Page 20 of The Lyon’s Last Gamble (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #80)
W hitney paced the floor for Christopher to return. It had been hours since she’d woken up only to find herself alone.
After dressing in a day dress she’d packed in the travel bag she’d brought from home, she made her way downstairs, only to be told that he had left to run an errand but would be back shortly.
That was five hours ago. Night was descending and there was no word from her husband.
Had she been too forward? Scared him away? Maybe he had run to Mrs. Dove-Lyon to see how he could get out of the marriage.
Betrayal burned within her. Had she once again fallen for the words she wanted to hear? Words that held no meaning and were only used to get to an end?
“You are a fool Whitney Watkins,” she spat out in the empty room, not using Campbell, even though that was her surname now.
She thought Christopher was different. He seemed so sincere. She understood she hadn’t known him long. Obviously not long enough to judge his true character, but she really thought he was different from Harold. Perhaps all men were that way.
No. She refused to believe it. She’d seen the way her father treated her mother. Everything he did was to make mama happy. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt her.
Should she return home? She brought her fingertips to her mouth, nibbling on her nails, trying to figure out the steps she should take.
Where could he have gone? The only place she could think of was the Lyon’s Den. Had he really gone there to terminate his contract?
She would never know unless she went there herself to find out. Grabbing a cloak, she wrapped it around her shoulders and made her way out into the hall.
A servant appeared, and she felt bad because she couldn’t remember the man’s name, but she asked for a carriage to be brought around.
“Are you sure, my lady? Surely, Lord Campbell will return soon.”
She jutted out her chin. “It has been long enough. I will locate him myself.”
In less than an hour, she was begging for entry into the gambling den, but the bouncers at the door would not let her pass. Not without an invitation they kept saying.
“I was here last week. Please. I just need to speak with Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” she begged. “It’s about my husband.” The words were bitter on her tongue as she said them. But one of the men left and she hoped it was to find the old woman.
“Wait here,” the other man ordered, and pointed to a bench outside the door.
With a huff, she crossed her arms and sat down.
“Miss Watkins, or should I say, Lady Campbell now,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon called to her about fifteen minutes later.
Whitney had been waiting for so long, she didn’t think the woman would come out.
“What is the matter?” The woman asked, noting the concern etched on Whitney’s face.
“Have you seen my husband? Christopher Campbell?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon chuckled. “I know his name, dear. But, alas, I have not seen him. Should I have?”
If he wasn’t here, where could he be?
“I, um, he left home earlier this afternoon stating that he had to run an errand and would be back shortly. He hasn’t been back and it has been hours. I worried that he visited you to null our contracts.”
The woman belted out a laugh. “Absolutely not. There is no nulling of any of my contracts. I’m sorry, dear, he hasn’t been here.”
Whitney pressed her lips together. Where could he be?
“If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my patrons.”
“Of course.” Whitney stood. “I am sorry to have bothered you.”
Outside, she looked up and down the street. Her coachman approached. “Are you ready to return to Colthrop, my lady?”
“If Lord Campbell were to come to this area, where would he usually go?”
The man shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
She reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Please. I will ensure that ye see no ill repercussions for providing the information. I need to find him,” she begged.
With a curt nod, he straightened. “The gambling hells is where he would pass his time. A few were his favorites, but they are not near here.” He looked pained. “They are in an unsavory part of the city, my lady.”
“Take me,” she ordered and not waiting for him to argue, she climbed into the carriage and impatiently waited for them to start moving. When the carriage rocked forward, she let out a sigh.
Was he gambling? He’d said he had stopped. It was their wedding day. She thought back to when they’d left after the ceremony. She had noticed her father hand something to Christopher. Was it money?
Had he taken their marriage money and gone to gamble with it?
Anger ran through her veins like fire. How could he? When she found him, in whatever seedy establishment he happened to be in, she would give him an earful.
Betrayal enveloped her as they bounced along the road. Once again, she felt the fool.
The carriage rocked to a halt and shortly after the door swung open. “My lady, we are here.” He looked around. “But are you sure you want to get out of the carriage? It could be dangerous.”
She poked her head out and surveyed her surroundings. This part of the city was darker than the parts she was used to. Men and women of ill repute walked the streets. Some nuzzling and acting completely improper for public show.
Vile words were spoken. A couple were rutting against a brick wall like animals. Her eyes rounded at the sight and her coachman moved in her line of sight to block the view.
“My lady, this truly is not a place for you.”
She was beginning to think he was right, but she had no choice. She needed to find her husband. “If Lord Campbell is here, then I must find him.”
He nodded. “If you insist, but please, let me ask around. You should stay within the safety of the carriage.”
She would be safer here, where another servant had accompanied them.
“Please hurry,” she begged. As upset as she was for being taken for a fool, there was a small pestering feeling that told her something was wrong. And that it wasn’t because Christopher had betrayed her.