Page 4 of Lyon on the Lam (The Lyon’s Den)

She kept a white-knuckled grip on the bag in her lap, and her cloak hid the horrible gray dress.

All he could see were her boots, which were well made and practical, and the hat that had likely been worn by some other woman who had taken refuge at the Lyon’s Den.

She had lifted the veil once they were alone, which gave him a better view of her face.

Five years ago, it had been the dearest sight in the world. He could find Tavie in a room full of people simply by the tilt of her nose. The curve of her lips had left him weak in the knees, and the twinkle in her eye had encouraged him to dare far more than he might have otherwise.

She hadn’t smiled at him once today, and her eyes had changed. They were green, but like empty glass in a dim room, and shadows clung beneath them.

“Stop staring at me, please.” Her voice was as flat as her eyes.

“You used to like it.”

Tavie snorted a dry, humorless laugh. “Well, you used to like me . Are you the only one allowed to change preferences?”

Matthew ground his back teeth together. He was responsible for her safety, not her happiness. He’d keep her from harm until she could present whatever evidence she had to whomever Mrs. Dove-Lyon could convince to hear her. “Where would you like to go?”

Her brows gathered when she frowned. “What?”

“We must put you somewhere, Tavie. Surely you have friends.”

“A few, but they are the first Albert will visit, and I will not make them lie for me.”

But she’d make him lie.

“And don’t look at me like that. I didn’t know you would be involved.” She sighed. “I cannot hide from Society in Society, Matthew. You know that.”

He was forced to nod. His mother didn’t hold a title, but the house was still full of people whenever she was in town.

Dinners, teas, sewing circles…whatever women visited over.

And that didn’t include meetings he held at home.

Even the servants had the opportunity to gossip, and to sell their knowledge to the highest bidder.

He also knew he couldn’t take her to her family. Her father had been blinded by Burridge’s title.

“Then we can place you outside of Society, in an inn, perhaps. What funds do you have?”

“Two pounds, six shillings, and fourteen pence.” Tavie didn’t have to look in her reticule to count it. She was always responsible when it came to money, especially when it was next to nothing. “I could pay for a room in a boardinghouse.”

It was a wise suggestion. Inns saw far too many travelers from all classes. Matthew leaned out the window and gave an address to the driver.

“Where are we going?” Tavie asked.

“To a place I know well. The landlady there will keep you hidden.”

She nodded and fell silent, watching the city pass by them as though she’d never see London again. Perhaps that was what she hoped would happen. Then again, maybe she was learning the path they were taking in case she had to escape and retrace it.

“I will keep my promise, Tavie.”

“Even though you don’t believe me?” Her smile was sad as she kept her gaze on the scenes past the window.

“Matthew, there is something amiss in that house, with his life. France holds too much of a sway for some reason. And the only thing I can think of is that he is selling Britain to France in some way.”

Matthew could think of several other things. “Perhaps he has a mistress there.”

“I have considered that.” Tavie finally met his stare. “But that would mean more money going out than coming in, and that is not always the case.”

She was convinced by whatever she had found, and she wasn’t known to exaggerate. “What evidence do you have?” he asked.

She regarded him for a long few moments. “Lists of deposits, a few key letters, and my own journal of events—meetings and trips that tie to news stories about happenings in France or how the French have frustrated British goals.”

Outside the window, the scene changed. The streets were narrower and the buildings were closely packed together.

People laughed and talked, sounding very much like chickens in a barnyard.

Women in straw hats and woven shawls carried baskets from shop to shop, while their children followed behind.

Laundry hung overhead, creating twisting shadows in the sunshine.

The smells of animals, produce, and roasting meat invaded the carriage.

“He will miss the letters,” Matthew said. “Once he realizes you have left the house, he will check them.”

“Perhaps, though he will not think of it for a few days. He thinks I am worthless for anything that does not involve a social occasion.”

It was the way she said it that gave him pause. “What of your children, Tavie? Would you leave them behind?” It was a cold question, but he needed to know if he was right.

“We have none.”

Three words, no emotion—though she wrapped her arm around her waist as though to protect herself.

It couldn’t be for lack of trying. Every time he’d danced with Tavie, Matthew had thought of little else but making love to her. If they had shared a roof, she would have driven him to distraction.

And if he thought of that, he didn’t have to think of her in Burridge’s bed.

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Then we don’t have to worry about his using them to force you to return. Where is your evidence?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Safe.”

“Tavie, I have promised—”

“You have promised someone else that you’ll keep me safe, even though you don’t believe me. You think what I have gathered is nothing more than gossip and that my claims are nothing more than female pettiness. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you .”

The cab slowed to a stop, its squeaking wheels falling silent. “Here we are.” She lifted her bag and reached for the door. “I am safely stashed away.”

“Wait.” Matthew wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, intending only to stop her so he could exit first.

She drew in a sharp, hissing breath and dropped back to the seat, cradling her elbow close to her body.

He hadn’t gripped that hard, and he hadn’t pulled. But one look into her pale face told him everything he needed to know. She was bruised, and the fact that she wasn’t screaming at him like a vengeful banshee meant it wasn’t the first time.

Matthew opened the door and stepped to the street before reaching back for her. He watched as she descended the steps, looking for any other signs of injury. “Careful.”

“I’m not made of glass, Matthew.”

“We’ll discuss it later,” he snapped. If she told him now, he’d leave her on the threshold and go searching for Burridge himself. She’d never have to worry about his finding her.

Before he could knock, the landlady flung open the door and glared at him. “Ain’t no one here you need to cart out, lad.”

“Good morning, Hildie.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking. “And I haven’t even told you who I’m searching for.”

“Don’t matter. He ain’t here.” Hildie scowled at Tavie. “So if you’ve hired this lout to find your husband, you’ve wasted the coin. Go on w’ ya.”

Matthew stuck his foot in the door and swore as it thwacked his instep. “Damn it, Hildie. I need you to hide the lady.”

The woman who reminded him very much of a small bird, or perhaps a tiny dragon, looked up at him with a narrow gaze. “What’s she done?”

“Left a fiendish husband,” Matthew said. “And she’s a good friend.”

Hildie looked past him to Tavie, assessing her. Then she opened the door. “Come in, girl. Get off the street.”

The entryway was narrow—people could only pass to the back of the house in single file if they didn’t take the stairs to the upper floors. Hildie led them up two flights before stopping at a door in the shadows.

Tavie’s hand slipped into his. “Are you sure you trust her?” she whispered.

He’d had to fish more than one scoundrel from Hildie’s house over the past few years, and she’d fought like the devil to keep him out.

She had a tongue like a razor and her boot heels were even sharper.

“I trust her to keep you safe, no matter who comes to the door.” He winked at Tavie. “She might not even let me back in.”

“You’ll be safer back here,” Hildie said as she opened the door. “People think it’s a closet.”

She led them into a room that was as bright as it could be and cleaner than most. The bed was tucked against the wall beneath the window and a washbasin stood under an oval mirror. A writing desk and chair occupied the opposite wall.

“This is lovely,” Tavie said as she placed her bag in the chair. Her breathing was labored as she swayed on her feet. “Thank you, Mrs.…”

“Hildie’ll do, madam. Now, we’ll leave you be. I’ll have Kate bring up some tea.” The wiry woman all but pushed Matthew from the room and stayed behind him until they’d reached the bottom floor.

“Thank you for doing this, Hildie.”

“It’s not a favor. She looks like she can pay my rate.” Hildie shooed him out. “And she looks like she don’t have a friend in the world, no matter what you might say.”

The door slammed closed behind him.