Page 24 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

M rs. Dove-Lyon entered, and the room seemed to still as she approached the table where Amelia poured her a cup of tea.

There were only four chairs, so Blakewood stood behind Amelia, putting Mrs. Dove-Lyon across from Sam, with Daisy on his left and Amelia on his right.

The heavy curtains were closed for the evening and more candles had been brought in to light the room.

She sipped carefully without wetting the heavy black lace covering most of her face.

Daisy, for her part, regulated her expression well and didn’t reveal the shock he expected.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon, dressed in her signature black garb, was a startling sight.

Once Sam gained membership at her club, he’d quickly earned a reputation as an astute card player and then as an undefeatable opponent.

She’d approached him on more than one occasion to thank him for providing suitably desperate men ready to make a deal or commit to one of her matches, but her appearance never ceased to be striking.

Blakewood caught his gaze and took the lead. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, a pleasure to see you again. This is my sister, Miss Daisy Blakewood.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon tipped her head slightly. “How do you do, Miss Blakewood?”

“Very well, thank you, madam.”

Just having the widow’s attention on Daisy made Sam sweat. Really, it wasn’t as if the woman would kidnap her. She was just a woman. Her power could only extend so far. He had to calm down, but panic raced under his skin. She might hold Sam in her grip, but not Daisy. Never Daisy.

“Are you visiting for long?” the widow asked Daisy.

“Only until my parents return home from their travels,” Daisy answered.

“How bored you must be, cooped up in this gloomy house.”

Daisy smiled sweetly. “I’m enjoying the respite.”

“You’re not out?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked in an intrigued tone. “Shouldn’t you be taking the ballrooms by storm? You are lovely, my dear.”

Daisy blushed, and Sam knew it wasn’t a ruse or a practiced act.

Daisy was as pure and genuine as they came.

If only for that reason, she shouldn’t be here at all, spending hours alone with him, but Sam was loath to let her go.

Not until he was better and out of the dungeon his room had become.

She was the only medicine that made him feel better and he wouldn’t give her up without a fight.

“No, madam. Not yet. The timing wasn’t right for this season. I want to thank you for your assistance in Lord Alston’s recovery. I understand we would not have him here without your help.”

“A most sincere expression of gratitude. What a breath of fresh air you are, Miss Blakewood.” Mrs. Dove Lyon turned her attention to Sam. “You look better, Lord Alston, I must say.”

“I’m recovering well, thank you.”

She lifted her cup and took a sip. “Mr. Chase has informed me you are slowly regaining your strength.”

“As swiftly as I can,” he said, which was true. “It has not been without struggle. It will take time,” he added. He’d given so little thought to the contract this last week. How swiftly would the widow expect him to marry once he was healed?

“Good.” She nodded her head. “I look forward to your return to my club. Gentlemen are getting cocky, not having your superior card playing to remind them of their place.”

“All in good time,” Sam murmured.

“Lady Ameila, Mr. Blakewood, you look well. Your marriage has caused quite the stir.”

Amelia lifted one shoulder. “Like all gossip it will fade when someone else commits a more fascinating transgression.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon chuckled. “Oh yes, it is only a matter of time.”

Sam was growing impatient. “Well, as you can see, I am alive and am making slow but definite strides in healing. Perhaps you should return in, what... six months? See how I’m feeling then?”

Blakewood mumbled under his breath beside him. He could feel her stare as she focused on him.

“Are you trying to be rid of me?”

“Not at all. Forgive me, I am only feeling the need to rest once more. Even sitting strains me.”

“Of course. I can see that you are doing well but are not yet fully mended. We could discuss our bargain more, but I don’t want to tax you further at this time. Wounds need time to heal. Enjoy these days of rest, Lord Alston. All too soon, the future will be here.”

Sam’s gut tightened.

He’d ignore that looming future for as long as possible and live with the illusion that he was a free man, but this was a clear warning.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon always had a strategy. Her words were mere clues.

She loved a game of chance as much as anyone, but she favored manipulating the game for her gain even more. A good gambler never bet on luck.

“Do all your patrons get this level of service?” Sam asked bitterly.

The widow stood. “Just you. You’re my favorite. Lady Amelia, will you see me out?”

“Of course,” Amelia stood and then waited by the door. Miss Smith grabbed her small bag, and Mr. Chase took it for her and followed her out.

Blakewood gave him a long look before following Amelia. Petrov entered to clear the table.

“She’s a formidable woman,” Daisy said. “But she seems kind and concerned about your health.”

“What she seems is subjective.” Sam said.

He could feel Daisy’s confusion and anxiety hanging in the air. His immediate instinct was to go to her, to comfort her. Sam tossed the napkin on the table and Petrov picked up the plates. “Leave us, please.”

Petrov nodded and took the dirty plates away, leaving them alone.

“I’m sorry you’re involved in this now,” he said.

He tried to sound reassuring, but he didn’t believe his own words. He wasn’t sorry. He was selfish. He wanted her here for his own gain, to lessen his own pain, but now the chaos if his life was affecting hers.

She frowned. “Involved in what? I still don’t understand.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

The suffocating feeling of having no control over his life came back, tightening around his neck like a noose.

He’d lost his right to choose his own wife, and he had no idea how long it would be until he lost his unfettered access to Daisy.

Every day that passed was a day closer to her parents’ return.

She’d have no reason to stay here once they came back.

The idea of not seeing her every day burned at his insides. What would he have left then?

He cursed inwardly. What was the point of living if he no longer had power over his own choices?

What kind of life would that be? He’d be married to someone he already disliked, and he’d have to watch Daisy marry another.

They were tied to each other now through Blakewood and Amelia.

Unless he took pains to avoid Daisy—which would be awkward for everyone—they’d see each other often and he would suffer because of it.

Because every moment with her only made him want more.

Something deep and desolate opened inside him.

She sniffed. Was she crying again? “Daisy?”

She shook her head, her arms folded around herself like she could shrink down disappear from his life. He wouldn’t stand for it.

“Please tell me why you’re crying.”

“Don’t bother with me. Truly, I’m still just upset about the letter. It seems Mrs. Dove-Lyon is your Lady Claystone, and it’s... it’s not fair that these people have so much power over us.”

Sam released a sigh. “I know.”

“Even my brother was—not frightened, but wary of her. I’ve never seen him look like that. How can anyone have so much power? What gives her the right to play with other people’s lives?”

Sam leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I had an answer.”

“I just want to have a choice,” she fisted her hands and brought them down on the table with a thump. He’d never seen her angry before. “I want a season, but my mother put it off because Lady Claystone assured her that another year would give me time to...”

She pressed her eyes closed, her obvious frustration a punch to his heart. His arms ached to hold her, but he was too weak to reach for her.

“I know exactly how you feel. I didn’t realize how much freedom I’d enjoyed until it was taken away from me.”

She looked up at him.

“It burns me right here,” he touched his chest.