Page 7 of Lyon on the Lam (The Lyon’s Den)

I t was a glorious morning, from what Tavie could tell through the cloudy kitchen window.

Every morning for the past week she’d sat and listened to the world move past her.

Carts rattled and hooves clip-clopped on the packed earth.

Tack jangled, and pedestrians’ heels clicked on the wooden walks outside the shops.

The bell rang. Tavie drew in a breath that began at her toes and worked its way up her body. It came out in a rush as she set her teacup in its saucer. The kitchen door swung open with a swish .

“Good morning, Matthew,” Tavie said as she filled the cup that sat in its customary place in front of the empty chair across from her.

“Good morning, Tavie.” He took his seat and plucked two sugar cubes from the dish she nudged his way. He stirred, clinking his spoon against the china five times. Never more, never less.

Tavie refilled her cup, topping the cold contents with hot. “Yes, I slept well. Yes, I’m eating well.” Every day away from Albert’s house improved her spirits. Her ague was fading. “Yes, Hildie is treating me well, and yes, I’ve had a letter from Bessie. But no, there is still no movement.”

“It’s a delicate issue, finding a member of Parliament who—”

“Who will betray another member. Yes. I know .” Tavie had expected that finding an open-minded and trustworthy gentleman would take time. Just not this much time. If no one was willing to help, she’d be forced to return home and… “Can we talk of something else?”

“Tavie.” He drew her name out as part of a tired sigh.

“Matthew, you come here every morning, have a cup of tea, and ask me the same questions. Then you come at night, ensure I’ve had a pleasant day, and go on your way to who knows where.”

He sat for a moment, staring at her, before standing and leaving the kitchen. If he hadn’t left his hat and coat, she would’ve thought he’d been driven away.

In a moment, he returned with two plates filled with bacon, eggs, potatoes, and scones. He set one in front of her and kept the other for himself.

“What if I’ve already eaten?” she asked.

“You never eat first thing in the morning,” Matthew said as he buttered a scone. “Not until you’ve had at least two cups of tea, and I think that’s your second.”

“Not quite.” Tavie speared a bite of egg. “My first cup went cold while I was looking through the window.”

Matthew glanced out the cheaply made window. “At what?”

“I try to guess what’s passing by. I can make out vague shapes and colors, but not the specifics. It could be an oxcart driven by a pensioner or a coach driven by a man in livery.” She shrugged. “I’ve made it a game to pass the time.”

“When you aren’t doing dishes.” He used his knife to indicate her hands. “I’m certain Hildie could find another chore if you need to keep busy.”

“She wants me to stay hidden,” Tavie said. “And I like doing dishes. Warm water makes everything better.” She spread a spoonful of preserves onto half a scone. “What are your plans today?”

“I have a meeting about a new property I’m considering. In Suffolk.”

“You’re traveling to Suffolk today?” She wanted to feel jealous. He could be outside all he wanted and travel wherever he wished. But larger feelings overwhelmed her. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.

His eyes met and held hers. “I’m meeting with my banker and my man of business. I won’t leave London until…for a few weeks yet.”

The tightness in her chest eased. Her reliance on him left a bitter taste, but not quite so much as last week. “Thank you, Matthew.”

He was still staring at her. “You’re welcome, Tavie.”

His smile made her stomach flip. Years ago, she hadn’t understood that feeling. Now, she grasped it better and understood how dangerous it could be. “So, just the meeting about the property?” Business was always a safe path for conversation.

“No. I have a meeting with Andrew Woods about his corn crop. We visited last week at the theatre, and he’s hinted he’d like to mill it.”

If the Woods family had attended the theatre with Matthew and his mother, there was likely a hint of another partnership. “Did Rebecca attend as well?”

Of course she did, you daft girl. Her parents wouldn’t leave her on her own, and she’d be stupid not to set her cap for Matthew.

“She did,” Matthew said. “ A Midsummer Night’s Dream was onstage. Did I tell you that?”

He hadn’t. It was his favorite, and they always argued over which was better, that or Much Ado About Nothing , which was her preference. “I’m sure you had a wonderful evening.”

Now she was jealous, which was an unfamiliar feeling. It was also a useless waste of energy. Once her fears over Albert’s schemes were confirmed, she would have no option but to divorce him. Her parents would never take her back, and Society would be closed to her.

She could possibly live in Norfolk with James, but Matilda was too annoying, and they already had their hands full with Thea and Millie. That left trade.

Perhaps Hildie would keep her on to wash dishes.

“Tavie? Did you hear me?”

Matthew’s touch was warm on the back of her hand, and his calluses teased her skin. Alarm bells tolled in her head. She pulled away and wrapped her fingers around her napkin. “I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes dimmed as he went back to his side of the table. “Is that a new dress?”

“No.” Tavie looked down at the simple gray dress Matthew had hated so much a week before. “Kate altered it for me. She really is an excellent seamstress.”

Matthew drew a sharp breath, long and deep enough that it seemed to steal the air from the room. The same air that chilled her bare arms. Her shawl had slipped.

Across the table, his knuckles were white.

“Don’t ruin Hildie’s fork.” Tavie wrestled her wrap back to her shoulders. “She’ll never feed you again.”

“This isn’t a joke, Tavie. You should see a doctor.”

She’d seen far too many doctors in the last few years, most of them in London. They’d recognize her and have no qualms about telling her husband where she was. “I’ve never known one who could keep his mouth closed.”

For all she knew, Albert had posted a reward. Surely he was looking for her by now. He never stayed in France long, especially when Parliament was in session.

“I’m sure Hildie knows one nearby who doesn’t frequent Mayfair.” Matthew cleaned his lips with his napkin before dropping it onto the table. “It might not be the best option, but if there’s nothing broken—”

“They’re just bruises, Matthew. They’ll heal.”

“How do you—”

“Because they do.” Tears stung her eyelids. “They always do.”

Before she could blink, he’d hauled her from her chair and into his arms. His coat was soft against her forehead, and the scent made her think of nights walking in his mother’s garden. Tavie felt warm for the first time in five years.

“This is far too fine for me to cry on.” She put her palms against his chest and pushed.

Matthew backed away but didn’t release her. “He’s cruel to you.”

One thing marriage to Albert had taught her—cruelty came in many different varieties.

“He doesn’t beat me,” she whispered. “He just isn’t…gentle.”

Her cheeks heated. His lips thinned. This was not a conversation a married woman should have with a gentleman, especially a former beau. And a lady certainly would never discuss the reasons for her husband’s frustrations and her failures in her responsibilities.

“Leave it be, Matthew. Please.”

He arranged her shawl across her shoulders and nodded. “As you wish. I just hope I didn’t make them worse.”

“You didn’t.” Tavie blinked rapidly to stave off the tears. She would not weep in front of him. One moment of weakness, and he’d drag the entire sordid tale from her. It would be just like the night her parents crowed over her engagement.

The grandfather clock Hildie kept in the front room chimed the hour.

“Damn it,” Matthew muttered as he checked his watch. “I have to go.” He glanced up at her as he returned it to his pocket. “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine.” Tavie pushed him toward the door. “Go, have your meetings and then tell me everything tonight. If you have time, go for a walk in the park and describe the flowers to me.”

Just don’t walk in the park with Rebecca Woods.

Matthew took one last look at her and nodded before he left the room. Tavie waited until she heard the front door close, then checked the window and watched what she thought was his figure as he disappeared into the crowd.

Then she sat across from his empty chair, put her head on the table, and wept.

“Charlotte has been anticipating this evening since we received your invitation.” Will touched his whiskey glass to Matthew’s. “I should thank you, but I worry that she’ll next be dreaming of our having our own box.”

Matthew laughed, which he’d been doing more than usual tonight. Charlotte Davis was a charming young lady, and it was clear that her new husband was captivated. “Charlotte has made Mother’s last night in London a treat.”

It wasn’t a lie. Mother loved meeting new people, and he was glad that the box wasn’t filled with suitable parents of marriage-aged daughters.

But the reality was that Will and Charlotte Davis’s happiness made Matthew recall a past that was a mix of pleasure and pain. After five years, he’d grown accustomed to the twinges that the memories of Tavie inspired. It was like a blister from a plow growing into a callus.

Then Tavie had reappeared and ripped everything open again. So now, instead of escaping female gossip, he was standing with a drink and trying not to think about how much she would have enjoyed the last aria and how quickly she and Charlotte would become friends.

“I’ve posted the letter to Suffolk,” Will said. “Your visit to the Good Lady Miller and her daughter will likely send them into a dither.”

Matthew doubted that. Few things alarmed country wives. “I can’t be expected to buy the property sight unseen.” And a few days out of the city would be a welcome respite.

Though the reason he needed a trip to the country was the same reason he couldn’t take one.