Lyon’s Prey

by St. Claire, Anna

  “I recollect that, although the details of her death evade me,” Evan murmured. “So, will you stand up for me?” he asked, redirecting the conversation and smiling at his friend. “You have not answered me, and I asked yesterday.” He laughed good naturedly.

  “I would be honored.” Banbury watched him. “You are looking forward to this. I can see it, and I am stunned. Three days ago, I would have sworn you would never marry again. Ha! I think I will stay away from the Lyon’s Den. I am not ready to get caught by the parson’s noose.” He guffawed.

  “I cannot say I am thrilled about it, no.” Evan took a small sip of the scotch he had been nursing all morning. “But after the week I have had, I can see reason that it could benefit my life at this time. The woman is not Amelia, but she is interesting. And given time, I think we could rub along well.” He spoke thoughtfully, looking at his friend.

  “There is nothing that says you cannot find happiness a second time, with another woman. Losing Amelia was dreadful, but this woman is no wilting daisy. You need a woman who can challenge you. My opinion.” Banbury grinned.

  “True. However, I am not looking for a great love story here. Just someone to take care of Edward. He arrives the day after tomorrow, and I need to structure a better household to care for the lad.”

  In truth, he did not want a marriage of convenience, having known love. But there was little choice. He was not sure if he was ready for a wife, but he needed to find a solution. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had handed him one. A marriage of convenience could be a worthwhile start. He realized he wanted to try to make it more, if possible, and it motivated him to select and send a gift to Charlotte. It was the first time he had thought of her as Charlotte.

  “I sent her a wedding gift this morning and am curious as to whether she received it. I had a special messenger deliver it. I disguised the seal with one I think my sister used occasionally.”

  “I would never have expected that of you,” his friend said. “I think that was the right thing to have done.”

  “Look!” Evan pointed to a paragraph on the next page. “Dean notes that her uncle inquired about her dowry. That makes me suspicious, considering all of this,” he said, rattling the papers and slapping them down on the corner of his desk. “What do you say to an early dinner? I can have Cook pull together a decent meal, and perhaps we can talk about the arrangements for tomorrow. I do not plan to go to the Lyon’s Den this evening.”

  Banbury grew sober. “You know this is Matthew’s sister—Matthew, our friend,” he emphasized. “We may not have Matthew to answer to, but I want your word that you will treat her with respect,” Banbury asked, a note of contempt in his voice.

  “Relax, Christopher. I have no intentions of dishonoring my new wife, regardless of whether our relationship improves beyond the merits of suitability.”

  The door opened, and both men quit the conversation.

  “My lord, you have a missive.” Bernard entered and held out a silver salver with the sealed note on it. “It was delivered a few minutes ago by a young man who said he worked for the Romney household.”

  Evan lifted the note and opened it. “That will be all, Bernard.” The butler started to leave. “Wait,” Evan stopped him. He read the note and looked up at his friend. “How unusual. The note is from Lady Charlotte’s mother. She indicates that Langdale plans to betroth her daughter to Lord Burton tomorrow. She asks if I can arrange something to help.” He glanced up at his butler. “Has her messenger left, Bernard?”

  “No, my lord. He said he needs to return with a reply.” Bernard stood at attention with the salver in front of him.

  “Give me a moment to draft a reply. I will bring it to you,” Evan said.

  “Of course, my lord. I will let the young man know,” he said, turning and leaving the room.

  “Allow me to pick up your bride. I have a carriage without any emblem, and I will ride with my men. This seems a bit coincidental to me—not on the ladies’ part, but on the part of Langdale. I do not like the man. He is a bottom feeder.” Banbury spoke softly to his friend. “We do not want a hitch on your wedding day,” he added.

  Evan guffawed at the timing of his friend’s joke. It was part of Banbury’s charm that he could diffuse a tense situation. “I fear you are right. They are asking for a time that is not even respectable. Can you do this?” He smirked in his friend’s direction.

  “I will do it for you, Clarendon. Of course! And after I see you wed, I will take my leave and catch up on my rest.” He snorted.

  “Then it is settled. I will pen that you will arrive at six o’clock tomorrow morning to pick them up. If you do not mind, I will follow and conceal myself once we are on their property. It is bad luck to see your wife before the wedding, and I have had enough of that, so I will rely on you to get her safely into the carriage. But I do not want to invite bad luck by not being careful with the baron. I want to be there.”

  “That works,” Banbury agreed. “I understand your sentiment; however, I think that is an old wives’ tale about not seeing the bride. Then again, if things go badly, your bad luck will be that Mrs. Dove-Lyon still has you within her parson’s snare. Her next pick might have a terrible . . .” He paused. “Disposition,” he finished with a grin.

  Evan penned the instructions and pulled the other wax emblem from his drawer. It was the one he had used earlier for the wedding gift. Dripping the wax, he sealed it and took it to Bernard. “Please have this delivered to Lady Charlotte Grisham,” he instructed, ignoring the idea of sending it to her mother. If the mother’s concern was legitimate, surely his bride would be aware of it as well.

  “Right away, my lord.” Bernard left the two men alone.

  “You distrust everyone these days, Clarendon,” Banbury quizzed when the door closed.

  “Let us say I am suspicious of this whole situation, and I will endeavor to trust my wife. At least I will try,” he said, pouring himself a small measure of scotch and passing the decanter to his friend. “Have you spoken to your investigative friend . . . Sinclair? I wish to try to find Matthew. If her uncle is as cagey as I think, we may have difficulty removing him from the young lord’s guardianship. Finding Matthew would help that. He is their heir, after all.”

  “You would also supply an acceptable guardian, Clarendon,” supplied Banbury. “I sent word for Sinclair to meet with me. He sent me a missive that I found very interesting.”

  “Please do not keep me in suspense,” prompted Evan.

  “Sinclair was engaged for a short period by Romney to find his son. Shortly after the earl’s death, he was sent word to abort the search. I could speculate on who sent those orders, but I think in all fairness, we should meet with Sinclair and get the firsthand information,” Banbury quipped.

  “I could never have had this level of good timing and fortune at a gaming table,” he said with astonishment. Even though I do mostly win. It still rankled him that he lost a wager at the Lyon’s Den and did not have a clear memory of said loss. Still, he found it hard to be downcast about it, although a small part of him wondered how much money he bet double or nothing.

  “I am not so surprised, considering there are only a few credible investigators being used and the elder Lord Romney would have used his connections to locate Sinclair. He is the best, by far. He will be in London in three days and asked if we could meet him at White’s for lunch.”

  “I will be newly married, but I believe I can manage,” Evan said. “As part of my renewed effort to change, I have engaged a decorator to meet with my countess. I will move the meeting up to correspond with this and doubt I will be missed.”

  Banbury pushed back from the table. “I must go if I am to get enough rest. We will save your bachelor’s celebration for a post marriage one, if you will.”

  “Sure. But you gave me one the first time I married.” Evan laughed. He realized that he had spoken several times of his first marriage without the pain he was used to feeling, and he had not been in his cups. Was it possibl
e to put that pain and sorrow behind?

  “Yes. So we did give you a party. Are you saying you have gotten too old to celebrate?” Banbury goaded.

  “Of course not. I miss the fun we had with Matthew—the three of us and Lucas. The four musketeers, we called ourselves. It would be nice to feel that unencumbered again.” He sighed. “Matthew was much more grounded than the rest of us. I hope we can find him, as much for my future wife as for myself—for us. I had not realized how much I missed the camaraderie of our small group,” Evan mused.

  “It is almost dinner time. I think I should go home and get things ready.” Banbury stood to take his leave.

  “No, stay, please. Consider it my stag night.” He grinned. “I am sure that Cook has made plenty.”

  “You have a dinner guest, then.”

  The two men snickered and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as Jane left her room, Charlotte slid from her bed. Shortly before dinner, Charlotte had received a short missive from Evan explaining the arrangements and giving an introduction to his friend, the Earl of Banbury, who would be helping them. Putting her blue velvet robe on over her shift, she grabbed the traveling bag from the bottom of her wardrobe and carefully packed the lavender dress among the rest of her items. Then she set the bag aside and began to dress herself.

  As quickly as possible, she slid on her corset and pulled the strings tight, determined to maintain some semblance of respectability. She wished she could have left her corset overnight on for ease, but there was no way to do that with Jane assisting her. Quickly, she chose gray sateen with delicate silver-lace edging that secured with silver ribbons. She carefully dressed in her hose, shoes, and undergarment assembly, then set the ribbons so she could pull them taut by herself. When she had finished struggling into the dress, she felt ready.

  Charlotte started to leave but turned back. Her gift! Quietly, she opened her bedside drawer, reaching into the back and grabbing her note and the small green jewelry box. Opening it, she carefully placed the emerald ring on the familiar gold necklace she wore around her neck, pleased to have it slide next to the small locket containing miniature pictures of her parents and two brothers.

  Satisfied she had everything necessary, Charlotte opened her door and looked up and down the dark hall for any signs that someone would still be awake. Seeing none, she held her bag tight and tiptoed downstairs. The bag was small enough that she was able to hide it in Mama’s parlor behind a large potted plant that stood in the corner behind a wingback chair. It would be a good spot to wait. She could keep an ear open for the carriage and quickly grab her bag from its hiding place. Making sure the door was closed tightly, she sat in the chair and closed her eyes to wait for her mother where they had agreed.

  Mama had decided to bring Jason with them, not comfortable leaving him in case her uncle came earlier and discovered their duplicity. Hopefully the man would not discover where they had gone. Both of them had kept quiet on their plans, sharing them with no one except each other.

  She checked the time on the hallway clock. There were only three more hours before they were to leave. Nibbling her lower lip, she wondered how she would manage this day on so little sleep.

  Charlotte closed her eyes, and within minutes dozed into a light sleep. In her dreams she and the Earl of Clarendon stood at the door to a large room, holding hands and smiling at each other while they welcomed guests to a Christmastide feast. Long tapered beeswax candles in two large golden chandeliers illuminated a room decked out with seasonal greenery. Beautiful china and stemware decorated long tables draped in white tablecloths. Food of every sort was being brought into the room and placed on serving tables against a far wall with wonderful aromas wafting her way. “Mmm.”

  “Charlotte. Wake up.” Her mother shook her shoulders. “’Tis time to leave. There is a man approaching the door. I believe our carriage is here.”

  Charlotte blinked and looked into the blue-green eyes of her mother, who was smiling at her, and the half-awake ones of her little brother. “Mama. Jason. Sorry, I must have dozed.”

  “You were having a delicious dream, daughter,” her mother whispered playfully. “You were licking your lips. You must share your dream when we are away.”

  “Oh! I cannot recall the dream. I do feel hungry,” she divulged slowly. She did remember seeing the food in her dream, a point brought home to her by the grumbling in her stomach. She had been so nervous the evening before that she barely allowed herself to eat, afraid she might become ill. That decision was coming back to haunt her with pangs of hunger. “I am sorry. I think I might be hungry,” she said sheepishly. “Let us hurry if they are here.”

  Charlotte grabbed their pelisses and Jason’s coat and hat from the cloak stand, feeling in the pockets for her kid gloves. Mama said that was the best place to keep a spare pair, just in case. If this was anything, it was just in case.

  Jason said nothing as his mother and sister ushered them from the house, each carrying a small bag.

  A tall blond-haired man met them at the bottom of the steps to her home. “I am the Earl of Banbury,” he whispered his introduction to Charlotte, her mother, and her brother. “Let us be off. Clarendon waits for us just beyond the gate with the carriage. We chose not to pull it up close to the house.”

  She could see the black carriage with a footman standing beside an opened door, and she breathed easily, realizing they would make it away from the house without discovery. A man on horseback cantered up beside the carriage, and she recognized Lord Clarendon.

  “Warming bricks and thick covers await you. We do not have far to go. We are going to Banbury’s townhouse, which, like yours, has a small gated yard in front of it for privacy. We will leave from there for the ceremony at the chapel,” Clarendon said, his gaze fixed on Charlotte.

  Charlotte wanted to thank him for the presents—but not in front of Mama. When her mother’s head turned, she carefully pulled the necklace out of her collar and showed him the ring. He smiled and gave an appreciative tilt of his head. He has a nice smile.

  As the carriage lurched forward, both women relaxed against the dark leather squabs.

  “I feel like a girl again, slipping out under the cover of night.” Mama chortled.

  What did her mother just say? “Mama, you and Papa slipped out? I should be shocked!” Charlotte feigned an indignant tone, and both women giggled. It felt good to be able to breathe, unfettered by the fear of discovery. “I admit to feeling a little nervous. I do not know him, Mama.” Charlotte worried her lip.

  “Darling daughter, I am sorry to have had to play this hand, but without Papa, I feared for your safety. I overheard your uncle and Lord Burton. He is not a nice man, and I would not have wished you married to him. I had no idea what to do, not until you came home in Lord Clarendon’s carriage. It is for the best,” she added, leaning over and squeezing Charlotte’s hand.

  Charlotte felt manipulated but was not angry with Mama. She was taking care of her the same way Charlotte had been taking care of Jason when she had visited Lord Clarendon.

  The carriage slowed and turned into a bricked driveway. The two men handed their horses to a waiting stable hand and stood ready when the door to the carriage opened.

  “Thank you, Lord Banbury. We are most appreciative,” her mother intoned as he handed her out of the carriage.

  “Mama, where are we?” Jason asked, wiping his eyes and looking at the large gray stone townhouse.

  “Your sister is getting married today, my darling. We are here to celebrate,” Mama answered smoothly.

  “Will Uncle be coming?” he asked as he leaned toward the doorway, his voice trembling.

  “No, my dear, your uncle has some appointments he must attend to,” she answered her son. “Let us go inside.” She helped him stand and handed him off to Lord Banbury, who was at the door.

  Charlotte wondered about her brother’s question asked in a voice tinged with fear. She had hear
d Uncle address him with a sharp tone, but she wondered if there had been more unseen.

  Lord Banbury placed Jason down on the brick driveway and surveyed the small group as the carriage doors were closed behind them. “We have a few hours before we need to be at the chapel. I have made arrangements for the carriage to pick us up at nine. My housekeeper, Mrs. Plume, stands just inside the door, ladies. She will lead you to rooms to allow you to freshen up or take a quick nap, whatever is your pleasure. If anyone would like to break their fast, the food is being placed in the small dining room on the right of the main hallway. Thomas can lead the way.” He gave a slight wave to indicate a tall gentleman with salt and pepper hair and silver sideburns standing at the door.

  The butler bowed. “It is my pleasure to see that you have everything you need, my lord and ladies.”

  Charlotte’s heart fluttered as he walked toward her. She found him handsome, but with all that had taken place these past days, she had given herself time to take full measure of the man. His dark brown hair was fashionably cut above his ears and complimented his stylish attire. He wore his black greatcoat opened at the front to reveal a burgundy waistcoat over a burgundy shirt and black cravat hugging a lean upper body, while his black breeches and Hessian boots emphasized his muscular legs. He held his gloved hand out, and she placed hers in his palm.

  “I apologize, my lady, for the secrecy,” Evan said sincerely, locking his gaze with Charlotte’s. “However, I am familiar with your uncle and his tactics. He will most likely discover you gone in an hour or so. We will be using Banbury’s carriage to the church. My carriage will be waiting at the chapel by the time we leave, allowing us to ride to my home. Langdale will have no recourse at that point because you will be a married woman.”