Page 34 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

Sir Daniel tugged at his cravat. “Yes. Had you been present I’d have asked for her hand immediately. She was... enchanting. But alas, I heard she married that dusty old tree, Blakewood.”

Sam grinned as he watched Blakewood approach from behind Sir Daniel. “Amelia likes to be challenged. I’m afraid you weren’t stimulating enough to hold her attention. Your heart will recover.”

Sir Daniel straightened. “Blakewood, good afternoon.”

“Sir Daniel,” Blakewood muttered.

Sir Daniel nodded and departed under Blakewood’s glare.

The porter could be heard saying, “Good afternoon, Lord Alston. Right this way.”

Sam sat up, thrill and delight shooting through him.

The porter approached, revealing a slight frown before fixing his expression. Nelson preened as he passed through the room, taking in the attention his appearance as Lord Alston had garnered from the other patrons. The club went silent as they approached, and Sam’s grin only widened.

It was moments like this, usually at the card table, right before he was about to trounce an overconfident player, that Sam relished. The kill. His prey was in his sights at last.

“Mr. Potter, sir.” The footman stepped back and cleared his throat.

Nelson wasn’t yet aware who sat at the table, too busy acknowledging the members around him who waited to see his downfall. Murmurs rose and Sam could hear bets being placed not quite in Nelson’s favor.

Nelson, at last, deigned to look his way.

“Mr. Pot—” He blanched.

Sam waved to the open chair across the circular table and Blakewood, finally, sat to Sam’s right.

“Nelson, good of you to come. I hope you don’t mind a bit of subterfuge. Harmless fun, really.”

Nelson sank into the chair the porter held out for him.

“A brandy for my guest, Quincy,” Sam said to the waiter.

“You look a bit pale. Are you feeling all right?” Sam asked.

“My, my, what? Sam?”

“Yes, Nelson?”

“You’re alive?” he whispered.

“As far as I can tell. Blakewood? Am I alive?”

“It would seem so,” Blakewood folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Nelson took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. He drew in a wheezing breath. “Thank the lord. We thought the worst had occurred. Dear Amelia, in her grief over your... your... illness—”

“Injury. I was injured. Not ill.”

Nelson swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough it would seem,” Sam said.

“We truly thought you’d passed, cousin. We saw you, my mother and I, lifeless. You were passing before our eyes.”

“Such a terrible moment I’m sure that was, and yet not a tear shed for my supposed death, or Amelia’s wellbeing, no.

You should be in mourning, shouldn’t you?

But you chose to take advantage of my death first. Multiplying your debts, parading about like a peacock.

The inheritance, the title, that’s what you wanted. Only that.”

Nelson blew out a breath, his lips flaying open like a fish.

“It’s pathetic, what you are,” Sam continued. “You’ll stop using my title, and you’ll stop wasting everyone’s time with this baseless claim that I’m dead, defiling my sister’s reputation with your lies, and last of all, you’ll be paying your own debts.”

Sam stood and straightened his jacket.

Nelson looked over his frame in disbelief. “But your sister lied to us. She said you were in Scotland when all along you were at home. Why would she do that?”

“To keep your noxious presence at bay,” Sam said.

“Family would not do such a thing!”

Sam leaned over him, his hands on the arms of the chair. “We’re not family, Nelson. Family does not prey upon each other like jackals. This ends now. Do not approach us, do not correspond with us, do not use my name. Consider my sister and me strangers to you.”

“But what about my mother? She’s your aunt. You’d turn your back on an elderly woman? She’s the closest thing you have to a mo—”

Sam took him by his lapels and shook him.

“Don’t you ever suggest, hint, or even think that Ruth was ever a mother to Amelia and me.

She is a leech and so are you. But I’m gracious.

I will continue to supply her yearly allowance.

But you, dear, dear, cousin, you’re dead to me.

Just like I was dead to you.” He shoved Nelson back in the chair and straightened.

He fixed his cuff and then proceeded to the door, followed by Blakewood.

Back in the carriage, Sam exhaled in relief and swiped a hand over his face.

“That went better than I thought,” Blakewood said.

“What did you think would happen?”

“I thought you’d beat him to a bloody pulp.”

“If I had the stamina I might have.”

Blakewood chuckled. “I could do it for you.”

“I don’t want things done for me anymore,” Sam muttered. “It’s my life and I want to live it.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not. Not yet.” Sam knocked on the roof. “To the Den.”

“Aye sir.” The coachmen called out.

Blakewood cursed. “Cards now?”

“No. I’m confronting the Lyon, face to face.”

“You don’t know what she’ll do. We should discuss this. Develop a strategy.”

“It’s not up for discussion. Besides, I know how to play her games, Blakewood. There’s a reason she calls me her favorite. It’s not because I never lose. It’s how I win. She’ll negotiate with me.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will.”

Blakewood sighed.

Sam raised his brows. “She’s but one more opponent.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“To her it is.”