Page 5 of The Lyon’s Love Letters (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #78)

“V ery good, Miss Parker. Your references are exactly what we like, your own education appears to have been excellent, and the sample lesson you provided suggests you will make an effective teacher.” Miss Walters, of Walters Employment Services, bundled the papers into a file and closed it with an air of satisfaction. “You mentioned a teaching position, or perhaps a post as a companion. Would you consider an appointment as a governess?”

Anna blinked. “Perhaps. If the post were outside of London.”

“We don’t have any requests right at this moment, but we do get them, and your willingness to leave London would put you near the top of the list.” Miss Walters stood, ending the interview. “I shall have a talk with my partner and we will see what we can find for you.”

“Thank you. I will check back in with you, then. In a day or two?”

“Fine. And do remember to leave us your address, once you find permanent lodgings.”

“I will.” Anna left the woman’s private office, allowing the receptionist to step in before she stepped out.

“We’ve had another urgent request from Lord Kenniston,” the receptionist said, her voice low. “He’s looking for both a maid and a housekeeper.”

“No doubt he is,” Mrs. Walters said darkly. “And no doubt he’s sent the same message to every employment agency in the city. We will not be sending another woman into that household, as I’ve already informed his lordship. And we are not the only ones to refuse to accommodate him.” Miss Walters waved a hand. “Ignore it.”

Anna stopped in the act of pulling on her gloves. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you mean to say that Viscount Kenniston is back in Town?”

At Miss Walters’s disapproving stare, she gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s just that my cousin has got himself mixed up in the crew of wild young gentlemen that flock around the viscount. If they have returned to London, I would like to let my aunt know.”

Miss Walters relented. She held out her hand for the message, checked it, and nodded. “He does appear to be at his London residence. But Miss Parker, I would advise you, and any other young woman, to give Viscount Kenniston a wide berth.”

Anna nodded. “I am only too aware of the wisdom of that advice. Thank you, and good day.”

In only a matter of minutes, she was back in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s fine, unmarked carriage and heading back toward the Lyon’s Den. The interview had gone well, but the news about Kenniston made her nervous. Sitting forward, she gazed out the window at the busy streets and told herself not to worry. In a city full of so very many people, how could she be in danger from Kenniston? He couldn’t know where to look. He couldn’t possibly find her.

And neither could Mr. Elliott Ward, a tiny voice said from deep inside her.

She shushed it and tried to distract herself with the view out the window—which was exactly when she spotted him. As if that small, thin voice had summoned him.

Mr. Elliott Ward.

He was walking down Piccadilly, a frown upon his face. Traffic had slowed, so she saw him looking back over his shoulder, just before he ducked into a print seller’s shop.

Without a thought, she banged on the ceiling. “Stop! Stop the carriage, please!”

As soon as the vehicle slowed, she was opening the door. Without waiting for the step, she was out like a shot, leaping down into the street. “I won’t be a moment,” she cried, heading for the print shop.

Ignoring the shout of protest from Lysander, the tall, muscled porter from the Lyon’s Den—who, as her escort, had been standing on the back of the carriage—Anna darted across the pavement and ducked into the shop. Once there, she stood just inside, catching her breath and wondering what in blazes had she just done.

She didn’t care. She wanted—quite badly—to see Mr. Ward again.

Thankfully, the shop she’d invaded looked to be respectable. Perhaps elegant, even. It was very bright inside, with rows of windows near the ceiling. The light bounced off gilt frames, glass surfaces, and tasteful bric-a-brac. Ladies and gentlemen of obvious means browsed prints of classical antiquities, exotic plants, and foreign lands.

She took it all in, in an instant, and spotted Mr. Ward at once. He stood just around a corner, whose shelves contained porcelain busts of several sizes. He’d been watching the door, and when he saw her walk in, his green eyes lit with surprise and delight. A grin began to spread across his face—before it was chased away by a look of sudden horror. “Lady Anna!” He rushed toward her. “Whatever are you doing here? Blast it, you might have ruined everything!”

“I saw you in the street and I had to…” Anna stopped and stared up at his still-frowning, still-remarkably-handsome face. “Is something wrong?”

He gripped her arm and pulled her around the corner. He didn’t take his hand away, but peered back toward the door. She tried to ignore the warm jolt of pleasure at the contact.

“I was coming to see you,” he said in a fierce whisper. “That is, I was hoping to find you. I think I must have been recognized at Martin’s Nest. I only today arrived back in Town, to find my rooms have been searched. Wrecked and searched,” he added bitterly.

“Oh, dear.” The sizzle of excitement turned to alarm. “I heard that the Reverend Brandage’s home was ransacked as well.”

He put it all together as quickly as she had.

“Kenniston,” they said together.

“Did you burn the files?” she asked breathlessly.

“Of course. I promised I would. Now it seems the viscount is quite desperate to get them.”

“Did you look at them?”

He shuddered. “No. I don’t want to move through Society knowing everyone’s follies.”

“Kenniston’s must be worse than a folly, or he wouldn’t be so determined,” she said. “I heard he went to Bath, presumably looking for me.”

“And then came back to London, presumably looking for me.” Mr. Ward sighed. “What’s worse, now you might be back in his sights. I realized as I marched straight toward the Lyon’s Den that someone was following me—I can only hope he didn’t notice you come in here after me.”

“There’s little chance of that,” she said wryly. “I’m afraid I made a spectacle of myself. Anyone on the street could have noticed me. It’s just, I caught sight of you, and I…”

For a moment their predicament was forgotten and they gazed at each other as the air between them swirled with heat and awareness. Anna basked in the strange, sudden feeling of connection.

Until his attention was caught by something over her shoulder. “Blast,” he muttered. “That man is fixed on you. He is not the one who followed me, but there could be more than one.”

Her breath quickening, she looked, but gave a sigh of relief. “No, that is Lysander, my escort.” She beckoned Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s employee, and he headed toward her with a look of relief. But Lysander’s expression darkened when Mr. Ward gripped her arm again and pulled her toward the back of the shop.

“Behind your escort. That’s the fellow that was following me,” he breathed. He pulled her through a curtain and into a storage room. It took only a moment for Lysander to come after them.

“Unhand her, sir.” The burly servant advanced on Mr. Ward, his face grim.

“It’s all right, Lysander,” Anna said, stepping into the servant’s path. “Mr. Ward is a friend, but the man who came in behind you is not.”

“Kenniston must have had my rooms watched,” Mr. Ward said. “I realized someone was trailing me and had just decided not to come to you at all, and then you showed up.” He breathed a sigh of exasperation.

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “I should not have behaved so impulsively.”

His frown softened a little. “I would be glad that you did—except that we cannot allow Kenniston to find where you are staying.” He paused, thinking. “You have a carriage, I assume?” He looked between her and Lysander.

They both nodded.

“Then let us handle it this way.” Elliott gestured toward a passage that led further back into the building as he peeled off his coat. “Switch coats with me,” he said to Lysander. “You go back out and browse around a bit before going back to your carriage. I’ll take Lady Anna out the back. Green Park is not so far from Cleveland Row. We will meet there. Bring the carriage to the east end of the reservoir in an hour’s time.”

“How did you know I have been staying in the Lyon’s Den?” Anna asked, a little worried. “No one knows.”

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon will wish to know how you came about that information as well,” Lysander said roughly.

“I saw her name on the papers as you folded them away.” Mr. Ward held up a hand. “That is all I saw. On my honor.” He gestured at Lysander to give him his coat. “Come. Before that bounder comes looking.”

With a sigh, Lysander made the exchange. “It’s a sound strategy. An hour,” he said sternly. “Not a minute longer.”

“Agreed.” Mr. Ward looked down at her, and everything about him abruptly gentled. “Come,” he said.

Neither of them moved. For a long, sweet moment, all the urgency and intrigue drew back. They were left alone in a private bubble that felt alive with hope and promise.

“Come,” he said again.

And she followed, feeling an immense relief. She wasn’t alone and she didn’t have to despair. Not all gentlemen were shallow, selfish, or untrustworthy. Men of honor did exist—and one of them had a hand on her arm, urging her toward a back door leading into an alley in an unfamiliar part of London.

She followed without a qualm.

Elliott grabbed a cloak that hung on the wall and flung it over her shoulders as they walked out. “We’ll stay back here as long as we can,” he said as they started down the alley.

Worry stabbed at him, but elation was soothing the wound. Yes, they were in a bit of trouble, but she had spotted him and rushed to his side. All those lingering thoughts and recollections of her—had she been having the same of him?

The alley ended in a courtyard, and they were forced to follow a narrow lane back to Piccadilly. “Step out when there is a crowd of pedestrians,” he told her as he pulled her to a stop. “I’ll follow along behind you, playing your long-suffering servant.” He flashed her a grin.

She nodded in understanding, smiling back before she studied the flow of people on the pavement.

“Enter the park as soon as you can,” he told her. “Head for the reservoir. Take one of the benches near the grove of shade trees along the narrow end.”

Nodding again, she gestured toward a cluster of walkers coming their way and stepped out in their wake.

No hesitation, no wavering, he thought in admiration as he followed her. She had strength of mind to go along with that stirring, earthy beauty.

She walked briskly along the street, but slowed once she entered the park. Just a young woman taking a stroll, with her faithful watchdog on her heels. She settled on a bench, and he took up a station several feet behind her.

“Come and take the other end of the bench,” she said.

“I cannot. A servant wouldn’t. We don’t wish to call attention.”

“There is no one to see.”

“Servants gossip,” he said, nodding toward a pair of nursemaids minding several children between them. The elder of two kept glancing up and calling after one of her charges. “Miss Charlotte! Do not stray so far!”

“Step nearer, then, so we may talk.”

“Yes, my lady,” Elliott said cheekily. “Whatever you say, my lady.” She laughed, but he grew serious. “I’ve been thinking. I believe we may have made a mistake.”

“In burning the files?”

Damn, but she was quick-witted. “Yes. I’m not sure we will ever be able to convince Kenniston we destroyed them without looking at them.”

“People do tend to judge others by the way they would behave themselves.”

“I suspect that will be the way of it.”

“He would never find himself in possession of such information and not make use of it, so why would we?”

“Just so. He’s going to great lengths to find those files,” Elliott said softly. “I fear whatever your father knew, it must have been…damning.”

“I fear you are right, which means I don’t think he is going to stop.”

“Nor do I.”

“Then what will we do?”

“I’m going to have to discover whatever it is that your father knew. If we don’t have that leverage before he finds one of us, or if he believes we are lying about not possessing it—then I’m not sure how far he will go to try to keep us quiet.”

“ We, ” she said fiercely. “ We are going to discover it. Not you . You are only mixed up in this because you sought to help me.”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“We are in this together.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I won’t let you do this alone.” She sounded low and deadly earnest, which was exactly how he felt about keeping her safe. “I’ll look on my own, if I must,” she vowed. “So leaving me out won’t keep me safe at all.”

“Are you reading my mind?” he asked wryly.

“I think I am reading your heart,” she whispered.

He stilled. It might have been the most dangerous—and truest—thing he had ever heard.

“Come back, Miss Charlotte,” the nursemaid bellowed.

They stood on a precipice. He could feel the wind in his hair.

He gave a nod, knowing he was stepping into thin air.

“Thank you.”

He opened his mouth to reply—and stopped. “Turn around. Don’t be obvious, but look to the left of the water. The man in the caped coat is heading for you. He’s the one who followed me from my rooms.”

“I see him.”

He stepped close behind her at the bench. Bending over her shoulder, he pulled his hat low over his brow and spoke quietly. “Follow my lead. We might yet fool him.”

She nodded.

“Glance coquettishly over your shoulder and give a little laugh.”

She did.

Stepping around to the front of the bench, he took her hand, pulled her to her feet, and began to tug her toward the trees. “Look over at the nursemaids.”

She understood and managed to look worried doing it.

“Token protest,” he whispered.

“Perkins,” she said, “what are you doing? We shouldn’t. What if Nanny sees?”

“Hurry, so she won’t,” he replied with a grin. When they reached the trees, he pushed her back against a tall elm and took both of her hands in his. “If we are lucky,” he whispered, “he will move on.” Elliott inched to the side so he could see the man. “He’s still coming,” he groaned. “He’s getting close.” Gazing down at her, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I think I am going to have to kiss you.” He leaned in, cursing inwardly. This was not how he would have wished their first kiss to take place.

But the surprise he felt—and doubtless showed—when she slapped his face was in no way feigned.

“Perkins,” she hissed, “you forget yourself! Do you think I wish to kiss the footman?”

He stared down at her. “I… No. I suppose not.”

“Well then, you would be wrong.” She put both hands on either side of his face, pulled him down, and planted her lips onto his.

Elliott froze. And then he melted into the lush, rich heat of her gorgeous mouth. Oh, damn, the relief of it. Of finally feeling her, tasting her. Lust shot through him, right down into his very core.

He recalled himself enough to prop open an eye. The follower had halted and was watching them with interest.

“Miss Charlotte!” called the elder nursemaid. “Where have you got to?”

Lady Anna pushed him away. “You see! I have to get back! Even Nanny will notice that we have both gone missing. Do you want her to tell my mother ?”

The fellow watching gave a snort of disgust and walked on.

“That did it,” Elliott whispered. And oh, the truth in that statement.

Very gently, she pushed on his chest until he stepped back. She stepped away from the tree, straightening her skirts. “Oh, good. Look, there is Lysander and the carriage, out on the road now.”

Elliott followed as she stepped out from the trees. Oh for…for the sake of little green apples. This was either going to go horrifyingly badly—or unexpectedly, spectacularly well.