Page 31 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

T he next afternoon Amelia stepped out of the hired hack and lifted the hood of her cloak over her head. This was the ladies’ entrance, supposedly. It was on the side of the building, cleanly kept, and private, but still not a place Amelia wanted to linger. She knocked on the door, and it opened. A woman stared at her expectantly.

“May I enter?”

“Name?”

“Is that required?”

The woman looked her up and down. She seemed to be deciphering who she might be and how wealthy.

“Come in, my lady.” She stepped back respectfully. “I suspect this is your first time at the Lyon’s Den. Would you like someone to assist you?”

“No, I want to look around myself.”

Amelia was taken up a flight of stairs. This appeared to be like a regular town home, and yet... not. The woman held a door open and waved her into an entry room. After taking her cloak, the woman returned to Amelia and smiled.

“My name is Helena. How may I be of service, my lady?”

Amelia wasn’t quite sure. “Where do I go from here?”

“Would you like to play a game? Place a bet? We have the ladies’ parlor to your left and the ladies’ dining room and gallery just this way. Whatever you wish, the Lyon’s Den can usually provide. Anything, anything you wish.”

She said it in a way that made Amelia pause. Anything could be anything . It was no wonder her brother didn’t want her here. But she wasn’t here for just anything. She was on an investigative mission, and if she stumbled upon a certain veiled widow, well, that was only a happy coincidence.

“Why don’t I sit you at a table in the gallery? It overlooks the main playing so you can get an idea for what might interest you,” Helena suggested.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Helena led her through the dining room to an open gallery where women were milling. She brought her to a small table—one of several—at the edge of the gallery near the railing, and soon a maid brought her a pot of tea and a plate of lemon cake. Amelia surveyed her surroundings noting the elegant, papered walls and intricate plasterwork of the ceiling. Everywhere she looked, it was luxurious. Amelia surveyed the other women at the gallery tables enjoying refreshment and watching the festivities below, noting some she knew and others she did not. She removed her hood. She wasn’t going to hide her presence. She was a woman of two and twenty and engaged, as all society knew. She had every right to be here and no need to fear judgment.

It didn’t escape her notice that while sitting here she was doing some of the very things she swore she wouldn’t do any longer—like indulging her mad impulses. However, here she was. But this wasn’t too scandalous, was it? She was sipping tea. Nothing scandalous happened while sipping tea.

But then she felt a presence behind her, like a ghost stood over her shoulder.

“Mr. Chase.”

He took the open seat across from her at a table that was far too small and intimate to share with a man who wasn’t her betrothed.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here? Alone,” he said with a smile.

“How do you know I’m alone?”

“If you were with your fiancé, you’d be elsewhere, wouldn’t you?” he taunted.

“Where is elsewhere?”

He smirked. “Where indeed?”

“You told me I should visit, and so I am.”

He looked down over the railing. “You ought to play a game. According to rumors, you play Commerce exceptionally well. Sir Daniel is quite enamored of you.”

Amelia ignored that.

“Any word from your brother?” he continued.

Amelia smiled, thinking of her brother sitting in boredom. Sam was already complaining about his restrictive rest. He was never a man to sit still.

“No. I’m certain he is busy sorting out matters at the estate. I don’t expect to hear from him often.”

He stroked his chin. “Is that so?”

“Why do you act as if you don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “And why is that?”

“I’ve observed your brother. I’ve seen him do reckless things, but never would I take him for a man who would leave his cherished sister alone. He’s protective of you above all things. Any capable estate manager could handle the sheep problem.”

Amelia scoffed. “I’m not alone. I have a household full of servants and a fiancé. And maybe you don’t know my brother as well as you think you do.”

“My instincts are never wrong.”

“Not that you know of, anyhow. But as I asked before, why does it matter what my brother is doing?”

“It matters to the Widow. That is all that matters to me.”

Amelia brightened as he provided the avenue to move conversation away from her brother. “May I meet her?”

“Certainly. She’d love to meet you.” He stood and offered his arm.

Amelia declined to take it. Whatever she might say, she did care for her reputation a bit, after all, especially when she did not yet know what the Den truly had to offer.

He smiled and lowered his arm, leading the way back toward the entry room Amelia had found herself in initially. They crossed it and entered the ladies’ parlor Helena had mentioned, and they came upon a figure shrouded in black, a lace veil covering half her face. She turned, apparently sensing them.

“Madam, may I present Lady Amelia Clark?” He stepped back but did not leave them.

“Mr. Chase has had much to say about you and your brother.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat on the settee and beckoned Amelia to do the same.

“I hope they’ve been entertaining things,” Amelia replied.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon laughed softly. “Some. I’ve heard you play cards as well as your brother, if not better.”

“I do.”

“Won’t you partake of my establishment?”

This felt like a challenge. A test of her mettle. Would the pampered sister of an earl run away from the seedy gaming hall?

“I’d like to observe first, see what interests me.”

“My Den has much to offer.”

“My brother comes here often, I’ve learned.”

“Frequently enough to be missed lately.”

“I understand you want to marry him off. Would I approve of this mystery bride?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned toward her, and Amelia could feel her scrutiny.

“I think you would.”

“And would you truly know? We’ve only just met.”

“I’m good at reading people. I can see them for what they are and not what they portray.”

Amelia dwelled on that statement. “I think I will play,” she said after a moment.

“Excellent. Helena will show you to the ladies’ tables.”

“Can I not play on the main floor?”

“The main gaming floor is for men only. We have a ladies’ gaming room for you to enjoy. I was not pleased to learn Mr. Blakewood is off my market. But after meeting you, I can see you’re a good match.”

Amelia didn’t know what to say to that. They were a terrible match, physical attraction notwithstanding. Utter opposites, destined to drive each other mad forever. Right now, all they had was a truce. Sam’s well-being overshadowed their conflict.

“Thank you,” was all Amelia replied.

Helena appeared. “Right this way, my lady.” She led Amelia back across the rooms she’d already seen, through the gallery, to the ladies’ gaming room on the opposite side. The afternoon was waning, but she could stay for a little while—for research, of course.

Amelia tried a few games and found herself having a grand time, but her mind continued to drift back to the main gaming floor where the gentlemen played. She wanted a challenge few women could provide.

Amelia made her way down the servants’ stairs connecting the ladies’ gaming room to the main gaming floor. She hesitated on the last step and took in the scene. There were enough patrons for the place to be active, but it wasn’t crowded, not like it would be later in the evening, she was sure. How much more exciting would it be then? Would she have the opportunity to come back at night? She could just imagine the revelry, the stakes, the crazed fever of winning. No wonder her brother spent so much time here.

“Lady Amelia, just my luck.”

Amelia tensed, but she painted on a smug smile as she turned to face Sir Daniel. “Sir Daniel, a pleasure to see you again.”

He moved closer to her, closer than was appropriate, and touched her arm. “I must say, I’ve been dreaming of this moment.”

She raised a brow. “Of standing here and talking to me in a gaming hall? How banal.”

His smile broadened. “Not exactly.” He took in her subdued attire. “The den offers many incredible... opportunities to test one’s mettle, to broaden their horizons.”

“It’s a gaming hall,” Amelia said dryly, ignoring his suggestive tone.

“It is not only a gaming hall. There are many things to—”

“Yes, you’re flirting and implying that there are illicit activities. What is your point?”

His gaze sharpened. “You never fail to intrigue me. It’s a wonder that you’ve tied yourself to such a boring ape as Blakewood.”

The mention of Graham gave her gooseflesh.

“Why is that? He’s an honorable and respected gentleman.”

Sir Daniel stepped even closer, and to Amelia’s chagrin she lost her route of escape as he put his hand on the railing, blocking her path back up the stairs.

“You’re a woman of action. You’re smart, stunning, and I’m willing to guess so much more that I’ve yet to discover. Marriage to him will fade your vibrant colors. He can’t make you happy. He won’t appreciate your skill like I do. Let me know when you grow tired of him.”

He tried to step closer still, leaning as if he intended to kiss her cheek but Amelia put a hand to his chest.

“Don’t think for one more second that you could play on my level.”

He chuckled and stepped back. “I’m a patient player, my lady. I can play the long game. I can play all night.” He bowed and slinked away.

Amelia wanted to gag but instead she quit the main level. Sir Daniel couldn’t approach her where he wasn’t allowed. She would play a few more games with the other ladies before she went home so her last taste of the Den wouldn’t be tainted by Sir Daniel.

But when she next noticed the time, Amelia gasped. She’d been here too long and not a single person knew where she was. Sam had been resting and Graham busy tending to his correspondence when she’d slipped out of the house.

Time had flown far faster than possible, and she hadn’t noticed. She would be in so much trouble if Graham or Sam knew. She gathered her winnings from an unknown servant and hurried down the corridor toward the ladies’ entrance to collect her cloak. Helena promised a hack would be waiting for her outside.

“Lady Amelia.”

She froze as she took her cloak from the waiting servant, that dark voice halting her in her steps. She didn’t know what to expect when she turned. She would not pretend she did not hear him. The time for reckoning would come one way or another. She schooled her face into something no one around her would read as surprise, and she smiled as she pivoted.

“Graham, I was just returning home now.”