Page 43 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

D aisy had stayed up to wait for Sam, but at some point, she’d fallen asleep. She woke in the early morning and didn’t bother to dress as she took the back stair and entered his room.

He lay in bed, not sleeping, and arm tucked behind his head.

“Sam?”

He smiled lazily at her. “Good morning, sunshine. Come here and kiss me before Petrov returns.”

“Are you all right?” she asked as she approached the bed.

“I am. I’m only sore after last night’s...” he sighed heavily then winced, “escapade. Come here. I need to touch you.”

Daisy climbed onto the bed, resting on her hip facing him, but her heart, normally a bird with wings when Sam was near, pumped in a sorrowful rhythm.

She just knew he was hurt. And he’d done it for her, so they could be one step closer to marrying, and all she’d done was sit at home.

Today she was supposed to meet with Cliffton and Lady Claystone.

She still did not have any idea what she was supposed to do.

“I’m sorry you have to go to all this trouble for me.”

He cupped her cheek, pulling her near and brushing her lips with his.

“I’d do it all again for you.”

Daisy turned her face into his hand. “I would never ask that of you.”

“No, you rarely ask for what you deserve. That changes now. I’d do anything for you, and I know you’d do it for me.”

“I haven’t been asked to risk my life just to marry you.”

He watched her for a moment, the pale gold stubble of his jaw begging for her fingers.

“What happened last night?” she finally asked.

“I had to take something from Claystone Terrace,” he answered reluctantly.

Daisy put a hand over her pounding heart. “What was it?”

“Lady Claystone’s diary, of all things.”

“What? Why?”

“Lord Claystone has made an enemy of Mrs. Dove-Lyon. There is something in there that could ruin him apparently.”

Daisy threaded her fingers through his. Everything kept coming back to that family. “What do I do about my meeting with Cliffton today?”

“Don’t go. You need to stay as far away from that family as possible.”

Daisy didn’t know how she could do that. Lady Claystone and her mother were still so close.

“What does Mrs. Dove-Lyon intend to do with the diary?”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. She got what she wanted.” He yawned and grimaced in pain.

Daisy tried to move away. “You need rest.”

“One more kiss.”

Daisy leaned over him, pressing her mouth to his and he moaned. She pulled back and wagged her finger. “Rest.”

“ Daisy. ”

“I know that sound. If I don’t leave right now...”

He smiled wickedly. “You can’t resist me—is that what you’re saying?”

Daisy blushed as she hopped off the bed. “You’re incorrigible. Rest, and I’ll come read to you later.”

“Reading? Will you be naked?”

Daisy backed away. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Daisy dressed and went down to breakfast. Amelia was there buttering a slice of toast, but not Graham.

“Where is my brother?”

“A meeting.”

“Regarding Sam?”

“No, some other boring business. He does a lot of boring things and its always early in the morning.”

Daisy sighed heavily as she sat. “He’s always been that way.”

“Is something wrong?” Amelia asked.

Daisy was too overwhelmed to put every worry she was feeling into words. Her talk with Sam had done little to settle her frayed nerves. She knew she couldn’t just ignore Lady Claystone’s summons and expect it to go away.

A footman approached bearing a tray. “A message for Miss Blakewood.”

Daisy accepted it warily. “I hope it is from my parents.” But when she turned it over, the wax seal had been pressed with a lion’s head and her stomach dropped.

“What is it?” Amelia asked. “You’ve gone pale.”

Daisy held up the envelope. “Is that what I think it is?”

Amelia’s eyes widened. She shot up and came to Daisy’s side.

“Open it, Daisy.”

Daisy’s hands shook as she peeled off the wax. She unfolded the paper and elegant script jumped out at her, bold and sharp.

Miss Blakewood,

Your betrothed performed admirably last night, but my ledgers are still stained with red regarding you and him. Come to my office posthaste. I want to make a deal with you to resolve it. I think you’ll agree that your path to wedded bliss is still obstructed, and I have a solution.

Bessie Dove-Lyon

Daisy stared at the letter until her eyes watered. “What do I do? Tell Sam? My brother?” She dropped the message on her plate of eggs and slapped a hand over her eyes.

“No. She asked for you,” Amelia said.

Daisy twisted to look up at her. “I can’t go there by myself. Sam is in bed and he’s clearly”—if she said hurt Amelia might lose her mind—“tired. He’s incredibly tired.”

Amelia patted her shoulder. “You can, Daisy. You’re much stronger than you think. I’ll escort you to the club. Come quickly. Get your cloak.”

After gathering their cloaks and gloves, the carriage was summoned. Amelia patted Daisy’s hand as the carriage rolled down the cobbled streets of London, but Daisy’s stomach would not settle.

“There’s a lady’s entrance,” Amelia said reassuringly. “She is expecting us, so I have no doubt that someone is already waiting for our arrival.”

“I feel like I’m about to meet the queen,” Daisy admitted sheepishly.

“She is. In the Lyon’s Den, she is the queen. Show her deference and she will take mercy on you.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Not well, but enough to guess her nature, I think,” Amelia said. “She wouldn’t be protecting a woman like Miss Brandon if she weren’t a compassionate person at heart.”

Daisy drew in a steadying breath as the carriage came to a halt.

A groom opened the door, and Amelia stepped out first.

“Keep your hood up until we’re inside,” she said.

The side door was held open for them, and there Mr. Chase stood, much to Daisy’s relief. He might not be a person Sam trusted, but he’d always been kind to Daisy, and she just had a feeling he would never put her in harm’s way.

“Lady Amelia, Miss Blakewood, welcome. Come this way.”

He led them up the stairs. The familiar comforts of a home eased Daisy’s nerves as they reached a small receiving room. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. Mr. Chase led them through another door and then down a short hall. He waved them through an open door, stopping Amelia.

“Would you like tea in the ladies’ parlor?” Mr. Chase offered. “Or to play a card game while you wait?”

“I can’t stay with her?” Amelia asked. “She is understandably nervous.”

“Understandably, yes. But a woman must learn to stand on her own, or she might be trampled to death, isn’t that right, Lady Amelia?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said from inside the parlor.

Amelia met Daisy’s gaze and smiled reassuringly. “I’ll see you in a moment.”

Daisy entered the room alone. A figure in black silk sat in the center of a settee, reminiscent of something from a painting of a Renaissance queen.

The door closed softly behind her, and Daisy stepped forward and sat in one of the open chairs.

“I hope you’ll heed my advice, Miss Blakewood.”

“Yes, madam.” Daisy couldn’t remember it word for word. Her thoughts were too scattered, her nerves making it impossible to focus.

“You remind me of someone, you know.”

Daisy swallowed. “I do?”

“She loved to make others happy. She lived to please her parents, her husband, her friends. But she never asked for anything in return. She gave and gave, until she ran dry. She couldn’t please them anymore.”

Daisy bit her lip. “What happened to her?”

“She only gave happiness to others and never to herself. What do you think happened?”

“I . . . I’m not sure.”

“She suffered, Daisy. A great deal. She never had a voice. Never used her voice. She became lost, a shell of the vibrant woman she used to be.”

Daisy’s stomach turned. “Why do I remind you of her, exactly?” She saw the curve of a smile through the black lace.

“I’ve been hearing quite a bit of talk, you know. About your future mother-in-law, Lady Claystone. Her son has returned to London, though it is supposed to remain quiet.”

Daisy jerked in surprise. “Why? I’m supposed to meet with them today, but Sam told me not to go.”

“Indeed, but avoiding catastrophe won’t prevent it, will it?

I feel obligated to tell you that this family is deeply in debt.

You are supposed to be their savior—your dowry, the connection to your father’s vast fortune and land, the infusion of wealth they need to keep up their facade of superiority.

But their time has run out, and Lady Claystone is aware her reign has come to an end. ”

“Is there a reason you’re so cryptic? If you know something, tell me.”

“Ah, there’s a bit of spine. I was wondering if it existed at all.”

Daisy fisted her hands in her lap. “You won’t give me the answer, will you? This is madness. What do you want from me? What do I have to do for you?”

“You need to tell the truth.”

Daisy scoffed. “I have not lied about anything.”

“Not you. Lady Claystone and her son. And now you need to tell them the truth.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon opened the drawer and brought out a red, leather-bound journal.

“Take this to her. In exchange for its return, you will demand, not meek and dulcet like you were before, but with power, Daisy, to be released from your betrothal or you will ruin them. Lady Claystone had every intention of using you to fill her coffers no matter the cost to you.”

Daisy’s mouth dropped open. “What did they do?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon opened the book to a page and turned it toward her. “Read for yourself.”