Page 8 of The Lyon’s Love Letters (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #78)

“I ’ve left you a pot of tea in my own little parlor,” the innkeeper said, opening the door and ushering them in. “I thought you might need a bit of a warmup—and perhaps a bit of a plotting session—after your evening.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Morrison,” Anna breathed. “That is exactly what’s needed.”

“Just for a short while, you understand.” The lady wagged a finger. “Then I will escort Mr. Ward out the front myself. He can lead away that tail you picked up. You, dear, can then go out the door in my rooms, which leads to the back garden. Go through to the alley out back, where my brother will have a hack awaiting you. He will see you back home.” The innkeeper left the room.

Home. The word called up a void in Anna’s heart. The Lyon’s Den was a refuge. She was grateful for it, and thankful beyond measure for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s help. But it wasn’t home.

“This is all so perfectly necessary, it makes me wonder if Mrs. Morrison might not have been involved in a bit of her own subterfuge in the past,” Elliott said, tearing off his cloak.

Anna removed her bonnet and fell back into a chair, allowing herself a moment before she poured. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Even while it is utterly exhilarating.”

She very much enjoyed the appreciation he showed as he watched her.

“Exhilarating and humbling. You were magnificent.”

She could feel the color rising in her face. “So were you. Tell me what Tunley told you.”

“It wasn’t Tunley, but someone even better, and more intimately connected with Kenniston.”

She listened with growing excitement. “This is it, then. If we learn what my father held over the viscount, we can force him to back away. We will both be free to move ahead.”

His expression sobered. “I saw your face when Mrs. Morrison said you were to go home. Are you missing Martin’s Nest? Wishing you could go back?”

“No. Not at all.” She surprised herself with the answer. “But as I said earlier, there was not much of a life there to miss. Right now I am enjoying experiencing so many new things. When I was small, when my mother was still alive, we once traveled to the seashore. I don’t even know which one it was. I do recall it was a sandy beach, not rocky. I sat and sifted the sand through my fingers, searching for shells and other treasures and setting them aside.” She smiled at him. “That’s how I feel about all of these new people and experiences. I’m sorting for treasure and putting aside new ideas for the future. For when I will have my own home at last.” Tilting her head, she watched him. “What of you? Do you miss your home?”

He heaved a sigh. “The estate where I grew up is my parents’ home, through and through. It is where my mother enacts her dramas and my father ignores them while he develops his stud book.” His lips pursed. “Yes, someday it will be mine. Perhaps I will then find a way to feel as if I belong there.”

“But what about now? Even with your frustrations, you must have a place where you go to feel at home?” It felt suddenly urgent that she know this about him, that she could carry the image of him, content and happy somewhere, when she went on from here.

His mouth turned down as he shook his head. “Had you asked me last year at this time, I would have said London. But since I have grown bored with the listless heir’s life, I have been dreaming of finding a place of my own. A place where I can work and grow and…I don’t know. Create something. Build something.” He gave a little shrug. “That’s one of the reasons why I was so determined to get those files from your father’s collection. I thought I had arranged to trade them for a special spot, a place close to my heart.”

“Oh, no.” Dismay struck her. “I haven’t kept you from it, with all of this?” She gestured about.

“No. It didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”

“I’m so sorry. Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s called Bramberly. It’s not grand. Just a manor house on a middling-sized property in Somerset. It’s empty and run-down now, but it has a pretty lake and the house used to be comfortable and welcoming. Many of the tenants have left, but the place could be brought back with attention and care and some good old-fashioned work. It could thrive again, and become a boon to the district once more.”

“Oh, how lovely that sounds,” she said, quite caught up with the idea. “How perfect. A place to work on, to build, as you said. Something all yours, done to your tastes and created from your own hand and mind.”

“Yes. I’d quite set my heart on it. Dreamed of all I would do there. But it won’t happen now.”

She hated seeing him so disappointed. In fact, she disliked it exceedingly. “Well, you should take heart in what we are accomplishing here. You are helping to save me, with the added benefit of thwarting Kenniston.” She grinned, but he didn’t share it.

Sitting straight, she poured his tea and handed it over. “I feel like I should be giving you a medal, or a trophy, or some great, shining token of my appreciation. You cannot know how I appreciate your including me instead of pursuing this without me. I feel like I’ve been shoved aside, moved out of the way, for all of my life. But now? I feel as if I am a different person from the one who woke up just days ago. I’ve done so many new things, considered so many new ideas, felt so much…” She let the words trail away.

For a moment, they sat in silence and drank their tea. She hadn’t meant to leave him such an obvious opening, but there it was. And the fact that he hadn’t seized the opportunity to expand on what he was feeling… Well, it spoke volumes, didn’t it?

But she wasn’t a coward, so she forged ahead. “After tonight, I have a different idea of what my future might hold, and that is something else you’ve given me.”

Wariness settled over him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just, when I thought of the next chapter of my life, I thought it would be more of the same. More isolation. More time set apart from any real sort of life. But being in that pub tonight, it made me see that it needn’t be that way, even if I do take a position as a teacher or a companion. Those people tonight, they formed their own sort of community, didn’t they? I may find a position where I can join a similar group. Or start a community of my own. It just made me realize—I don’t have to be so alone.”

He made a choking sound.

“Elliott? Are you all right?”

He set down his tea, stood up, and walked away. Paced before the door as if he were contemplating rushing out.

Anna felt confused and a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Have I said something wrong?”

He was struggling to stay quiet. Worse, she could see he was trying to remain detached. But he scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked up at her, and suddenly he was all sharp angles and raw emotion. “No. You haven’t said anything wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Except, perhaps, getting tangled up with me.”

She set down her cup as well. “No. I know that is not true.”

“Anna, don’t you see? You shouldn’t be sitting here telling me that you are thankful that we have found a way to neutralize Kenniston!”

“You sound angry,” she whispered.

“I am angry! I’m angry at your father. I’m furious that you were left in such a position at all. You should have been loved and doted upon—not mostly ignored and practically abandoned in the country.” He flung out an arm. “I’m angry with the people in your village who left you to your own devices. I’m furious with your cousin, who betrayed you.” He came and knelt at her feet. “You are a kind and clever and lovely girl. An earl’s daughter, who should have been dancing at grand balls for years, who should have been courted and feted and recognized as the outright darling that you are, not feeling grateful that now you can go and avoid a forced marriage with a villain by entering service! So yes, I am disgusted with fate and Society—but most of all with myself.”

Reaching down, she gripped his hand. “But why?”

Frustration twisted his handsome face. “Because I would love nothing more than to give you all of that—everything you deserve. And I cannot.”

She let go. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“I am not speaking of responsibility, but of what I want . What I desperately wish I could do.”

Longing struck her. She dared not show it now and deepen his pain.

He stared up at her. “You don’t think you can deny it? Everything that lives in the air between us? All that we ignite in each other? All the rustlings and longings that we make each other feel?”

“No. Of course not. But that doesn’t put the weight of my burdens on your shoulders.”

“Wouldn’t you long to help me, if I were the one facing such terrible choices? Of course you would. And I can’t help but think I might be in a position to help, if only I hadn’t wasted so much time, if only I had awakened from my foolish daze earlier.”

She couldn’t keep her lips from trembling. “Then you would not have been in that library when I marched in—and I would not change anything if it meant that we had not met.”

His mouth twisted.

She shook her head. “I won’t have it. You have been a gift to me. Exactly what I needed. A good man. A true gentleman. The proof that I needed. The confirmation that there is truth and honor in the world.”

She reached out to touch the line of his jaw.

He looked up, and something lovely and radiant bloomed between them.

Abruptly, he surged up to kiss her. It was hard and desperate. But then he pulled back. “Your mouth is a gift,” he whispered. “And a torment.”

He pressed another kiss on her. Softer this time.

A question.

A promise.

She answered with a slow caress along that sharp jawline, with the twining of her fingers in his hair, with the urgency of her own need as she claimed his mouth as he’d claimed hers. And then she trembled as his mouth gentled and moved on. Soft whispers and light touches as he skimmed along the line of her throat, as he tasted the sweetness of her skin and felt the rapid beat of her pulse in the curve of her neck and shoulder.

And his hands. Her skin came alive beneath his touch, twitching with need and desire as his fingers glided up from her waist, over her ribcage, and spread wide over the curve of her breast.

She gasped, and his mouth returned to hers, as if to catch it. Who could have imagined his lips could be so soft, and yet so insistent? She opened at his urging and let him inside.

Silky pleasure and rippling desire. That’s what she was made of. Her own hands were moving now, tracing the contours of his chest as if it were a map come to life beneath her fingertips. His hands were exploring both her breasts now, and she was shocked to discover that the pleasure of his touch there called out to her other parts. Desire moved in her veins, stole her breath, jolted down to stir awake her lower regions.

“Take fresh linens up to the third floor,” she heard Mrs. Morrison call, from not too far away.

He pulled away, breathing heavily. Anna stared back at him, dazed with the force of her longing to drag him back.

“I’ll get the tray from Miss Parker.” The innkeeper definitely sounded closer.

He moved back, stood, and dropped into his chair.

Anna wanted to protest, but she drew a deep breath and straightened, reaching for her cup as the door opened.

“My brother is waiting in the alley, miss.” Mrs. Morrison looked to Elliott. “Sir, you had better leave out the front and draw your follower away. He’s been waiting patiently for you.”

Anna stood. “You will fetch me tomorrow, won’t you? Before you travel to Islington?”

“I’ll meet you in the same spot,” he said with a nod. “Early. Ten o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.” She turned to the innkeeper. “I cannot thank you and your brother enough, Mrs. Morrison. My circumstances at the moment mean that I can only offer you my sincere words of thanks, but that will not always be the case. Someday I will be in a position to return the favor—and I will.”

The other woman gave her a fond look. “That was a very pretty speech, Miss Parker. You can come to us here at the Blue Boar at any time, my dear.”

“Thank you.”

With a last look at Elliott Ward, Anna swept out.

Traffic was light this late in the evening. The ride back to the Lyon’s Den went quickly. Or, at least, it felt that way to Anna. Her mind was awhirl. Impossible to filter everything. All the sights, sounds, and dances. The smiles, and the gasps, not to mention all those moments at the end. The ones that left her still hungry. Still aflame.

All she wanted was to go to her room and sort through it all, all the incredible moments that had suddenly burst into her lonely, boring life.

It was not to be.

When she climbed the steps to the ladies’ entrance to the Lyon’s Den, Hermia awaited her. “Keep your cloak on, Lady Anna. Mrs. Dove-Lyon awaits you in her carriage.”

“But—” Anna stopped as Hermia remained implacable.

“She will meet you at the front.”

Anna turned and went back the way she’d come. The carriage waited. As she approached, Titan, the man in charge of all the porters at the establishment, held open the door. She thanked him and climbed in.

“Good evening, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” she said. “I hope I have not done something to offend you?”

“No, my dear. Did you fear I was ejecting you? I only thought we might take a little private airing. I have something I’d like to show you. Also, the club is quite bustling tonight, and I would like to talk with no fear of being overheard.”

“Very well,” Anna said faintly.

“I take it you have had an eventful day?”

“Ridiculously eventful. And tomorrow is likely to be the same.”

“You are making progress in your efforts against the viscount, then?”

“Yes.”

“I must assume you are not working alone?”

Anna sighed. “No.”

“Then I must assume that Mr. Ward is a very different sort of gentleman from Lord Kenniston.”

Anna grinned wryly. “You do not miss much, do you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”

“No, dear. I do not.” The widow leaned forward to peer out the window as the carriage slowed. “Ah, here we are.”

The street they emerged on was quiet. They had arrived at the back of an enormous building. A man stood at a covered entrance, awaiting them.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, ushering Anna inside. “We will be in the Egyptian Room, but we won’t be long.” She paused, then said clearly, “We would like a private chat.”

“Very good, ma’am.” The man wore a simple uniform. “Take this lantern, as it is quite dark inside just now. My men will stay away, and I will await you here.”

“The Egyptian Room?” Anna asked, taking in the marble floors and soaring ceilings. Her fatigue was falling away. “Are we… Is this the British museum?”

“It is. And we are going to have a little look and a chat,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon answered.

Anna marveled as they made their way to the grand hall. The lantern light bounced in eerie shadows off mummy cases, curious jars, and golden jewelry. “Oh,” she breathed. “I’ve read about all the wonderful artifacts sent back by Mr. Salt.”

“And this, my dear? Do you know this?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon gestured to a large stone displayed in a metal cradle, carved with several ancient scripts.

“The Rosetta Stone?” Anna asked. “I think everyone has heard of it. How wonderful to see it in person.”

“Indeed, it is believed it will help us understand much of the past. Scholars are working feverishly to unlock its secrets.” The widow indicated a nearby bench. “Shall we sit?”

“Of course.”

Anna sank down gratefully beside Mrs. Dove-Lyon, staring at the wonders around them.

“I know you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

“Well, yes.”

“It is because I like you, Lady Anna. You seem a kind and upright young woman. You don’t wallow because of the injustices that have struck you. You fight back, and from what I can see, you do it with intelligence and guile.”

“Thank you.”

“As I have said, you have done me a great service. I truly wish to help you in return.” The veiled woman turned to face her. “However, I don’t think you fully trust me.” She raised a finger to quell Anna’s protest. “I understand. I didn’t give you much of a choice, but honestly, I meant our bargain as a kindness. I want you to have the best chance at happiness.” She sat back. “I’ve decided to show you that I trust you .”

“How?”

“I’m going to tell you the full story of the evidence you saved from your father’s files.”

Anna shook her head. “That is not necessary.”

“I want to tell you. Because I believe I can trust you to keep the secret.”

“Of course—”

“But also because I hope it will move you to return the same level of regard.”

Anna sighed.

But Mrs. Dove-Lyon forged on. “When I was a very young woman, I met a man. A gifted scholar. He was handsome, kind, and so intelligent. We were very much in love. And in his love and regard, I changed. I grew into a better person, I believe. But the circumstances… We could not marry. He was going abroad for important archeological work, and I… Well, I was not the sort who would be accepted by his family and peers. We parted. I was heartbroken.”

“I’m so sorry,” Anna said, moved, trying not to think of why she felt particularly sympathetic to a story of thwarted lovers.

“It was the right thing to do. He has had a brilliant career—one that would never had happened had we followed through on our misalliance.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded toward the stone. “Even now, he is one of the leading scholars working on this mystery.”

“You sacrificed your happiness for his.” An ache rose in Anna’s chest, but she pushed it down. Before these last weeks, she would never have understood the pain of such a thing.

“It wasn’t easy. It has never been easy.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon breathed deeply. “However, my situation became bleaker when, after he left, I found I was going to have our child.”

“Oh, no,” Anna whispered.

“I had a daughter,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said quietly. “She was beautiful, and I loved her with all of my heart, but I could not give her the life she deserved.” The widow drew a deep breath. “I had to do what was right for my darling girl, so I arranged for her to be taken in by a member of her father’s family.”

“How difficult it must have been for you,” Anna said. “And how brave.”

“I kept track of her through the years, but I did not see her. I had no contact, as I did not wish the scandal of having such a mother to ruin her chances at a normal, happy life.” The widow paused. “But the generous lady who took her in kept me abreast of her progress. We exchanged letters. And I wrote letters to my daughter. Many letters, through the years, telling her how much I loved her, how much I loved hearing about her accomplishments, her triumphs and sorrows. They were not delivered, but kept safe, to be given to her when she was of an age to understand.”

“Oh, no,” Anna said, suddenly understanding. “My father.”

“I still do not understand how he obtained a handful of them. Thievery, bribery, a disgruntled servant, perhaps. But Martindale came into my club. He played and smiled, and charmed everyone—and then he took me aside and smiled again while he threatened to expose my daughter, to ruin her prospects of a happy life.”

“I am so sorry,” Anna whispered.

The widow laid a hand over hers. “Do not apologize. Your father’s sins do not belong to you. In the end, he has done more harm to you than to me. I paid him. I would happily have done worse to protect my daughter. I have pursued some perhaps questionable actions to see to her happiness, but it all worked out in the end. She knows me, at last. She has accepted me. But she has a husband now. A good life. I could not let your cousin destroy it. Not after everything we have all endured.”

“Of course not. I am very glad I could help.” Anna meant that.

“I know you are. But now you understand what your help has meant to me, and why I am willing to do all I can to help you. You deserve the same chance at happiness that my daughter does. And in pursuit of that, I wish for you to listen to what I have to say. Truly listen.”

Anna laughed a little. “The skilled matchmaker in you has undoubtedly found me a frustration.”

“You have no idea,” the widow answered wryly. “But I understand why you chose independence. Why you were compelled to concoct a plan to deliver yourself from your troubles. It absolutely makes sense for the girl I found at Martin’s Nest. But I want you to think carefully when I ask—are you still that girl?”

“I…” Anna knew the truth of it. “No. I am not. I’ve felt more in the last days than in all the days of my former life.”

“Then perhaps this new girl you have become might make different decisions, choose different plans?”

“She would. I would.” Tears threatened. She’d never felt this kind of pain before, either. “But like you and your lost love, I fear circumstances are against us. He is not in a position to take a wife.”

“Not even a wife with a fortune?”

“It is not a dowry,” Anna reminded her. “The money will not come to me until I am twenty-five. Married or not.”

“But if you wed your Mr. Ward, at least you would be safe from the threats from your cousin, and from scoundrels like Kenniston.”

Anna ducked her head. “I haven’t told him that I fear they might do me harm.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon considered that. “You don’t wish him to feel honor bound to marry you, just to protect you?”

“He is full to the brim with honor. I wouldn’t want that to be the reason he asks me. We have only known each other for such a short time, and all of it has been in this crucible of intrigue. That is no way to choose a life’s partner.”

“I think you are full to the brim with honor, Lady Anna.”

“Or perhaps I just want to be chosen for myself,” she said quietly.

The widow fixed her gaze on the Rosetta Stone and sat quietly for several minutes. “Perhaps there is a way to have both,” she said quietly. She stood. “Come, I think you need to write again to Lord Hovell. And this time, I think I will deliver the letter to the trustee myself.”