Page 6 of The Lyon’s Love Letters (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #78)
L ysander told Mrs. Dove-Lyon everything, of course. When the widow questioned her, Anna confessed and told her how she’d met Mr. Ward, how he’d helped her back at Martin’s Nest. She said she’d felt duty bound to warn him about Kenniston.
She did not tell her that they had plans to thwart the viscount.
She did not tell her about that kiss. Perhaps it had been a mistake, but Mr. Ward hadn’t dismissed her, or laughed at the notion of her help. He’d agreed to work with her, and the exhilaration she had felt, the sense of rapport—perhaps it had carried her away.
Or perhaps it had just been the dappled sunlight on the sharp-hewn angles of his face. Or the warmth of him, standing so close. Or the easy way they had slipped into their roles, playing off each other so well, the flirtation coming so easily.
She flushed again, thinking of it. She didn’t wish for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to know any of that. To read something into any of it. To interfere. Anna wanted this to continue on, to play out on its own, to see what might come next. It was like opium—that kind of acceptance. That lovely sense of belonging. She wanted more of it, if she could get it.
And, perhaps, maybe even another kiss.
All of which was why she didn’t tell the widow that she had agreed to meet Mr. Ward again this afternoon. And it was why she was lurking near the door in the ladies’ parlor, waiting for Hermia to step away from the entry. And why she slipped out quickly when a client arrived and Hermia escorted her toward the viewing gallery.
Meet me at the entrance to the lodge in the park, he’d said. And he’d asked her to wear her plainest dress.
She hurried to the designated spot, and there he was, standing by the stone pillar at the edge of the gate. His face brightened when he spotted her, a grin lighting his face and reaching his eyes, making them crinkle most appealingly—and somehow also making her own heart race.
Everybody should have this, was the thought that echoed in her head. Everyone should have someone in their life who looked so utterly happy at the mere sight of them.
“Good afternoon,” he called. “I confess, I was a bit afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
“Afraid? Not a bit hopeful ?” she asked.
He sobered. “I suppose I should have been. But I wasn’t. Not at all.”
She smiled back at him then, and hoped he felt even a tenth of the reaction she had.
But he was frowning now, running his gaze over her. She flushed a little when his eyes lingered on the finely carved buttons that closed her pelisse—and followed the line of her curves.
“This won’t do,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s just—you look too fine. Too refined, I should say.”
His words made her realize the difference in him. Both times she’d seen him before he had been dressed in tailored clothing, looking every inch the son of a peer. Polished and shining, as if the privilege of his ancestors lit his path.
He looked more rugged today. Less genteel. His clothes were similar, but not so fitted or made of such fine materials. “It’s all right, though,” he continued. “I’ve planned for this.”
“You have plans, then?” The perhaps you would care to share them was clear in her tone.
“I do. Would you mind walking while I tell you? I would like for us to catch a hack, if you wouldn’t mind. We should find one if we head back along Picadilly.”
“A hack?” Her interest piqued. “How exciting.”
“I’m afraid the reality is not so romantic,” he said a few moments later, as he handed her into a shabby carriage that smelled of old cigarillos. “But there are worse odors to encounter in a hired gig.”
“I shall take your word for it. But please,” she said as the vehicle started off, “tell me what is in Long Acre.” She’d heard him give the address to the driver.
“Well, I thought it would be wise to go on as we have begun.” He waved a hand to indicate his clothes. “Twice now I’ve masqueraded as a servant, and it’s served us well enough. I thought, if you want to discover a man’s secrets, who else but his servants would be so familiar with them? And, just perhaps, be willing to talk of them?”
“So you mean to speak with Kenniston’s servants?” She paused. “Wait. I did hear that the viscount is looking for both a maid and a housekeeper.”
Mr. Ward raised both brows. “Where did you hear that?”
“At an employment agency.”
He blinked. “We will come back to that in a moment, I think.”
Her mind was turning. “But perhaps I might—”
“Enter the viscount’s household?” he interrupted, incredulous. “Even if he would not know you straight away—which he would—you could not do such a thing. If it came out…” He shook his head. “Your reputation would never recover.”
He was likely right. “But perhaps—”
He laid a hand on hers.
It was just a hand. The smallest touch. But it was warm and gentle, and she was seldom touched by anyone—and surely there were sparks between his skin and hers? Sparks that threatened to set her alight.
“Would you allow me to lay out my idea?” He grinned. “I’ve had it approved and abetted by Harricks, even.”
“Oh, Harricks,” she said in awe, then laughed. “Who, pray tell, is Harricks?”
“He is the manservant who comes in several days a week to keep me in order. And a fine fellow he is, too. He knows everything about clothes and how to keep them, everything about marketing and where to get the best foodstuffs at the best prices. But best of all, he knows everything about everyone in London—and he agrees with my plan.”
“Well, then. It must be a fine plan, indeed.”
“He says the best place to find servants talking is at a pub that caters to them. Thus”—he waved a hard to indicate his apparel—“I have been outfitted as Carruthers, the new under-butler to the Crawford family, who are in Town for a few weeks and staying in Bedford Square.”
“Oh! And that is why I am too refined? Who shall I be?”
He smiled at her with a flare of heat that warmed her all the way through. “You shall be my sweetheart,” he said softy. “Newly arrived in Town and searching for a position.” His smile deepened. “If you don’t mind, that is?”
“Mind?” she answered thickly. She minded not being able to touch him. She yearned to lay a finger over those creases at the corners of his eyes, to run her hand through his chestnut hair. “I would be honored.”
She didn’t trust herself to say more.
“Good. Now, we will have to get you changed into more appropriate clothes.”
For the first time, she grew nervous. “But how? Where? Into what?”
“Never fear—Harricks has helped me to arrange it all. He’s fetched you the appropriate garments from a secondhand shop. They will not fit exactly right, but that is the point, isn’t it? And Harrick’s sister owns an inn in Long Acre, where we have reserved you a room.”
“A room?” she repeated, startled.
“His sister has been told of our mission. She will be the only one to know, however, and she will help smooth it with her staff. They will only know us both by our assumed names. Now,” he said, raising his brows, “what shall we call you?”
“Miss Parker,” she answered promptly. “It’s too difficult to contemplate remembering two assumed names.”
“My goodness, Lady Anna. I am sensing hidden depths.”
“No, just more of the same.” Taking a deep breath, she decided to trust him with the truth. Or at least part of it. “I am in need of a place to hide. I thought a position as a teacher or a companion would be sure to make me nearly invisible. And so I have been to an employment agency.”
“Hide? From whom?” His eyes widened. “From your cousin?”
“Yes. From him and from men like Kenniston.”
Mr. Ward frowned. “For how long?”
She hesitated. “Until I am of age to receive the inheritance my father left me. Until it is mine and I cannot be made to turn it over to a husband in a forced marriage.”
Mr. Ward sat back, clearly stunned. “That…that’s why you ran? Why you are hiding in the Lyon’s Den?”
She nodded.
“I mean, I knew you had to leave Martin’s Nest to protect your reputation, but I had no idea Martindale and Kenniston had taken things so far.”
“I left before they could. I couldn’t let them steal the few choices I have left. My future. My freedom.”
He went suddenly rigid. “But…Lady Anna, had I known, I would never have burned the papers you father had collected on Kenniston! With that kind of evidence you could force him to stay away and let you be—forever!”
“Actually, no. He believes I have it now, and look how he’s acting.”
His horror was growing. “But you would have had a chance against him—and now you do not!”
Anna leaned forward. “Please, do not think to blame yourself. I would never have made the decision to keep those papers. Not based on what I knew then.” She had to be honest with herself. Even now, she would likely just be hiding away from the viscount, not chasing his secrets, if Mr. Ward were not also at risk. And if it weren’t giving her the chance to spend time with him.
He nodded, but he didn’t speak again. His gaze was unfocused and he was clearly lost in thought until the carriage slowed. It was then that he leaned toward her, his expression earnest. “We must press on. We must gain you the upper hand.” The door opened and he stopped down, then turned back to extend his hand. “Which means we must play our parts as well as we can. Starting now.”
Nodding, she put her hand in his and stepped out.
Miss Parker had arrived—at the Blue Boar, it seemed. She gazed about at the busy courtyard of the galleried inn. It was a hectic mix of animals, people, and a great deal of noise. No doubt Miss Parker would be intimidated. She pressed close to Mr. Ward and placed a hand on his arm.
Surprised, he looked down at her, but then he understood. Patting her hand, he led her into the inn, keeping her close.
Inwardly, she smiled.
Lady Anna Parbury was going to make the most of her role.
Elliott could scarcely believe he’d missed this. An inheritance. And if Martindale’s sulking and Kenniston’s urgency were anything to go by, it must be a large one. This put a different spin on everything. It could be that the viscount wasn’t after the files, but the girl. They might be embroiled in a fool’s errand.
But no. The need was the same, in the end. Lady Anna still needed that information to protect herself.
He’d had it in his hand, and he’d fed it to the fire.
He cursed silently. The only thing this changed was everything important. The fluttering and the feelings between the two of them. The thrill of portent and potential.
No. He had to put a stop to it. She wanted the chance to chart her own future. She wanted freedom, and she deserved it. She had been disappointed and betrayed by the men who should have protected her. She was right. An inheritance and the chance to control it? It would give her the sort of freedom women in their Society seldom found. He couldn’t get in the way of that. He could not remove the looming threat of Kenniston, only to step in and dim the light of her future with his own shadow.
“Mr. Carruthers!” Harricks’s sister greeted him with a smile. “And this must be your sweetheart. Welcome to London, Miss…?”
“Parker.” Lady Anna dropped a curtsy. “Thank you.”
“I am Mrs. Morrison. It’s pleased we are to have you at the Blue Boar. I’ve put you in a snug little room right next to mine. Allow me to show you.”
Elliott nodded to a maid passing with a load of linen. He kept a hand at the small of Lady Anna’s back, playing his part. He let it drop away as they entered the rented room.
Mrs. Morrison shut the door. “Now, my brother has left your change of clothes in the wardrobe. He says the custom won’t pick up at the Three Feathers until later in the evening, when the workday winds down in the great houses. That leaves you a couple of hours. You might as well have dinner in the dining room while you wait.” The innkeeper eyed Elliott with a warning glare. “I know the circumstances are unusual with the pair of you, but I won’t tolerate any tomfoolery. That’s the general rule here at the Blue Boar and goes for all of my guests.” She wagged a finger. “The quickest way to get my staff to pay attention to you is to try to get around it.”
Elliott raised a hand. “Not to worry, Mrs. Morrison. We are focused on our mission and not intending anything untoward.” He took a step toward the door. “Miss…Parker might need a bit of help getting changed. I’ll just wait for her in the dining room, shall I?”
He retreated, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the quick flash of disappointment Lady Anna showed at his assurances. He ordered an ale in an attempt to drown his own matching letdown.
Several minutes later, he looked up from his drink and realized he’d been foolish again.
She wore a looser-fitting navy gown, long of sleeve and high of neck, with a prim white collar for further propriety. And yet she looked not an inch less a lady. The different clothes could not hide the grace with which she moved, or the shine of her hair, its curls now tamed in a simpler style. Her blue eyes were still filled with curiosity and the utter willingness to meet any challenge. And her mouth, that plump, pink mouth, it still sang its siren song.
And he still longed to answer.
“Good heavens,” she said as she took the seat across from him. “I knew this might be an adventure, but I had no idea it would turn out to be so useful.”
“Useful?”
She was gazing around the crowded room, fascinated. “Yes! A ride in a hack? Clothes that I can don without assistance? A meal in a public dining room? I’ve never done anything like it. It’s helping me to understand how different my life will be.” She gave a last look around before focusing on him with a sweet smile. “Thank you.”
Pain. It cut like a knife.
“Have you often done this sort of thing?” she asked brightly.
“Dined in an inn? Yes. Often enough, I suppose, while traveling.”
A girl came to ask if they would like the full dinner. Elliott agreed and shrugged when Lady Anna asked what that meant. “I suppose we will find out, but Mrs. Morrison does not seem the type to serve an unsatisfactory meal.”
She straightened, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I haven’t much money. Not yet. But I can repay you the cost of the meal, of the room, once I have a position.”
His expression closed. “Do not think of it, please. I may only be a somewhat useless lordling, living on the quarterly allowance my father grants me. It might not be much, as the baron can’t spare too much that might otherwise go toward his horses, but I assure you, I can cover the cost of our meal.”
“I meant no insult,” she hurried to assure him.
He softened. “No. I know you did not.”
She looked as if she were searching for something else to say. “Are there sometimes unsatisfactory meals, then? At an inn?”
“I’ve had some memorably bad ones,” he said with a nod. “And I’ve had some that were fine, but very sparse.”
“Our village only had a tavern with a couple of rooms upstairs to let. I was never inside to learn if they even served food,” she mused. “I suppose you learn which inns are comfortable and which are not, over time?” He saw her gaze linger on two men laughing and drinking ale by the fire, and then upon an older couple eating together at a nearby table. “I’ve often thought I would like to travel. I think I will, eventually.” She looked around the room again. “But it doesn’t seem to be the sort of thing one does alone.”
He frowned. “Have you spent a great deal of time alone, then?”
“Oh, yes. Well, for a long time I had my nurse. She was just so comforting and kind. She used to read to me and she could do the most wonderful voices. She could always make me laugh. But she grew older, and my father decided I needed a companion instead. Miss Godfrey hated being stuck out at Martin’s Nest, though. I think she thought she would get to attend me as I took part in the Season and quite resented it when I didn’t go.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She drew a deep breath. “My father kept telling me to wait a year. And another. And another. Eventually, I learned to stop asking.” She looked down into her lap. “For a long time, I thought it was my fault. That I was lacking something, or that he feared I would embarrass him in some way.”
Elliott made a sound of protest.
“But after I found those files, I thought he might have kept me at home because he didn’t want to take the risk I would find out about his…activities.”
“Or that you might have been in some danger from his victims,” he added.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t considered that.”
He was considering it, because it might still be true. But he didn’t wish to frighten her. Not now. “Did you not have friends at Martin’s Nest, in the village or the surrounding country?”
“I ran about with the squire’s sons when we were small, but as we grew, I suppose it was no longer proper.”
“There was no one else?”
“Not really. It’s a quiet corner of Hampshire. The villagers were kind enough, but not really comfortable around me.”
Another twinge.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t say it, but I was never truly alone, for I had my books, and they were a great comfort.”
“Yes. I do know what you mean.” He could not count the hours he’d spent tucked into a tree or burrowing in the high grass in the sun with a book. They were a place to go, to escape his mother’s dramatics or his parents’ arguments over where the money had been spent. “But why shouldn’t you say it?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Thomas always teased me mercilessly about my reading.”
Elliott snorted. “Perhaps because he could scarcely do it himself. But it doesn’t surprise me, I suppose. No one who reads could demonstrate such a profound lack of empathy as he does.”
She bit back a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it, but how right you are! Reading does make it easier to understand someone else’s viewpoint. And it broadens your horizons. I suppose I must trace my desire for travel and new experiences to all the lovely books I have read.”
And here was another reason for him to stay out of her way. She deserved adventure and travel and whatever else she felt she might have missed out on. And he, a baron’s listless heir, could not give them to her.
Except, perhaps… “Look, here comes our dinner. Let’s eat our fill, and then I shall give you a small sort of adventure. Covent Garden is not far from here. We can walk through it.”
“Ooh! So late in the day?”
Clearly she’d heard some talk of the famous market. “It will be safe enough, since you will be with me. Some of the vendors will have left, but not all.”
She didn’t answer. He looked over the delivery of a roasted chicken and vegetables and fresh bread to see her lips pressed together and a growing flush hiding the freckles across her cheeks.
“La—” He stopped. “Miss Parker? Have I said something wrong? Would you rather stay here until it is time to go to the pub?”
Blinking, she shook her head and smiled up at the girl carrying the dishes. “No, your plan sounds very lovely, indeed.”