Page 1 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

The Lyon’s Den

Cleveland Street

Whitehall

Thankfully, he had been to the Lyon’s Den numerous times over the years, so he didn’t need his sight to navigate through the rooms. Of course, his cane helped, and he used it to tap errant toes or ankles if someone had the bad sense as to step into his path.

And truly, a guest only needed to follow the different sounds within the building to determine their destination.

All the while, Pennington kept up a steady stream of inane conversation, as if Allan had been thirsting to engage in verbal diarrhea.

He enjoyed being alone, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk someone’s ear off when he did require company.

And neither did he want said treatment from anyone else.

As the acrid scent of cigar and pipe smoke assaulted his nose, Allan frowned, for they passed through the gentlemen’s smoking room.

A couple of men called out greetings to both him and Pennington, and though they lifted hands, neither of them stopped to chat.

Then they reached the main gambling floor, and the whole tone of the atmosphere changed.

The sounds of cards being shuffled mixed with the slight thud of dice hitting felt-covered tables.

Clinking of crystal on crystal indicated drinks were flowing and being indiscriminately poured out, for an inebriated man was a careless man at the tables.

Masculine groans and cheers randomly punctuated the air, while the low purr of women’s voices whispered through the background from the direction of the ladies’ observation gallery.

In short, the building hosted a den of sin and vice, and in between the cracks, he could swear the owner dabbled in matchmaking when she had the time.

For a price, of course.

“I can honestly say I do not enjoy my time at the Lyon’s Den.” Being stricken with blindness notwithstanding. “Wagering on anything and losing one’s coin is folly.” Besides, if a man didn’t already know that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had a house advantage, they were nodcocks and deserved to lose a fortune.

“For the love of God, Masterson, when did you become such a wet blanket? You’re nearly forty for God’s sake. Act like it.” The earl stopped near the middle of the gambling floor and then rested a hand on Allan’s shoulder. “We used to have more fun than this in the past.”

“Perhaps.” He’d known Pennington for years, and definitely after he’d lost his sight.

Within the tight knot of his friends, he felt more comfortable while out in society, but he would rather be ensconced at home with his books, his piano, and his cat.

“But then, one by one, you fellows succumbed to parson’s mousetrap, and visiting with you has been few and far between over the past year or so. ”

The earl chuckled. “Sometimes fate has other plans for us, which is good when we don’t know what it is we want or need.”

“Such is life, in every aspect, I’d say.

” Allan tilted his head, for a crowd was swelling on the floor, and with it, even more noise, for talking, laughing, and cursing increased.

“Why are you even here? I thought you found your wife more interesting than spending an evening here.” Usually, Pennington rushed home to his wife after anything tore him away, and frankly, their desirous interest in each other flirted with the line of scandal, according to the teasing that was banded about within their circle.

Not that he could see that evidence with his own eyes.

The earl cleared his throat. “Oh, I do, but Adriana is currently visiting with some friends. One of them is having a ladies-only dinner where they can gab and gossip, so I thought to come here for a few hours before retrieving her. No doubt she will have drunk too much wine, indulged in too many sweets, and bragged about how virile her husband is, so we will probably fall into bed shortly after arriving home.”

“Good God, man, have some decorum.” But Allan grinned to temper the words. A stab of envy went through his chest. “Truthfully, I’m glad to see you’re still wildly in love.”

“I am.”

“I’ll wager you’re flushing right about now.” He adjusted his right hand on the silver ball of the head of his cane.

“Yes.” Pennington snickered. “I can’t help it.”

“Of course not. From all I’ve heard, the countess is a lovely woman, and the affection you share is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it gives me hope for our unbalanced world.” He shrugged. “In fact, I might enjoy having that as well. In time.”

One would think he’d be shocked to admit that, but he wasn’t. There had been long nights alone to ponder over his future, of what he wanted from it and for it. He had responsibilities to his title, and he wasn’t growing any younger, yet…

As if Pennington read his mind, he said, “Yet a man can’t find someone to marry if he doesn’t put himself out into society.”

He turned his head. The illumination from the multitude of candles in wall sconces and chandeliers on the ceiling hurt his eyes, which had been sensitive since he’d lost his sight.

Lifting his free hand, he pushed the silver frames of his spectacles back up onto the bridge of his nose.

The tinted lenses helped protect his eyes and eased the pressure and discomfort therein.

“Except a blind man is nearly useless at a ball, wouldn’t you agree?

” Since he’d been blind for the better part of twenty years, he’d long ago squared with the fact that he would never see again.

There was no self-pity there or the anger he’d had when it had happened, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be practical about his infirmity.

“I doubt that.” Again, Pennington dropped a hand on Allan’s shoulder and gave it a jostle. “I have known you a long time, Peregrine—”

“Allan,” he corrected, for the earl was the only one of his friend set who insisted on calling him by his given name occasionally.

“—and you are quite extraordinary, infirmity aside,” he continued with humor in his voice. “Hell, earlier this year, you helped Huxley win his lady, and you did it with a calm and cool demeanor that I found quite stunning, especially after how he’d had to stage that duel.”

“Ah, well…” Allan chuckled, for he remembered that night fondly. “I’ll admit, that bit of acting was challenging and fun.”

“All the more reason for you to mingle in society. You are an interesting and intriguing person, even if you don’t believe it. If you put yourself out there more, perhaps the eligible ladies of the ton will see that as well.”

“Ha.” Though he laughed, even to his ears, there wasn’t much mirth in the sound.

“I am intelligent and know much about many subjects. However, believe it or not, I’m not that skilled in flirtation or even squiring women about Town.

Since I went blind, most of my time has been learning how to navigate, and pursuing things I previously never had the time for.

” He shrugged. “I’m not fully confident where women are involved, despite how I might seem.

” Though he’d been told he was attractive and handsome, and even his valet said women would snap him up, looks didn’t matter to him since they were quite lost on him, for obvious reasons.

“I’d like to think I’m building myself into a more interesting and worthwhile individual. ”

“Sure, and you are also hiding.” A few seconds of silence brewed between them like Allan listened to the activity—both ecstasy and agony—going on around them. Then the earl gasped. He lowered his voice. “Never say you’ve never lain with a woman?”

“Don’t be an arse, Pennington.” He smirked. “Of course I have, but my conquests, if that is what you wish to call them, have been few and far between since I went blind.”

“Because you are a stubborn nodcock.” They shared a laugh. “What do you do when you have… needs?”

Allan’s grin widened. “What have men been doing about that since the world began? Take matters into my own hands, of course.”

“Damn.”

He snickered. “You brought the subject up.” A sense of humor—rather a dry one at that—had developed after he’d gone blind, and frankly, he rather enjoyed that side of life. “The subject of how to get a certain tool up, I might add.”

“Do shut up, Masterson.” But there was a grin in the other man’s voice.

“Will you try your hand at gambling tonight, or are we here to make the rounds?”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon has already gotten enough of my coin. No more of it will grace her tables. I just thought you might like the ambience.”

Allan snorted. “Ah, so the rumors she’s gifted in matchmaking had no bearing in that decision?” The owner of this establishment was also crafty and cunning. Did the men who tossed away their coin at the tables—and worse—learn nothing from the stories and warnings?

“Perhaps it did. You are a complex case.”

“Ha.” But as he slowly shook his head, he frowned. “I won’t lie and say it’s not tempting.” What the devil would he do with a wife? He would need to train the woman to integrate into his life, and that seemed an insurmountable task.

To say nothing of the fact he was tired—physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually.

Life in London had brought him low, had given him a bit of ennui.

He would also turn forty years of age in a week, and quite frankly, he wanted something to show for it, plus the responsibility to do right by his title continued to press down on him each day.

Since he hadn’t been able to serve in the military due to the blindness, instead, he’d learned how to play the piano by ear, since he obviously couldn’t read the sheet music.

After a few years, he was quite good at it and it brought him peace.

He adored having poetry read to him; in fact, he had a weakness for all of that plus everything Shakespeare wrote.

So much so that he’d named his orange Persian cat Romeo.