Page 6 of The Lyon’s Last Gamble (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #80)

“M ama, I cannot believe we are in such a place.” Whitney looked around the room they’d been ushered into after meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Below them, men played various games. Originally, she thought they were partaking in games of cards or darts. But no, on closer inspection these games were of the sort that she had never seen in her life.

“Shhh,” her mother hushed her. “Soon, you will see your prospects.”

Whitney hated how it sounded like a business deal. She supposed in a sense it was. She’d learned her parents had paid an astronomical amount of coin to the woman who owned the Lyon’s Den. The payment guaranteed her a husband that would overlook her past indiscretions. No questions asked.

From what Whitney had been told, usually it was the men who paid dearly for the chance for a wife.

But for the Watkins, the tables were turned. It was she that needed a husband. She was still unsure about how she felt about that.

Did she want to give away her heart so freely as she had done before? It hadn’t led her to happiness. Why would this situation be any different? Especially with this feeling like she was using some sort of trickery to gain a husband. She didn’t want a man resentful toward her for the rest of her life because he thought she entrapped him in some sort of way. Even though her potential husband would have likely had to sign the same type of binding contract she had upon arrival.

But mama kept assuring her that this union was unbreakable. The contract that had been written up was permanent. Until death do they part and all that.

Time would be the only way to tell if that were truly the case, but eventually she would find out she supposed.

She looked down at all the men milling about. From her understanding they couldn’t see her watching them from this observation room. If these men were here looking for a wife, the world was indeed in trouble. She actually recognized a few of the men below.

And secretly hoped that there wasn’t anyone that she knew who was in the running for her husband.

To tell the truth, the thought of having a husband by her side was tempting. One thing that Harold had showed her was that she enjoyed the companionship of a man beside her. She missed that. Missed the passion that came naturally with attraction.

“I believe it is almost time for your suitors to play.” Her mother patted her hand excitedly.

“Mama, I think you might be looking forward to this a bit too much. It’s as if we are on the search for your husband.”

Her mother swatted her on the shoulder. “Stop. You know that I just want to see you happy. And I believe you will be once you see the two prospects.”

She sighed. “You could only find two willing participants, I see.”

“Hush. That is not the case at all. Believe it or not there were many more, but these two I hand-picked myself out of all the options. I think you will be pleased.” She smiled triumphantly.

“We shall see about that. I just don’t understand that if there were so many men willing to step up and marry me, why they just wouldn’t have shown up at our door.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that. But that’s a story for another day. Look.” Her mother pointed to a corner of the room where a stack of boxes with holes on one side were being set up in stacks of three. “That’s the game Mrs. Dove-Lyon and I concocted.”

Whitney narrowed her eyes. “They won’t be playing cards?”

Her mother laughed. “The games played here are of the odd sort. Cards are such a bore to watch. This will be much more exciting.”

Leaning over the railing, she looked at the men milling about the room, some pausing to watch the game being set up. Her mother had said that two of these men were her potential husband in the group?

“They’re not here yet,” her mother stated, as if reading Whitney’s mind.

She bit her lip, her knuckles white from gripping the railing much too tight. Her body suddenly a bundle of nervous energy realizing that in the next few moments she was going to lay eyes on her future husband.

The men looking on were shooed away.

Well, that answered that question. She wouldn’t be spending the rest of her life with one of those men.

And that was when she saw him.

The man from the modiste. Well, not the modiste exactly. But the man who had caught her attention just outside the window while she and mother visited the shop.

He was just as handsome as before, even if he looked a bit nervous as his beautiful brown eyes jumped around the room.

Her breath hitched as she watched him confidently stroll from table to table, finally stopping at the boxes that had been set up.

Oh my. He was one of the men that would be vying for her hand.

She turned to her mother and found that she was watching her closely.

“I will be right back,” she announced, leaving the room in a flash.

How odd. But she turned back to the gambling floor, her eyes searching for the raven-haired man. As soon as she found him, her gaze settled. She wanted to watch him and only him.

Another man joined him and they stiffly shook hands. It appeared they were acquainted, but did not think highly of each other. Could the other man be one of the potential suitors her mother had chosen?

Dear lord, she hoped not. He seemed miserable from afar, she could only imagine what he would be like face to face. And the prospect of having to spend the rest of her life with him, made her stomach do a turn. And not in the same, happy way it flipped when she saw the first man.

She began to wring her hands. What if the second man won the game?

The possibilities were high that he could. He had at least a fifty percent chance.

No, no, no. Whitney spun around to see if her mother had returned, but she was nowhere to be found. After seeing the two men, couldn’t she just choose her husband?

Why the game of chance?

Worry had her biting at her nails. If her mother were here, she would scold her for the childish habit. With one look back at the floor, she hurried from the room in search of her mother.