“At the Lyon’s Den, I am known as ‘Lysander.’”

“As in A Midsummer Night’s Dream ,” Marksman stated the obvious.

“Though I have not personally read Shakespeare’s play, I understand Lysander is a handsome young man from Athens who is deeply in love with Hermia and finally wins the lady’s hand,” the gaming hell’s man said.

“How do you feel about the comparison?” Richard asked.

The man smiled and winked. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.”

“He has you there, gentlemen,” Duncan declared. “Follow Lysander’s recipe for falling in love. Now, let us enjoy our meal.”

In Richard’s opinion, the meal had been passable, but he really could not tell anyone what he had eaten.

His mind was on Lady Emma. After church services tomorrow morning, he would set out for Buckinghamshire.

He would see her again. It felt as if it had been forever.

Yet, he knew it had only been a matter of days.

“What is on your mind?” Duncan asked. “You appear deep in thought.”

Marksman chuckled. “The same thing upon which our Richard has been considering for more than a year.”

“You are a moron,” Richard groused. “I am simply worried about the lady. Graham wrote of her memory of the yellow lilies. Such is why Theodora and I called upon her ladyship’s acquaintances.

Has Lady Emma recalled other parts of her life?

What if remembering is too confusing? Too frightening for her? ”

“Graham is there to claim your place at the woman’s side. So is Beaufort,” Marksman said with a grin of apparent mischief.

“Do not purposely torment Richard,” Duncan warned. “Someday it will be your heart which is thoroughly engaged, hopefully with my daughter, but, even if it is not, I would not have you abused by others.”

Marksman sat straighter, but he made no further comment.

Richard was confident Alexander Dutton, Earl Marksman, held Lady Theodora Duncan in affection, but the young earl—and at four and twenty years of age, Marksman was one of the younger peers in the House of Lords—had set himself the task of finding his mother and sister before he started his own family, and, though Theodora knew sympathy for Alexander’s loss of family, the girl must consider whether the Earl of Marksman would ever be prepared to settle with not knowing the fate of his immediate family.

Duncan motioned the man called Lysander to the table. “If Mrs. Dove-Lyon has the time, we would be pleased to speak to her now.”

“Permit me to inform Titan,” the man said with a bow, “so he might relay the message to the mistress.”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon does not customarily converse with multiple gentlemen at the same time,” Titan warned as they made their way through several doors and short passageways towards the upper levels of the Lyon’s Den.

“I understand,” Duncan said as he paused briefly on the stairs to catch his breath.

Richard moved up beside him. “We may do this at another time, my lord. Unless Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s business concerns something regarding your injury, it may wait.

Marksman and I will see you home, where you might rest properly.

This is your first outing, and we do not wish to inflict more injury on your person from overexertion.

At the beginning of the week, I was still steadying you on the stairs. ”

“I should have thought,” Titan said. “If you wish to go on, my lord, I will fetch several of my men to carry you. I apologize for not anticipating your needs.”

Duncan said a bit breathily. “I would prefer to continue, assuming it is not much further.”

“Marksman,” Richard ordered. “Duncan’s weight rests on our shoulders. Your arms, sir, around our necks.”

“It will be tight,” Marksman advised.

“Nevertheless, Lord Macdonald Duncan has always found a means to carry us forward,” Richard declared. “And we will do the same for him.”

Marksman nodded his own determination, and, together, they lifted Duncan upward in a manner which would have appeared to someone above as if Lord Duncan were walking on air, for his lordship’s foot touched each step, but the man placed no weight on it.

In less than a minute, Duncan, Marksman, and Richard were straightening the lines of their coats.

“Impressive-looking door,” Marksman whispered as Titan knocked on Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office door. Richard had had the same thought when he had previously called upon the woman with Hartley and Thompson.

A female voice called, “Come.”