Page 2 of The Lyon’s Dilemma (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #86)

M rs. Dove Lyon’s instructions had been less helpful than Adaline had realized. Find the dragon scroll and dragon tooth pendant. Remove it without being detected. Return it to me, Mrs. Dove Lyon, the rightful owner.

The objects that would probably be displayed close to or with the tapestry were Adaline’s guarantee of the truth of Mrs. Dove Lyon’s tale.

Adaline did not mind breaking the law when the cause was just, and this errand was the price for Mrs. Dove Lyon’s matchmaking services.

Even so, she did not intend to deprive someone of something that was rightfully theirs, no matter how great the reward.

The story seemed valid, at least on the surface.

“My husband, Colonel Dove Lyon, was something of a collector, in that wherever he was posted with the army, he purchased things that appealed to him. When we married, his wedding gift to me was a painting he had purchased in Canton—a dragon painted in the Chinese style on a silk scroll. It used to hang on the wall of our drawing room, where I could see it from my writing desk. And for our first anniversary, he gave me what was claimed to be a dragon’s tooth, in a silver setting.

It had a loop that allowed it to be worn as a pendant. ”

Mrs. Dove Lyon had sighed and looked into the distance for a moment.

Adaline had felt a stab of envy for what were clearly happy memories.

That was what she wanted! Richard Beverley’s death had been a release from a marriage that had been indifferent from the first. Next time, she had promised herself, would be better.

“When the Colonel died,” Mrs. Dove Lyon had continued, “he left debts, some of them to friends, one of whom was a collector himself. At first, he thought he could take the value of the debts in…” she’d paused momentarily, and Adaline had the idea the widow was swallowing her distaste, “personal services from me. When I refused, he threatened me. Finally, he agreed to take some of the objets d’art in payment of what was owed.

I was occupied with packing up and moving rooms—I’d already had the plan to convert this house to the Lyon’s Den.

It was some time before I realized that the dragon scroll was missing, and so was the tooth. ”

“You asked for it back?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Dove Lyon had said stiffly. “I pretended to assume a mistake, though I had made it clear that the dragon scroll and the tooth pendant were my personal property, and not to be included. When he denied possession, I accepted his word, for what else could I do?”

“Then what has changed?” Adaline had wanted to know.

“Someone who knew me all those years ago recently commented on the dragon scroll. She was surprised I had let it go. When I questioned her, she confirmed that my husband’s old friend had shown it to her husband, another collector, in her presence.

When she said she had seen it before, he insisted he had purchased it himself, somewhere in the East. But she was certain it was the same scroll. ”

The scroll would be on display somewhere, both women had assumed, and Mrs. Dove Lyon had somehow procured an invitation for Adaline to a house party at the country home of the suspected thief, Viscount Stillwater.

His heir’s wife had two daughters on the marriage market, and she and her husband, Lord Stillwater’s son and heir, were holding the event to provide opportunities for them to get to know their suitors.

It had seemed simple. Attend the house party. Ask for a tour of the house. Note the location of the scroll and confirm the presence of the corroborating items, and come up with a plan for their disappearance, preferably in a way that did not reflect on Adaline.

“I wouldn’t ask,” Mrs. Dove Lyon had said apologetically.

“Except that I understand you did something similar for Mrs. Fleming when her ruby parure was stolen by her father-in-law, and she did not want to involve the police. Of course, if there are any difficulties, I shall take responsibility. I am certain Viscount Stillwater will want matters kept quiet. You need not fear legal repercussions.”

Social repercussions worried Adaline more. The goal, after all, was to find a husband. A new scandal—one, furthermore, that labeled her a criminal—would destroy her chances. Particularly when added to the scandals of her youth.

Now she was certain she could think of a sensible way to lift the scroll as soon as she found it. Unfortunately, her plan failed from the first step. The scroll was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the tooth.

She did find some of the other items on Mrs. Dove Lyon’s inventory list, scattered around the house or in a room set apart for Lord Stillwater’s collection, but they had all been taken legitimately, in settlement of the colonel’s debt.

Meanwhile, two days of the house party had passed, bringing her no nearer to completing her commission to Mrs. Dove Lyon. As for meeting a suitable husband, she was older than all the unmarried men at the house party.

If not in actual years, then certainly in maturity and experience. They were all boys in her eyes, and she had no doubt they saw her as more as a matron than a young miss, even those a decade or even two her senior.

Then, on the second evening, their hostess, Mrs. Stillwater, announced that dinner would be delayed by thirty minutes to allow time for a late-arriving guest to change from his traveling clothes.

“I was not sure he would come,” she exclaimed to her husband, ignoring Adaline who was standing nearby.

“He accepted the invitation,” said her husband, the Honorable John Stillwater.

(Lord Stillwater, his father—whom Adaline had taken to calling the Dis-Honorable, at least in her private musings—had not yet put in an appearance.).

“One thing you can say for the duke,” Stillwater said.

“He might not be the most sociable of people, but he keeps his word. He is late? His wheel broke. Could have happened to anyone.”

A duke? There were only a few dukes who were unmarried, but surely it couldn’t be him? Fate would not be so cruel.

“He is here now,” said Mrs. Stillwater. “What a coup, Stillwater. Kempbury at our house party. Imagine if he takes a liking to one of our girls!”

The Duke of Kempbury. Apparently, Fate was crueler than Adaline had imagined. She was possessed by the sudden urge to flee. She ignored it. Why should she run? She had done nothing wrong. Whatever Kempbury thought.

Felix arrived at Viscount Stillwater’s country manor in time to change for dinner, or so said his hostess. In fact, from the looks on the faces of the guests waiting in the parlor, dinner had been held back to allow him time to wash and change.

He looked around the room. Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater were attempting to find husbands for their two daughters, he had expected to see the flock of maidens who looked as if they had only recently learned to walk creditably with their skirts down. He would not find his duchess among them.

Yet, despite his dislike of social events, he could not avoid them all, and Mrs. Stillwater was a notable hostess. He recognized many of the guests, and knew which were married and which were widows with roving eyes. No duchesses there, either.

“You will be able to recognize your prospective wife,” Mrs. Dove Lyon had insisted.

“Mrs. Beverley will be one of the maturer young ladies—she will be thirty years of age at her next birthday. She was widowed seven years ago and has been living a quiet life with her daughter. Her husband left few funds, and she has been supporting herself. I shall let her tell you the details.”

There were three possibilities. Perhaps four, but the fourth lady was turned away from him, so he was only judging by her back. As Mrs. Stillwater gave the signal to go into dinner, she turned around, and Kempbury knew her immediately.

No! It can’t be .

It was, though, and if he had had any doubts at all, they would have been put to rest when she saw him, paled, then flushed bright red, and turned determinedly away.

Somehow, he managed to offer his arm to his hostess, lead her into dinner, and even carry on something of a conversation with her. All the while his mind was reeling and his heart was a pit of despair. Adaline Fairbanks.

Surely, Mrs. Dove Lyon did not think to match him with that lying jade. She had said “Mrs. Beverley,” but that was not reassuring. In a decade, Adaline might well have married, had a child, and been widowed.

He needed to find out, so he did something he usually found too difficult to contemplate. He engaged his hostess in conversation, asking about each of the guests with whom he was not personally acquainted.

He retained enough self-possession to ask about both men and women, but he doubted that small amount of camouflage fooled Mrs. Stillwater for a moment. She was much more informative about the ladies than the gentlemen.

One by one, her mini-biographies eliminated each of the ladies he’d marked as possibles.

One was married. One betrothed. One was a devoted social butterfly committed to life in London, which would not suit Felix.

Besides, she had turned down every proposal she had received in her eight years on the Marriage Market.

“She has a private fortune,” said Mrs. Stillwater.

“She declares she has no intention of marrying.” She shook her head at the thought.

“Then we come to Mrs. Beverley, who is a widow, Kempbury. She is attending with her daughter, who must be ten years old, or close to it. Our governess says she is a delightful child. That’s Mrs. Beverley sitting between Baron Thornwick and Mr. Thompson.

I understand she has been a widow for seven years, and that she runs a business, which is very enterprising of her.

I do not know much more about her. I sent her an invitation at the request of a friend, but have found her to be a very pleasant guest.”