Page 34 of Lyon of Scotland (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

“Father!” Charles said. “Miss—Hannah,” he said, stumbling over what to call her. “I did not know any of that, and I am not sure what he is talking about. But I came with him because of the drawings. He was incensed.”

“I am incensed!” Dove roared. “You, girl, are taking way the privilege my son would have had. Those blasted drawings, that damned royal crest, should be his work! I want it destroyed, do you hear? Or I will destroy you and Strathburn both. Give me those designs and pay what you owe—or go to debtors’ prison while your husband is charged with smuggling.

I swear I will find a way to get rid of both of you.

Troublesome Scots. Always causing problems. Taking what I want—what I care about—”

“Your threats will never hold.” Hannah stood then, toe to toe with him, so fast that he was startled and stepped back to keep his balance.

“Tea, sir?” Nell came toward him, holding a silver teapot.

“No tea! Get out. I am talking to Miss Gordon.”

“Lady Strathburn. And I believe she does not want to talk to you.”

“Good God, send your housekeeper away!” he told Hannah.

“I am not the housekeeper! I am Lady Cameron!” Nell said loudly.

A tall girl, she raised the silver teapot high and brought it down on the side of Dove’s head with a heavy clang. His eyes popped wide and he stumbled back, dropping to the sofa, which sagged under him. He raised a hand to his head just as Charles dove toward him.

“Father!” He knelt beside him, then looked at Nell. “What have you done!”

“Only what he deserved,” Nell said, and calmly set the pot aside.

Stunned, silent, Hannah realized it held no water. The girl had brought a weapon.

“Aye, empty,” Nell told her. “Why waste good tea on this horrible man?”

Dove lay sprawled on the sofa, blood trickling from a lump on his head. He groaned as Charles sat beside him.

“Put this on his head,” Hannah said then, picking up a linen tea towel.

“We do not want to spoil the damask.” She sat on Dove’s other side.

He looked pale and dazed as she wadded the cloth and pressed it against his head.

He moaned, leaning back, and Charles took the cloth to continue to hold it to his father’s head.

“Now what?” Charles asked his father. “What do we do now?”

“Uhh,” Dove said.

“I sent the maid to fetch a constable,” Nell said. “Your father could be charged for assault and threatening Lady Strathburn. Do you want ice for your head, Mr. Dove?”

“Uhhnnh,” Dove said.

“Sorry, we have no ice today,” Nell snapped. Hannah suppressed a nervous laugh, uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

“Thank you, Lady Cameron,” she simply said.

“A good housekeeper is worth her weight in gold,” Nell said.

“So is a good sister-in-law. Sir Frederic, do not move. Stay there. We should fetch a doctor for you.”

“Eventually,” Nell muttered. “Perhaps.”

“Miss Gor—Lady Strathburn. Lady Cameron,” Charles said. “Truly, I did not mean for any of this to happen. I do not even know half of what he was saying to you!” He shook his head, holding the cloth to catch the blood trickling down Dove’s temple.

“Why did you tell him about the drawings, Charley? I shared a secret with you. I trusted you. They are my property, and do not belong to the College of Arms. I did that work on my own.”

“I am sorry. He was upset after a meeting with Sir George—he went in demanding that I have more responsibility. So I told him the drawings were already done and perhaps you would send them to Sir George and I could finish them. But I was wrong. He lost his wits over it and insisted we go north and take the drawings from you.”

“I want you to run that place,” Dove said. “Since you have no ambition for yourself, I must do it—”

“No, you must let me be,” Charles said. “And Lady Strathburn, too. I came with him to dissuade him,” he went on to Hannah. “I thought he might do violence over those sketches.”

“He might indeed,” Hannah said in wry tone.

“What sketches are these?” Nell asked, puzzled.

“The king’s Scottish armorials. I designed them and then I gave them to Dare.”

“Oh, well done,” Nell said. “He did say you were in the heraldry office in London. I had no idea about the rest.

“Father wants me to have the credit so Naylor and the king will be impressed. Otherwise I am worthless, he says.”

“You are,” Dove said. “I am making something of you. All for you—my estate—”

“Stop it,” Charles said.

“You are not worthless at all, Charley Dove,” Hannah said. “But the privilege of the new Scottish designs must stay with Scotland.”

“I agree. I told him so. But you know my father.”

“Oh, I do.”

“But why did he ask for money? He has plenty.”

“That is a long tale, my friend,” she said.

“A carriage! Must be the constable.” Nell went to the foyer to open the door.

“Is Hannah here? Have you seen a man called Dove?” Dare stepped inside with Linhope and Hugh Cameron. With a gasp of relief, Hannah hurried toward them.

Nell pointed. “They are in there. Lord Linhope, we need a doctor.”

“What the devil!” Dare held Hannah with one arm for an instant. “Are you fine?’

“Fine,” she said, and he strode into the room. “Dove, what are you doing here?”

“Hold off,” Linhope said. “Let me look at that wound.” He sat at Dove’s other side, as Charles still tended to his father. “What happened?”

“Lady Cameron hit him with a teapot,” Hannah said.

Dare huffed. She wondered if it was anger, laughter, or both.

While Linhope examined the patient, Hannah and Nell explained what had transpired. Seeing Dare’s outrage beginning to simmer, Hannah set a hand on his arm.

“Hold off, as Linhope says,” she told him. “I told Dove his threats will not hold with us. And then Nell took care of him quite smartly.”

“She did.” He twitched his lips.

“I sent the maid for a constable. He should be here soon,” Nell said.

“You did the man a disservice, Lady Cameron,” Linhope said. “He will be dizzy for a week. He will have to rest.”

“Not here!” Nell said. “Send him to a hotel or send him home.”

“Lord Lyon, please let me apologize for my father,” Charles said. “I tried to stop him. I know he can be—arrogant. Hateful, at times,” he added.

Dare listened as Charles told him about Dove’s ambition for Charles, wanting his son to have more credit for his work.

“I see,” Dare said then. “I will talk to Sir George when I return to London soon. You deserve to be recognized for your part in the English armorial designs. Those are excellent, lad. But I want the Scottish office to present the king’s Scottish arms.”

“I agree, sir. I cannot thank you enough.” Charles looked at his father in dismay.

“Now, what to do with the man?” Hugh Cameron said, having been patiently listening. “The constable may decide to take him to the Tolbooth—wait. The Tolbooth is shut down now. We have Calton Hill jail. Horrible place,” he said, looking at Dove. “I am sure he does not want to go there.”

Sir Frederic sat up. “I feel sick. Terrible headache. Your housekeeper can look forward to a warrant for assault.”

“She is Lady Cameron,” Hugh told Dove. “And she may charge you with assault and forceful entry in this house. Lady Strathburn has full right to accuse you of that, too. Which do you prefer? The Scottish court may favor Scottish ladies, I warn you.”

“You have other warrants of assault coming at you too,” Dare said. “In London and here in Edinburgh. Watch for notice of those. I think the next month will be very uncomfortable for you, sir. By the by, this gentleman, Mr. Cameron, is an excellent solicitor, should you require legal advice.”

“Damnation, get me out of here,” Dove told Charles.

“We are leaving on a steamer this afternoon,” Charles said. “Can he travel?”

“I advise rest, but where he stays will be up to the constabulary,” Linhope said.

“Now who is at the door?” Nell said as heavy knocking sounded on the door once again. “That has to be the constable by now.” She opened the door. “Oh! Sir Walter!”

Hannah stood just as Dare did, and saw Sir Walter Scott, Oliver Huntly, and a third man step into the foyer.

“Oh dear God.” She grabbed Dare’s arm. “Whitworth!”