The Lion's Lady

by Julie Garwood

  "Yes. Aunt Harriett won't let me attend," Diana said. "We are already promised to another affair, but I would much rather go to Rhone's."

  Christina hid her smile. "Of course you would," she said, patting Diana's hand again. "It's all going to be over by tomorrow," she added in a mock whisper.

  "How could that be?" Diana whispered back. "Do you know something you aren't telling me?" she asked.

  "Yes," Christina answered. She deliberately paused, then cast a glance over her shoulder. When she turned back to Diana, she said, "I have it on good authority that the real Jack is going out hunting tonight."

  Diana's gasp told Christina she believed her. "You mustn't say a word to anyone, Diana, else Jack might find out and decide against going out."

  Diana clasped her hands together. "I won't tell, I promise you," she said. "But how did you learn—"

  "There isn't time to go into the details," Christina announced. "And I have an important errand to see to. May I ride with you back to your home and then borrow your carriage for a short spell?"

  "Yes, of course," Diana responded. "I could go with you on your errand," she volunteered.

  Christina shook her head. "Hurry, Diana. There's much to be done."

  "There is?"

  "Never mind. Now dry your eyes and come along."

  Christina pulled Lyon's sister behind her. She turned Diana's attention away from the matter of Jack by asking several questions about her family.

  "Was Lyon close to his brother James?" she asked.

  "For a time. They were very competitive," Diana said. "Lyon would always best James—in riding, sword fighting, and… well, even with women," she added with a shrug. "James seemed obsessed with winning. He took chances."

  "How did he die?"

  "Fell from his mount. He didn't linger. His death was quick. Baron Winters, our family physician, said it was painless. I think he might have said that to ease Mama's mind."

  "About your mother," Christina began, her voice hesitant. "Diana, I know you must be very close to her, but I hope you won't argue with my plan."

  "What plan?" Diana asked, frowning.

  "I would like to take your mother with me tomorrow when I return to Lyonwood."

  "Are you serious? Does Lyon know of this intention?"

  "Quit looking so suspicious," Christina admonished with a small smile. "I do have your mama's best interests at heart. You have a season to see to, or I'd ask you to come along. I know the separation will be difficult for you. She is your mama, after all," she told her as she continued on.

  Diana lowered her gaze to stare at her hands. She was ashamed of the acute relief she was feeling. Someone was finally going to take charge of her mama. "It is dreadful for me to admit this to you, but you are my sister now, and so I will confess I will not miss Mama at all."

  Christina didn't know what to say. She opened the door of the carriage for her sister-in-law, then said, "Your mother has been a bit… difficult, then?"

  "You've met her," Diana whispered. "All she wants to talk about is James. She doesn't care about me or Lyon.

  James was her firstborn. Oh, I know you think less of me now. I shouldn't have told you that I—"

  Christina reached out to take Diana's hands in hers. "You must always tell me the truth. It's the only way to go along, you see. Diana, I know you love your mama. You wouldn't be so angry with her if you didn't."

  Diana's eyes widened. "I am angry," she announced.

  "You must go inside now. I have to see to my errand," Christina said, changing the subject. "Please have the servants pack up your mother's things. I shall come and fetch her tomorrow morning."

  Diana suddenly lunged at Christina, capturing her in an awkward hug. "I am so happy Lyon married you."

  "I'm also happy that I married him," Christina told her.

  Diana let go of Christina. She climbed out of the carriage, then turned to plead once more to go along on the mysterious errand. Christina again denied her request, then waited until she'd gone inside the townhouse before turning to the driver and giving him her destination.

  "Do you know where the Bleak Bryan is located?" the driver responded. His eyes were bulging out of his face, and he swallowed several times.

  "No, I don't know exactly where it's located. Do you, sir?"

  "Well, yes, madam, I do," the driver stammered.

  "Then that is all that matters, isn't it? Please take me there at once."

  Christina got back inside the carriage and shut the door. The driver's pale face suddenly appeared at the open window. "You cannot be serious, madam. The Bleak Bryan is in the most unsavory part of London. Cutthroats and—"

  "Bryan is a special friend of mine. I must go to him now, sir. What is your name?" she asked.

  "Everet," the driver announced.

  "Everet," Christina repeated. She gave him a smile meant to dazzle him, then said, "It is a very good name. Now then, Everet, I must tell you that I will be very unhappy if you don't do as I've requested. Yes, I will," she added in a firm voice.

  Everet paused to scratch the bald spot on the top of his head before answering. "That's the rub of it, madam. You'll be unhappy if I don't take you to the Bleak Bryan tavern, but your husband, when he hears of it, will kill me. I'll be getting it no matter what I do. That's the rub, all right."

  "Oh, I understand your hesitation now. You don't realize my husband has specifically requested that I make this visitation to Mr. Bryan. Put your fears aside, my good man. Lyon knows all about this."

  Everet did look relieved. The Marchioness's sincerity was apparent to him. She was such an innocent little thing, Everet thought. Why, she wouldn't even know how to be devious.

  The driver stammered out his apology, requested that Christina bolt her doors from the inside, and then hastened back up on his perch.

  He drove the carriage at breakneck pace. Christina thought the man might be a little frightened.

  Her conclusions were proven correct when they finally arrived at the tavern. When Everet helped her from the carriage, his hands were shaking. He kept glancing over his shoulder. "Please, madam, be quick with your business in there. I'll be waiting inside your carriage, if you don't mind," he whispered.

  "Oh, you don't have to wait for me. I don't know how long my business will take. Go along home now, Everet. Mr. Bryan will see that I get home."

  "But madam," Everet stammered out. "What if he ain't inside? What if he went on an errand of his own?"

  "Then I shall have to wait for him," Christina announced. She started toward the door, calling her gratitude over her shoulder, and before Everet could get his wits about him to think what to do the Marchioness had disappeared inside the tavern.

  She hadn't come unprepared. No, she wasn't as foolish as Everet's look suggested. Christina hid a small knife in her hand; her regular one was strapped above her ankle. She was far more comfortable with the larger knife, but she couldn't very well carry it in her hand. Why, she'd be giving the impression she wanted a confrontation.

  From past experience, Christina had learned that most mischief makers were an ignorant breed. One had to be firm from the outset.

  She stood inside the doorway for a long minute as she looked around the crowded area in search of the owner. There were at least twenty men sitting at the wooden tables and another few leaning against the warped bar that ran the length of the right side of the large room.

  A man was standing behind the bar, staring gape-mouthed at her. Christina assumed the gentleman worked for the owner and immediately started over to him.

  She didn't get more than halfway there before the first oaf tried to deter her. The man was rank with the smell of ale, his motion awkward when he tried to grab her.

  Christina slapped his hand away with her blade. The man immediately let out a howl of pain. Everyone inside the tavern watched the big man lift his hand and stare at it in astonishment.

  "You cut me!"

  His bellow shook the rafters. "You cut me,
" he roared again as he started to lunge toward Christina.

  Christina hadn't moved. She flashed the knife in front of his eyes. "Sit down or I shall have to hurt you again."

  She really didn't have time for this, she told herself. There was so much to be seen to before Rhone's party.

  "You cut me, you—"

  "You tried to touch me," Christina answered. The tip of her knife rested against the befuddled man's throat. "And if you try again, you'll be drinking your ale from the hole I shall fashion in your neck."

  She heard the snickers and turned her gaze to find the offender. "I have business to attend to with Mr. Bleak Bryan."

  "Are you his lovey, then?" someone shouted out.

  Christina let out a sigh of frustration. The mischief maker sitting next to her immediately thought to attack again.

  She never even looked down at him as she pricked a narrow, shallow cut in his neck.

  He howled again. Christina turned her gaze to the ceiling, praying for patience.

  Yes, the mischief makers of the world were all the same. Ignorant.

  "I'm the Marquess of Lyonwood's lovey," she told the group of men. "My husband's friend is the owner of this tavern. I have immediate business with the man, and my patience is wearing thin." She paused to scowl at the man holding his neck. "It is a paltry cut, sir, but if you do not cease this foolishness, I promise the next will be more painful."

  Though Christina didn't realize it, the news that she was Lyon's wife had changed every man's opinion. "Leave her be, Arthur, if you want to live. She's the mistress of Lyonwood."

  "Your name is Arthur?" Christina asked.

  The man she'd just questioned was too terrified to answer her.

  "Arthur is an appealing name, sir. Do you know the story of Camelot? No?" she asked when the man continued to stare at her stupidly. "Your mama must have read the tale then and named you after King Arthur," she decided for him.

  Arthur wasn't listening to her. His mind was far away, captured by the nightmare of what the Marquess of Lyonwood was going to do to him when he heard of this foul incident. "I didn't mean nothing by trying to snatch you. I'm good as dead," he whined. "I didn't know—"

  "That I was a married lady?" Christina asked. She let out a sigh. "Well, I suppose you couldn't have known I wasn't available, but it was rude of you to try to snatch a lady without gaining her permission first," she instructed. "But you're not going to die because of your ill manners, Arthur," she added in a gentle voice.

  She turned to address her audience. "Does anyone else want to try to snatch me?"

  Every single man inside the tavern shouted his denial. And they kept shaking their heads in unison.

  It was an amusing sight, but Christina hid her smile. She didn't want them to think she was laughing at them.

  "Is your promise true?" she demanded, just to make certain it was safe to put her knife away.

  Christina did smile then. She couldn't help herself. The men's vigorous nods were too amusing a sight.

  "Arthur, go and wash your cuts now," Christina instructed over her shoulder as she walked over to the bar to wait for the attendant. "I shall send medicine to soothe the sting just as soon as I'm finished here. Does anyone happen to know where Mr. Bleak Bryan is?" she asked the silent men.

  "Connor went to fetch him, miss," a man called out.

  Christina smiled at the thin little man. She noticed then that he was holding cards in his hand. "Are you having a game of chance?" she called out, biding her time until Bryan arrived and trying at the same time to ease the tension in the room. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you, sir."

  "No, no," the man replied. "I couldn't get no one to play."

  "Why is that?"

  "Nitty is too lucky, miss," another shouted out.

  "Are you a patient man, Nitty?" Christina asked.

  "Don't rightly know, your grace," Nitty answered.

  Christina decided against explaining that she shouldn't be addressed as "your grace." The man looked very nervous to her.

  "Shall we find out?" Christina asked. Her husky laughter warmed smiles onto the men's faces. "I would like to learn to play cards, sir, and if you have the time and the inclination, now would be fine with me. I must wait to speak to the owner…"

  "I would be honored to teach you the ways," Nitty announced. His shoulders straightened. "Poppy, clear a space for the lady," he ordered. "Get her a clean seat, Preston. What game were you wanting to learn, miss?" he asked.

  "What game do men like to play?"

  "Well now, your husband's game is poker, miss, but of course you wouldn't be wanting to learn—"

  "Oh, but I would," Christina announced.

  "Here, miss," another shouted. "I'll stake you to a few coins when you've caught on."

  "Coins?"

  "To bet with," another eager man said.

  Christina couldn't believe how helpful the men were. The man named Poppy made a dramatic flourish with his arm as he bowed. "Your chair awaits, my lady," he announced. "Spit's dry now. It's clean as can be."

  After taking her seat at the round table, Christina nodded to Nitty. "Do you know my husband, then?" she asked as she watched him flip the cards together. "You said poker was his game," she added as explanation for her question.

  "We all know of him, miss," Poppy announced over her shoulder.

  "Oh, that is nice," Christina said. "Now then, Nitty. Explain this game to me. Thank you for your coins, sir, and you as well, and… oh, I don't believe I need this much money, gentlemen," she added when the coins mounted into a heap in front of her. "You are all so very generous. My husband is fortunate to have such good friends."

  Christina's husband was thinking much the same thought as he finished giving his orders to five seedy-looking but very loyal men behind the tavern. Bryan stood by his side, wishing with all his heart he could take part in the charade.

  "Damn it all, Lyon, I wish I could be there to see Rhone's expression. Remember, lad," he told the man who was going to imitate Jack, "to stay in the background. Your eyes aren't as green as Rhone's are. Someone might notice."

  "Bryan, you got to come back inside," the bartender nagged for the third time. "I'm telling you a fight is brewing. Didn't you hear the screams?"

  "I only hear men having a good time, Connor. Whoever sparked the fight must have changed his mind. Now get back inside before I'm robbed blind."

  Bryan scowled Connor inside, then stayed beside Lyon, listening to him advise the men.

  A sudden roar of laughter caught his attention. Bryan nodded to Lyon and then strolled back inside the tavern to see what everyone was cheering about. He immediately noticed the crowd had gathered around the corner table, and he started forward just as several men shifted their positions. He was able to see the occupants of the table then. After a long disbelieving minute, Bryan turned tail and ran out the back door.

  "Lyon, are you finished yet?"

  "I was just leaving," Lyon answered. "Why? Do you have a problem?" he asked. The tone in Bryan's voice had put him on his guard. His friend sounded like he was strangling.

  "It isn't my problem, it's yours," Bryan answered.

  When Lyon tried to walk inside, Bryan blocked the entrance with his arm. "Are you still a betting man, Lyon?"

  Lyon let Bryan see his exasperation. "I am."

  "Then I'll wager you're about to get the surprise of your life," Bryan said. He moved to the side, then crooked his thumb. "Your surprise is waiting inside."

  Lyon didn't have time for foolishness. He hurried inside, believing Bryan wanted him to disarm a man or two.

  The crowd of men blocked his view of the table. "There's no danger here," he told Bryan. "What's the attraction, I wonder," he added. "Does Nitty have a new victim for his card tricks?"

  "Oh, it's a card game all right," Bryan drawled out. "Frankie, how's the game going?"

  "The little miss just bested Nitty with a paltry pair of tens," someone called out from the crowd.

  "
Ain't my fault," Nitty bellowed goodnaturedly. "She's got a quick mind. Why, she took to the game the way crabs takes—"

  "Watch your mouth, Nitty," another man shouted. "The Marquess of Lyonwood's woman is respectable, you stupid little sod. Talk clean in front of her."

  The Marquess of Lyonwood's woman.

  He couldn't have heard what he thought he'd just heard. No, it couldn't be…

  Lyon turned to Bryan. His friend was slowly nodding. Lyon still had trouble believing. He walked over to the crowd. Some of the more anxious men moved out of his way.

  The cheering abruptly stopped. Christina wasn't aware of the tension in the atmosphere, or the fact that her husband was standing directly behind Nitty, staring at her.

  She was concentrating on her hand, her frown intense. Nitty, on the other hand, was afraid to look behind him. He could see the expressions on the faces of the men who stood behind Christina. None of them looked too happy. "I believe I'll fold, miss."

  Christina didn't look up, but she drummed her fingertips on the tabletop and stared at the five cards she held in her other hand. "No, Nitty, you can't fold now. You told me I had to put up or fold." She pushed the pile of coins into the center, then glanced up to smile at her new friend. "I shall see you."

  Nitty dropped his cards on the table. "Uh, miss, you didn't have to put all the coins in the pot. I've got you beat with my three kings, you see, but you can have the coins back. It's only a teaching game."

  The men nodded. Some grumbled their approval while others cast fearful glances in Lyon's direction.

  Christina didn't dare look up from her hand. Nitty had warned her that the expressions on players' faces often revealed what they held in their hands. Since Nitty had already shown her his cards, she wasn't sure if that law still applied, but she wasn't about to take any chances… not with the wonderful cards she'd been dealt.

  "Fair is fair, Nitty. Winner takes all. Didn't you say that?"

  "I did, miss," Nitty stammered out.

  Christina placed two sevens down on the table. She'd deliberately withheld the other three cards. "Gentlemen," she told the men hovering around her, "Prepare to collect your winnings."