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C rispin stopped walking as soon as he heard the voice. The servant escorting him, a young footman, continued a few more steps before he noticed. They were outside the Black Widow’s office and the voice booming out from behind the door was unmistakably rustic American. His future father-in-law, no doubt.

How old and disfavored could his bride be that her father crossed an ocean to arrange a marriage through the Lyon’s Den? Keep walking , he told himself. There is no other way .

“Lord Morgan,” the footman spoke up as he motioned to the office door. “You’re expected.”

Closing the gap between them, Crispin nodded his acceptance of his fate. A year ago, he swallowed down his concerns and held his tongue as his sister married a monster. He was a fool to think his mere presence would keep Dunwoody in check. This is for Mary-Alice , he told himself as the footman opened the door and announced his arrival.

“Welcome, Lord Morgan.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon motioned to the unoccupied chair in front of her massive oak desk. “May I present Mr. Hardy Carmody of Singsee Island of the Northern Territories.”

“ Ziinzi Island is a trading post in Upper Canada,” Mr. Carmody corrected her as he eagerly extended his hand. “I hear you’re in a pickle. Let’s talk.”

“Charmed,” Crispin muttered the first polite word that jumped into his mind along with all the questions and curses. “Indeed, we should discuss this matter.” He turned to the Black Widow with a question in his eyes. Had she told Mr. Carmody about Mary-Alice?

“No worries,” Carmody said, grabbing his hand and pumping away as if expecting oil. “I don’t know your particulars and I don’t much care. I care about my daughter and her future.”

“As a father would.” Taken aback by Carmody’s loudly confident rudeness, Crispin disengaged his hand and sat down heavily. Whatever Mrs. Dove-Lyon had shared of his situation, he was certain Mr. Carmody was aware a life was at stake. But were all frontiersmen so bold and brash?

“Didn’t figure you for the shy sort, young man. Mrs. Dove-Lyon here tells me you asked for my daughter specifically.”

Asked? What? Oh dear. He’d asked the Black Widow for her toughest case, and it appeared she delivered. Based upon his beaming face, Carmody was innocent of the Black Widow’s assessment of his daughter. He’d distinctly specified a bride with money. While Carmody’s sense of style was garish, his clothes and shoes were quality goods. The man had deep pockets.

“Has your daughter been made aware of this… arrangement?” he asked carefully.

“Of course,” Carmody bellowed out his response and slapped his knee. “I could hardly throw a surprise wedding. Picture that! She’s a darling, my girl Birdy. Sent her to school over in Montreal and she’s as smart as any man I’ve ever met. Maybe even me.” Carmody laughed at his own words and slapped his knee again.

“ Birdy ? Is that a family name?” Crispin asked, just to stall time. His pointed looks at Mrs. Dove-Lyon were being ignored. She was not going to save him and reveal this all to be a bad joke.

“Nenokaasi is my little hummingbird. Her mother and I called her Birdy. May she rest in peace.” Carmody’s explanation was wistful, and Crispin felt a wave of compassion for the man. He genuinely loved his wife. The knowledge made today’s arrangement all that more curious.

“I expected to meet your daughter this evening. It would be helpful to see that our temperaments match.” What kind of name was Nenokaasi ? It sounded exotic and unusual. Not like any American name he’d ever heard.

“Cold feet? Ha!” Carmody leaned back in his chair and smiled a little too widely for Crispin’s comfort. “She’s nearby. I wouldn’t allow a young lady as pretty as my Birdy to be wandering around a den of sin. Listen up, Crispy my boy, my time in your fair country is limited. I have a business to run far across the pond. Now that the skirmishes are over, business is booming. I tell you the goods we ship through our island provide this country and many others with all the comforts of modern life.”

“I’m unfamiliar with your line of business. Do you deal in lumber?” Crispin bristled at being called a “boy” but was determined to find the source of the man’s wealth.

“Lumber, furs, copper, iron, wild rice, maple syrup—all the riches of the North. Everything comes through my little island. I own the trading post and all the docks. Nothing gets in or out without my say-so. Don’t you worry about the money, Crispy. I’m prepared to hold up my end of the bargain. Are you?”

“I am.” The man’s directness, which started as an irritation, was becoming more welcome. Hardy Carmody was the sort of man who could sell a sack of feathers to a flock of birds. Crispin could only hope his daughter’s looks favored her mother over the rough-edged corpulent ginger sitting beside him. “Let us get to business.”

When the carriage pulled up in front of the grand house, Birdy was cautiously eager to see the inside. While dice, cards, and casual bets were a way of life back at the trading post, she’d never been inside an entire building dedicated to gaming and hedonic pursuits.

Just under the excitement lay the fear. What was she getting herself into? Do this for Father , she reminded herself as she allowed one of the servants to show her where to wait while her life was bartered away.

The Lyon’s Den was as fine as any house she’d seen in Montreal. The décor could only be described as lush . Heavy doors blocked sound and thick carpets and rugs dulled footfalls, giving this part of the building a church-like quality.

She would have liked to see the gambling tables here but now was not the time to tarnish her reputation. To her shock, the servant led her to the kitchen at the back of the grand house and abandoned her. Perhaps they thought she’d find the industry in the kitchen distracting, the smells comforting, and the female companionship relaxing. She sighed. And maybe the pots and pans would put on a show.

Oddly, no one in the kitchen appeared surprised at her presence. They smiled and nodded their acceptance and went about their chores. The kitchen was bustling with activity, so Birdy made herself small and pressed herself into a corner so she could watch without hampering their duties.

“Excuse me,” a small voice called out.

It took Birdy a second or two to realize someone was trying to get her attention. “I’m sorry,” she whispered back, shuffling to the right, thinking she was blocking someone’s way.

“Are you new here? Would you like to come sit?” The little voice grew stronger, and a woman peeked out from behind an unmarked door. She was a pretty woman with big blue eyes and a dimple on her chin.

“Thank you.” Birdy followed the woman into a small room beside the kitchen and took the offered chair.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the woman remarked. “Most people here call me Lamb . I’m afraid I can’t tell you my real name and I daren’t explain why, but I’d love company.”

“I wonder if you and I are here for the same reason,” she said, taking the offered seat.

“Oh, probably not. I was sick and was brought here for recovery.”

“You’re looking well now.” Birdy looked around the room and took a cautious sniff of the air. “Was it a long sickness?”

“Nothing contagious, if you’re worried. I’ve been here about a week and I’m starving for companionship. The servants are hard-working and kind, but they haven’t the time to entertain me with conversation.”

“I know what it’s like to consider conversation an indulgence.” Whoever Lamb was, she was easy to talk to. She was a small woman in stature, and her thin voice betrayed her recent illness.

“You’re an American, aren’t you?”

“I’m from a little island in Upper Canada. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. My father and I are on holiday. He has business acquaintances in Town, and I begged to come along just for an adventure.” Oh, how innocent she was when she wished for an adventure. She was unprepared for her wish to come true in this manner.

“Why aren’t you gambling or dancing out in the Den? I mean, you’re not dressed for kitchen work. It’s a lovely gown.”

“My father is conducting business with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. For the sake of my reputation, I was not allowed to wander freely.” Birdy couldn’t help but smooth out the skirt and tug on the sleeve of her new gown. She had thought the turquoise blue sarsenet was stunning when it was delivered, and it was a balm to hear that someone else appreciated it.

“My brother recently told me what sort of business they do here,” Lamb said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Is that why you’re here? How exciting.”

“Yes,” Birdy answered, hoping Miss Lamb would reveal to what business she was referring.

“You’re so brave. I wish I had relied on a matchmaker for my husband instead of my father’s recommendation. I was ready for a glorious season but was promised away after only a week. My marriage is a…disappointment. I pray you do better. Do you know anything about the man?”

“No, but my father approves of him. I trust my father.” Birdy’s mood lightened from speaking the words aloud. Miss Lamb’s situation made it easy to confess her fears.

“Most fathers, I should think, would be careful in their selection of a husband for their only daughter.” Miss Lamb sat back and bit her lip for a second before her face collapsed into tears.

“Oh, my dear Miss Lamb, what is wrong? Here, take my hand. Perhaps we can fix it together.”

“I beg your pardon. Sometimes I think of my baby boy and start to cry.”

“Did he not survive?” The source of Miss Lamb’s sickness was suddenly clear, and Birdy could see the weight of her grief etched upon her face.

“He’s alive, I know it. I heard him cry. He was stolen from me, and I don’t know where he is. He must be wondering why his mama doesn’t come for him.”

“What’s his name?”

“It’s so precious to me I haven’t dared to speak his name out loud.” She blinked and snuffled in a breath. “Hammond,” she whispered. “It’s my mother’s family name. I called him by name just once before they snatched him away.”

“It’s good that he knows his name. Keep his name safe in your memory so that as long as you live, so shall he.” Birdy’s heart broke for this beautiful, broken woman. She could only imagine her pain.

“Thank you.” Miss Lamb leaned over and gave her a gentle hug. “I’ll keep him safe there until he’s returned to me.”

“There must be someone who can help you. Where are your people?”

“I don’t have people; I have a brother. He has a plan to obtain the money necessary to help me, but I don’t know when or if he’ll succeed.”

“Does he hope to use the matchmaker you mentioned?”

“He offered to marry her toughest case just to save me. Now I’ve ruined three lives,” she said, and began sobbing quietly once again.

“I’m so sorry,” Birdy whispered as a knot of dread hardened in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’ve already said too much. Crispin would be so cross. I’m such a ninny. Please tell no one that you’ve seen me.”

Realization swept over her. Miss Lamb’s brother was named Crispin. The humbling knowledge was a punch to the gut and Birdy clamped her lips together to keep from crying out. She was the matchmaker’s toughest case. “Your secrets are safe with me. I’m good with secrets,” she said.

“Do you think it will all turn out?” Miss Lamb asked between sniffles.

“I do.” Birdy leaned over and put her arms around Miss Lamb. “Your brother will make everything right. I’m sure of it.” At least he would if she had any say about it. If she married Crispin, she would ask her father if they might fund Miss Lamb’s escape and search for the child.

“Oh my goodness, there you are,” a servant exclaimed from the doorway. “I thought I’d misplaced you.”

“Which of us do you need?” Birdy asked. While it wasn’t the servant who led her to the kitchen, she had a bad feeling they were looking for her.

“Miss Carmody,” the servant replied, looking back and forth between them.

“I’m ready.” Birdy eased herself out of Miss Lamb’s arms and stood to smooth out the creases in her dress. “I’m ready.”

Birdy swallowed down her fear and pasted a benign smile on her face. She felt as if she was being marched to the gibbet, but she refused to show it. Miss Lamb would get the help she needed because Birdy and her father would provide it. Knowing Crispin had vowed to save his sister by any means, including marriage, shouldn’t change her mind on the matter. Crispin Morgan was the kind of man who took care of those he loved no matter the cost to himself. Would he do the same for her one day?

Crispin Morgan had asked for her. Rather, he’d asked for the matchmaker’s toughest challenge. Did her father know that was the case, or did he conveniently not hear that part? If she refused now, she’d ruin both her father’s honor and Miss Lamb’s life. Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. She would save her father’s reputation, and Crispin would save that of his sister. They were equally useful fools in this endeavor.

As she turned the last corner, her father waited ahead near an open door and her heart skipped a beat. Should she run away or keep walking? Was entering the room a surrender or a chance to change lives for the better? Her bottom lip trembled, but she forced it back into place.

“I’m ready.”

“I knew you would be.” Her father smiled his relief. “He’s inside,” he said, nodding toward the room behind him. “I’ll give you two a few minutes to get yourselves acquainted. He’s ready too.”

“Thank you, Father.” She walked by without meeting his eyes, then reached back and closed the door behind her.

“Miss Carmody.” A man spoke up as he approached and bowed. “My name is Crispin Morgan, and I am so very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she managed to croak out as he reached for her hand and brushed his lips across the back of her glove. Even if she hadn’t heard his name, she’d know he was Lamb’s brother. He had the same eyes and the same dimple. Otherwise, he was exactly as her father described.

“I expect you know why you’re here, so I will dispense with that formality. I’d like to begin by thanking you for your acceptance of my offer. Would you like a seat? I can have someone fetch tea or stronger spirits if you prefer.”

“I doubt there’s time. My father will only leave us alone for fifteen minutes. If I were a matchmaker, I’d keep a nice bottle of fortifying port in one of my desk drawers.”

“Let’s see,” he said with a mischievous smile as he began opening drawers. “You were right. Here it is. That was clever of you. I hadn’t thought of it.” He pulled out the bottle and two glasses and placed them on the edge of the desk. “Shall I pour?”

“Please do.” He smiled with his eyes, and Birdy could feel her cheeks warming in a blush. Rather than the bright blue of a jay’s wing, his eyes were the blue-gray color of the big lake in October when the water churned before the ice settled in. Her favorite color in the world. She sat down clumsily as her knees weakened. He was too pretty, too polite, and he did not know she knew how desperate he was.

“I thought you’d be older,” he admitted as he handed her a glass. “Would you mind…”

“I’m twenty-two.” She found some relief in the fact that he was as uncomfortable and unsure as she was. “And you?” He would be judged handsome by any standard, but his pleasing features hid his years well.

“Thirty on the last anniversary of my birth.” He sat down and raised his glass to her before taking a sip.

“A sensible age.” Birdy wrestled with her conscience over what to say next. The man did not know she’d met his sister. No idea that she knew how their pairing came about. She was good at secrets, she reminded herself as she gulped her wine to stop from blurting out all she knew.

“Despite our… circumstances, I’d like you to know that I intend to be a good and faithful husband. I’ve never sanctioned infidelity. I would consider a divorce to be a personal failure.”

“That was a lovely reassurance, Lord Morgan.” His earnestness was oddly endearing, and she couldn’t help smiling at him. He’d think she was flirting and maybe he was right. He was a handsome man, after all. If he hadn’t been scared away by her father, he must be brave as well. “Once I speak the vows, I will abide by them.”

“Good,” he said, nodding his head. “Just to be clear, as I don’t intend to misrepresent myself, I’m only Lord Morgan by way of a courtesy title. My father is the Earl of Angleswood and as his heir presumptive, I’ve been extended the courtesy of his lesser title, Baron Morgan. I hope you are aware of this. Your father appeared a little confused about the matter.”

“He had heard your father was an earl and elevated you to the same rank. My father sometimes hears what he wants to hear, but he means well.” Birdy blushed with embarrassment and looked away. Crispin would think her father was simple when it was the farthest thing from the truth.

“Please,” he said, taking her hand in his. “You’ve shown no disrespect to him. He thinks of your best interests. That man could have sold me my own boots, and I’d have paid dearly for them. He’s a master tradesman and negotiator. I’ve no doubt everything he does has a higher purpose that I’m too dull to understand. There are many things I could learn from him.”

“I, um…” She couldn’t form words with him holding her hand so tenderly, so she snatched it away and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “He is a good father.”

“I’m wasting our time alone by upsetting you. What shall we talk about?”

“Do you have family?” Birdy held her breath, waiting for his response.

“My father, Lord Angleswood, is still among us, and my sister…” his voice trailed off for a second. “My sister has left Town.”

“I have a brother, Brody, who is minding things back at the trading post.” Why was he pretending his sister wasn’t sitting downstairs near the kitchen? What was his game? “Perhaps your sister and her husband will come to Town for the wedding.”

“I don’t think so.” Crispin looked away and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Lord Dunwoody is a blackguard. He never deserved her, but at least he won’t get a chance to hurt her again.”

“I beg your pardon for upsetting you. Shall we speak of the weather now?” He’d answered so carefully but still revealed much. His sister’s marriage had been a thorn in his side. Keeping her hidden away at the Lyon’s Den was somehow protecting her. If so, it spoke well of his honor. Such a man would protect his own family.

“Thank you for that. I’m so relieved you have a sense of humor. As you can see,” he said as he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, “It’s a raw subject.”

“If you want to tell me, I’m very good with secrets.” This time, she reached out for him and placed her hand on his arm. “I have a feeling everything is going to turn out the way it ought.”

“How do you do that? I almost believe you.”

“A little lamb told me.” If the word ‘lamb’ meant anything to him, he didn’t show it.

“I think you mean a little bird,” he said, with a question in his eyes.

“Either way.” She’d ignore the unasked question. She wouldn’t reveal all she knew until after the vows were spoken. When the time was right, she’d know.

The soft knock from the door couldn’t be her father. He was more of a barge right in sort of fellow. She consciously clasped her hands demurely in her lap and scooted her chair away from Crispin. Despite their unusual circumstances, there could be no hint of impropriety.