Page 9 of Lyon’s Obsession (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #91)
T he girl quickly lifted her hand from his. “What was…” she murmured, while Alexander expelled a guttural objection. They paused at the edge of the floor, where she looked upon him in obvious wonderment, one that matched his own perplexion.
Alexander reminded himself to smile. “I have had a similar experience in my private quarters,” he managed to utter, “but always such has found me in my stocking feet. My valet claims it occurs because I do not lift my feet when I walk across the Persian rug.”
She frowned, but said, “I have known something similar, but somehow—”
“This was different,” he finished her thought. Couples circled around them to claim a place in the sets forming for the first dance.
“We should continue, my lord.”
Alexander drove away the embarrassment creeping up his spine and with a nod of his head in affirmation. He offered his arm to her a second time, which she accepted with obvious hesitation, settling her gloved hand on his slowly and in anticipation.
Ironically, the “sizzle” remained, but it was not as prominent as previously.
They executed the necessary steps, and he noted the pleasure on her face.
It was the same kind of pleasure a child might experience when enjoying a new adventure.
He could not recall the last time such wonderment had taken hold of his shoulders and given them a good shake.
He instinctively looked for Theodora, for his heart announced when he last felt that feeling of “wonder” was when he had recently kissed her. In fact, the feeling of receiving happiness at God’s hands was found, at least for him, in Lady Theodora Duncan.
After the opening movements, Miss Moreau circled the gentleman on the left in their set and then returned to Alexander’s side. Even through their gloves, an “awareness” remained. Surprisingly, the sensation was not uncomfortable, and he permitted himself to settle into the task at hand.
“How long will you and Lord Honfleur remain in London?” he asked when they came together a second time.
He noted how she stiffened and how she momentarily dropped her smile before she said, “I cannot speak with any assurances,” prior to dancing away to complete several turns with another gentleman.
When she returned to his side, the girl said, “My uncle has expressed a desire to remain until the end of the Season and perhaps beyond. His daughter, my cousin—” She left him to circle the gentleman opposite her, back-to-back before she continued.
“My cousin’s ship was delayed, and she arrived just before we departed for the masquerade.
” Alexander knew this was a lie, for he had been, for most of the day, at the window of the house the Crown had let.
He had viewed the man leave and return to the house with a dark-haired young woman, of a comparable age as was Miss Moreau, but he said nothing to the contrary.
Nor did he remind the lady that her French accent had essentially disappeared during their conversation.
“My cousin was too exhausted to join us this evening,” she added quickly. They circled each other again, as she explained, “She is to make her Come Out this Season.”
Alexander would inform Beaufort of Honfleur’s plan to bring his daughter out into society. Beaufort could become one of the young woman’s potential suitors. He asked, “Not both of you?”
They stood together at the head of the set while the others completed the form. Miss Moreau said, “Caroline is two years my senior, and she is Lord Honfleur’s daughter.”
Alexander knew a bit of unexplained umbrage with the idea that the girl who he partnered in the dance was to be placed aside for another. He asked in curiosity, “Is Lord Honfleur not your guardian?”
The girl said in obviously rehearsed tones, “Uncle Jacobi came for me when my mother took ill.”
“What of your father?” Alexander asked, unable to control his curiosity.
“We assume he perished at sea. I have not heard from him since I was very young.”
They were required to rejoin the set, and no more questions could be asked. When the second of the dances began, she changed the subject, asking of London’s sights and the differences in the daily lives of those in London compared to those in France.
When the set ended, Alexander had reluctantly returned her to her uncle’s side.
She made the necessary introductions, but it was obvious Honfleur knew of Alexander’s role in this poorly constructed charade they all practiced.
When he stepped away, Alexander felt as if he had deserted the girl.
Watching Honfleur purposely inflict pain on the young woman’s person had him taking a step in the man’s direction to put a stop to Honfleur’s abuse.
Only Richard Orson’s hand on Alexander’s shoulder prevented his actions.
“Not so fast,” Richard said under his breath.
“He is punishing her because she danced with me,” Alexander argued.
“And what will Honfleur do to the girl if you interfere? He is her guardian and can treat her as he pleases. Such is why my lovely Emma believes in the rights of women, but, first, Miss Moreau must reach her majority—actually, live to reach her majority. If you step in and object, what chance will the girl possess? Honfleur could beat her to death and receive no more blame than a slap on the hand. She will survive a few bruises. Meanwhile, you should execute a plan to remove Honfleur permanently from the girl’s life. ”
“Why have not our men learned more of Honfleur, of late?” Alexander asked.
He was not pleased with how slowly their investigation into the French marquis had progressed.
Since his dance with Miss Moreau, he could not shake the idea the lady was in more difficulty than she realized, or, at least, his instincts told him she was not aware of what her uncle and those with whom Honfleur associated planned.
Duncan responded, “We still cannot confirm the legitimacy of Honfleur’s title.”
Alexander grumbled, “Which is likely what he wished.”
Alexander’s friend, Lionel Carter, who was among those in the room, absentmindedly flipped a knife over and over in his hand. After one impressive catch, Lionel said, “Followed the chit identified as his daughter when she be out walking in the park with her maid.”
“Anything significant?” Alexander asked.
Lionel shrugged as he always did when he was called upon to report before others beyond Alexander.
“Only thing of note be she stopped and picked up a piece of folded-over paper from the ground, near a tree, not on the main path. Stuffed it in her pocket. Then the chit returned home. Did’nae notice me fer she can’t be seeing those below her. ”
Alexander heard his friend’s bitterness: Although his place in society had known a step upward, thanks to Alexander’s interference, like him, Lionel still knew a certain portion of regret at leaving behind loved ones to fend for themselves.
Although Lionel had turned over most of his quarter pay to his brothers and sisters to make a better life for them, none of them could be saved.
They spent the funds on foolishness and died of starvation and disease before Lionel could bring them to a better place.
Such was the reason Alexander kept Lionel close, for they shared the experience of losing all they loved in this world.
“I suppose we do not know what the paper held,” Alexander surmised.
“Know who dropped it,” Lionel said evenly.
Alexander sighed heavily. “You are quite maddening, you realize that, do you not?”
Lionel grinned widely. “Could be I have.”
“Out with it, man!” Alexander insisted. “Who, pray tell?”
“I waits in the park after the gel left. Wouldn’t be the thing to turn and follow her right away. So I waited on a bench nearby, pretending to enjoy the day by readin’ the penny press I carried with me. Soon a woman walks out from behind a stand of trees. A woman me and Xander know.”
“Someone we know?” Alexander asked. “A servant or a shop girl from somewhere nearby? Or someone from the streets. Not society?”
“Not society,” Lionel asserted.
Alexander inquired, “Someone from our past?”
“Seen her before. Some time back. With a man who appeared to be passing off a fake bank note. I think it be Erwin Albans, but I couldn’t be confident. They spotted me and turned away.”
“Who was the woman?” Alexander asked.
“Margaret Childers.”
“You think this has to do with the convertible value of Bank of England notes?” Duncan asked. “Such was not what we expected.”
“Why not?” Alexander asked. “We originally thought Honfleur meant to swindle members of society with his tales of a rich French marquessate in which they could invest. Flooding London’s streets with fake bank notes could spell a true disaster for the British economy.”
Duncan remarked, “William Pitt never handled the situation well, though his scheme likely saved the Bank of England back in the 1790s. Pitt kept public confidence in the circulation of paper money currency by claiming the Bank of England was actually still very affluent, but the suspension of specie payments had been a temporary measure at the government’s request. None of you will recall when Parliament authorized the Bank of England to issue all notes in denominations of less than five pounds to ease the shortage of specie , for the public had been hoarding coins for years.
If Honfleur is hoping to flood the markets with fake bank notes, it could mean a disaster in the making. ”
“The Bank Restriction Act has been renewed again,” Thompson reminded them.
“But we are on the brink of war with America,” Graham countered. “Britain cannot afford to be caught with its trousers down when this happens.”
Thompson complained, “How many wars must we fight?”