Page 11 of The Lyon’s Love Letters (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #78)

E lliott had only just returned to his rooms the next afternoon when it came.

He’d been preoccupied. This morning, he’d gone to the address Elizabeth Hayes had given them. She had been overjoyed to hear that her sister would be given a real chance to tell her story and have something done about it. She’d promptly untied her apron, told the housekeeper she had an urgent family matter to attend to, and taken Elliott to where her sister had found lodgings.

The girl had been reluctant at first, but when Elliott told her she wasn’t alone, that he was collecting stories from other women, including one in the viscount’s own family, she had agreed to join the effort.

Her tale had been nearly as harrowing as Miss Matilda Kenniston’s. She had sobbed in her sister’s arms when she finished telling it.

Elizabeth had reminded him of the girl who had disappeared from Kenniston’s household after her sister left his service. Elliott had taken her name and promised to follow up with the local constable, but he’d wanted to make notes about the Hayes girl’s story before too much time had passed. That was when the knock at the door had come. When he answered, a boy had handed over a printed invitation.

You are invited to an Exclusive Card Game this evening at the Lyon’s Den. A select group will be accepted into a game in the Private Gaming Parlor.

“Will you attend, sir?” the boy asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Elliott assured him.

That evening, he dressed in his finest. He was as neat and gentlemanly as Harricks could make him. He had no idea what might happen tonight. He’d had no further communication from Anna or anyone else since the arrival of that invitation.

He produced it in the entry hall of the Lyon’s Den when approached by one of the porters.

“This way, sir.”

Behind him, the door opened again and Viscount Kenniston strolled in.

He had an identical invitation.

Elliott pointedly ignored the man and followed the servant to the private parlor. Kenniston was on his heels as he walked in.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome.” The Black Widow of Whitehall sat at the single table. She wore her veil and an elegant gown and had a gentleman on either side of her.

Anna sat on the other side of the man at Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s right. Elliott tried to catch her eye. She had not looked up at their entrance. Her face pale, she stared fixedly at the chair across the table from her.

“We are very glad you have accepted our invitation,” the widow purred. “Allow me to make the introductions. This is Lord Lovell.” She indicated the older gentleman on her left. “And this is Mr. Lundy.” The man sitting beside Anna nodded. He looked utterly unprepossessing. “And I believe you both know Lady Anna Parbury.”

Anna turned her head at last and gave them both a cool nod.

The veiled widow continued. “Lord Kenniston. Mr. Ward. You have both been invited to a very special evening of play. Before you join us at the table, I am afraid you must agree to the house rules.”

“What exactly are the house rules?” Kenniston asked.

“Whatever I say they are,” the widow answered, her tone full of amusement.

Elliott had no idea what was going on. But he trusted Anna, and she trusted Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “I, for one, am happy to accept your invitation, ma’am.” He thought to claim the seat beside Anna, but she moved her gaze from his face to the seat across from her again.

He took the hint and took that seat.

The door opened and a slim young man entered. He carried a deck of cards and placed it in the middle of the table before taking the seat next to Anna.

“Lord Kenniston, will you join us?” the widow asked.

“What is the game?”

“Sit down, agree to follow my rules, and you will find out.”

Kenniston hesitated.

The widow tilted her head. Elliott would have paid good money to be able to see her expression. The viscount gave Anna a long look, took in the tight set of her face, and nodded. He took the seat next to the young man.

“Robin is one of our house dealers,” the widow said, indicating the young man. “We will not need him to deal for this game, but he will stay to watch and monitor that the play is fair.” The door opened again and a burly man entered. “And Titan will stay to make sure we have no…trouble.”

The porter took the last seat, between Elliott and Kenniston.

“What game will we be playing?” Lord Hovell asked genially.

“And for what stakes?” Kenniston demanded.

“You all will know the Lyon’s Den is known for unusual games and the most interesting stakes. Tonight is an evening for both.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s veiled gaze traveled around the table. “Tonight is a new experiment. A game of true chance in both play and stakes. We will all show whatever it is we are carrying in our pocket—and those items will be what we play for.” She reached down and pulled out a pair of diamond earrings, rolling them like dice before her. “Here is my contribution to the pot.”

Lord Hovell laughed with delight. “Well, I should have gone home before I attended tonight.” He pulled a leather envelope from his coat and slapped it on the table. “Here is an agreement to purchase a lovely little estate near Bath. I just got the paperwork today.”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Lundy said. He pulled out a handful of notes. “I am afraid I only have…not quite a hundred pounds on me.”

“That is part of the fun of such an evening,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon assured him. “It is totally random—what you might end up with.” She turned to Elliott. “What of you, Mr. Ward?”

“I am worse than even Mr. Lundy, I fear,” Elliott confessed. “All I have is a few coins and a notebook.”

“Might there be anything of possible value written in your notebook?” the widow asked.

“Valuable to some, I should think. It contains detailed notes on a young girl’s account of horrific abuse by her employer.”

Kenniston scoffed.

“Now, that’s nothing to scorn. I imagine it would be valuable to the employer,” the widow said.

“Or the newspapers,” Anna added.

“You would both be right, especially as the employer is a peer of the realm.” Elliott very deliberately did not look at Kenniston.

“So, not so bad a stake at all, Mr. Ward,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “What of you, Lady Anna?”

“I am afraid I will be the worst of the lot,” Anna said quietly as she laid several folded papers before her. “All I have are some statements regarding a crime, made to a country constable, but never even presented to a magistrate.”

Kenniston went rigid, even as Elliott stilled. He very much hoped Anna and the widow knew what they were doing.

“Ah, well. It’s all part of the fun, Lady Anna. Do not fret.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned to the viscount. “Come, Kenniston. Turn out your pockets.”

The man had to tear his eyes away from the papers before Anna. “I’m afraid I only have my cigarillos,” he said, producing a silver case.

“Come now, sir,” the widow chided.

“I’m afraid I have nothing else,” Kenniston bit out.

“Well, it is a good thing Titan is here with us. He was formerly in the military, you know, and is somewhat an expert. Are the viscount’s pockets empty, Titan?

“No, ma’am,” the porter answered respectfully. “He is carrying a firearm. Quite noticeable by the line of his waistcoat.”

“I remind you of the rules,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said coldly. “Empty your pockets, sir.”

The viscount’s breathing had quickened. “What is the game?” he asked.

“Quite a simple one, really. Something we might all recall fondly from our childhood. The game of Battle.”

“Oh, that’s one even I can play,” Mr. Lundy said.

“We will each draw a card from the stack in the middle,” the widow instructed them. “The highest card wins, and the winner collects all the cards in that hand. The player with the most cards at the end wins all.” She swept her hand to indicate the table. “It’s a true gamble, you see, as the outcomes are random. If you care to play, sir, empty your pockets. Otherwise, you may leave.”

Kenniston stared at Anna, then at the reports. After a moment, he laid a highly decorated pistol on the table.

“Very nice,” Elliott said, peering over at it. “Manton’s work, isn’t it? A bit too long to fit in your boot. Lucky for us, I suppose.”

Kenniston growled under his breath. “Let’s play, then.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon tapped the table. “Robin.”

The dealer brought out a set of dice. “We will roll to see who draws first. High roll takes the first card, then play will proceed to the left.”

Lord Hovell won the roll. He drew a two of clubs, and play progressed, with everyone pulling a low number, until Anna, at the last, pulled a ten. She looked pleased as all the cards were slid over to her.

Lord Hovell won the next round, and Elliott the third. Play proceeded and Kenniston won several rounds in a row, as did Lord Hovell, until, as the pile of cards diminished, it became clear that one of them would be the victor.

“I believe the two of you are tied,” the widow said. “How exciting. If either of you wins the last round, you take it all.”

“It might be my night after all,” Lord Hovell said brightly.

Kenniston drew first on the last round. He pulled a jack and began to look excited as Elliott drew a four.

Hovell came next. He gave a shout of triumph as he turned over an ace.

Kenniston leaped to his feet. “I call foul play! What nonsense is this? Four aces have already been played.”

“I remind you, these are my rules,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon reminded him. “If you were listening carefully, you would have heard me say we would play from this stack , not deck of cards.” Her tone took on a note of derision. “And if you were counting face cards then you surely know that four jacks have already been in play, but you didn’t object when you just turned another one.”

“No. This is crooked as a barrel of snakes. I won’t have it!” The viscount was turning red. “The game is forfeit. We must all take our own belongings with us.”

“ My. Rules ,” the widow said callously.

“No! You cannot!” Breathing like a bellows, Kenniston took up the gun and pointed it at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “You think you are clever, don’t you, Lady Anna? Well, I tire of these games. Give me the reports or I will shoot the widow.”

Elliott surged to his feet, but Titan had clearly anticipated the viscount’s action. He was on his feet and slightly behind Kenniston before he finished speaking. The porter viciously kicked out at the viscount’s chair, slamming it into the back of Kenniston’s legs.

Kenniston lost his balance and stumbled back. His arm and the gun swung high.

Titan calmly reached out and snatched it away. Kenniston struggled to right himself, then straightened to find the barrel of his own pistol aimed at his temple. He let loose a volley of curses.

“We play all sorts of games at the Lyon’s Den,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said sweetly. “Titan, see the viscount is added to the banned list. And see him off the premises, if you will.”

“Hold a moment,” Lord Hovell said. “Just a moment. I would like to say something. But first, allow me to collect my winnings.” Everything was pushed over to him. He raked it into a pile and cast a glance at the widow. “I may divvy it up as I see fit, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent.” He put the earrings in her hand and folded her fingers over them. “You must have these back, dear lady.”

Sighing, he turned to face the rest of them. “I’m an old man. I’ve lived a less-than-exemplary life, I admit. I never married. My sister tells me I never grew into an adult. I’ve caroused with my similarly inclined friends for far too long, I suppose. But I thought I was familiar with the catalogue of my sins, until now. Unfortunately, I’ve just discovered I missed one. I mean to make up for it, of course, now that I know the truth, but still, it burns to be confronted with the consequences of my own shallow indolence and carelessness.”

His gaze hardened as he turned it on Kenniston. “My only comfort is knowing that most of my sins have been against myself and not of a malicious nature.” He pushed the constable’s reports and Elliott’s notebooks over to Mr. Lundy. “Here you are, sir. If you will deliver these to Lord Sidmouth, please? He is expecting them.”

Kenniston made a sound of protest.

Mr. Lundy accepted the evidence with an air of efficiency. “Indeed he is, sir. And I have made sure the home secretary has an opening in his schedule tonight, so that he may hear what the young lady has to say.”

Elliott stared at Anna, triumph and pride rising in his chest. “You did it,” he breathed, shaking his head in wonder. “You set out to do it, and you did it.”

He turned to Lord Hovell. “I have another name. Another name that Lord Sidmouth will wish to ask his people to look into. A girl who took a maid’s position in the viscount’s residence. She apparently defied his advances and soon after disappeared. Someone in the household alerted the authorities, but they haven’t heard of anyone following up on the case. Her name is in the notebook as well.”

“Well done, Mr. Ward.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon gestured at her porter. “Titan, please escort the viscount away from here.” The widow stood. “Prepare yourself, sir,” she said to Kenniston. “The days of your misdeeds staying hidden in the dark are over. The light of justice is coming for you.”

Kenniston had lost much of his bluster. His face had gone pasty and he kept swallowing. “This isn’t necessary. I didn’t… I won’t…”

“Get him out of here,” the widow said. “He is vile, and the sight of him disgusts me.”

Elliott turned back to Anna, but she wasn’t celebrating. She still looked pale. Her gaze upon him was a complicated mixture of hope and resignation.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon linked her arm with Anna’s. “Come, my dear. You must prepare for your talk with the home secretary.”

Mr. Lundy was filing all the papers away into a leather satchel. “Thank you for a most interesting evening, madam.” With a nod, he departed.

Anna resisted the widow’s pull at her arm. “Mr. Ward,” she said, her face somber. “Elliott. I wish to thank you for everything you have done for me. I hope to see you again. Very soon.”

He took a step toward her as the widow gently pulled her away.

“A word, please, Mr. Ward,” Lord Hovell said quietly.

Confusion and dread churning in his gut, Elliott watched Anna go before he turned to the man.

“I could see that Kenniston recognized my name when I was introduced. And I could see that you, in turn, did not know who I am.”

Elliott frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. Who are you?”

“I am the trustee left in charge of the fortune Lady Anna is to inherit.”

He stared. “Left in charge?”

“By her father.”

Fury was rising, hot enough to burn all of Elliott’s other emotions. “But then, you were… You might have… She need not have gone through any of this?” He could not keep his voice from growing louder, his fists from tightening. “You might have helped her, seen to her—”

“Yes. I might have. Should have.” Shamefaced, the man let out a sigh. “Martindale was my best friend and worst rival. We got up to every sort of mischief.” Elliott made a sound, but Hovell raised a hand. “I knew he pursued shady dealings, but I didn’t know the details. I didn’t want to know. And when he told me he left his daughter in the country because she was sickly, riddled with anxiety, averse to social situations, preferring her books to people?” He sighed. “Well, I believed him.”

“That bastard,” Elliott raged. “You bastard! You never thought to visit? To check on her welfare?”

“The thought of it was too painful.” Hovell snorted. “And I am very good at avoiding anything that might pain me.”

Elliott turned away.

“I mean to make it up to her. I will take her in, see that she is happy and cared for.”

It took all of Elliott’s strength not to knock the man down. “ I will see her happy and cared for. We have plans. We made promises—”

“Yes, yes. I know. What would you have me do, Mr. Ward? Let her take a position as a teacher or companion? When I can give her the sort of life she was meant to have?”

The words were a blow. The sort of life she was meant to have .

“There is one more thing. The articles of the trust give me a little leeway in certain matters. Anna has asked me to stretch them a little, in your case.”

Elliott stared at him blankly.

“Anna has been under much strain. She has risen to face her challenges most extraordinarily, I know you will agree. She quite puts me to shame.” Hovell raised a hand as Elliott started to speak. “The girl deserves a moment to take a breath. To evaluate her choices for her future without fear, threat—or pressure.”

Elliott’s heart sank at the truth of it.

“Give her a bit of time, Mr. Ward. That’s all I ask.” Hovell took a step toward the door, but stopped. “For the record, the Black Widow is on your side.”

Elliott closed his eyes.

“Oh, and Anna wished for me to give you this.”

He opened his eyes to see Hovell extending the leather envelope he had used as his stake in the game. He pressed it against Elliott’s chest and walked out.

Slowly, Elliott opened it and pulled the papers out—and then he sank into a chair. He stared at the door through which had Anna had disappeared.

It was the deed to Bramberly.