Into The Lyon's Den: The Lyon's Den Connected World (Book 1)

by Jade Lee

  Both Lord Byrn and Amber echoed her movement, but he was the one who spoke. “We can see the portrait now? That would be a delightful cap to the afternoon.”

  “Now?” the countess said, outrage in her tone. “Of course not. I can’t spend my entire day dilly-dallying around with you. You may see the portrait with everyone else, at my granddaughter’s come out ball.” She turned a piercing look on Lord Byrn. “I shall send Miss Gohar’s invitation to your home, I presume?”

  Lord Byrn blinked. “Er, no, actually. She is staying with my sister, Lady Dunnamore. Diana needed the companionship more than my mother.”

  The countess appeared to think on that a moment, then nodded. “Quite right. Quite right, indeed.” Then she smiled at Amber. “I look forward to seeing you dance at the ball. I think you will find it exhilarating, just as I did at your age.”

  Meanwhile, Amber had just realized the countess expected her to attend her ball. Which made absolute sense given that she’d claimed to be in London specifically to attend parties and catch a husband. Which was wonderful! Except, of course, there was no way she could possibly attend. For one, Lord Byrn would never allow it. Nobs didn’t allow common laborers into their events. And though she wasn’t exactly a farmhand, she certainly wasn’t exalted enough to attend.

  “My lady,” she breathed. “You are too kind.” Then she added a slight cough because she was thinking ahead. Lord Byrn would need a reason for her not to attend, and a cold was as good as any.

  “Nonsense,” the dowager said as she herded them to the front door. “Now, off you go. Pick out a pretty dress for tomorrow night.”

  Tomorrow night? Oh, if only she could! But she knew her place, and it wasn’t at the a come out ball. “If I could look at the painting now,” she pressed. “I would be able to focus more on the dancing tomorrow.”

  “Enough modesty!” the countess said as she slammed down her cane hard enough that the sound reverberated through the house. “I will see you tomorrow night!”

  And that was the end of that. In fact, the butler already had the front door open, and a footman was holding out Lord Byrn’s hat.

  Chapter Four

  Elliott stepped into the afternoon sunshine with his mind whirling. The details involved in maintaining their one little lie had just become cumbersome. He’d have to contact his sister and get her cooperation. Then there was the dress and the transportation, not to mention dancing instruction, and—oh hell—he’d have to get his mother to support the lie as well. She did have an old school friend in Germany. That was lucky—

  Then Miss Gold let out a prodigious sneeze. It was loud, and it doubled her over on the steps.

  “All you all right?” He supported her elbow as she straightened up and flashed an embarrassed smile behind her at the butler who had frozen with the door half shut.

  “I do apologize. I hope I’m not getting ill.” She turned and—leaning heavily on Elliott—made her way down the steps.

  He supported her because that was what a gentleman was supposed to do. And he should not appreciate the delight of having her breasts pressed against his side or the view he had of them beneath her demure gown. But he was a man, and so he did. And while he was distracted, she looked up at him and spoke under her breath.

  “No need to worry, my lord. Tomorrow night, you can claim I am laid low by a fever.”

  He had no intention of doing that. He’d seen how eagerly she’d listened to the tale of the countess’s first ball. He had seen her desires drawn on the pages of her sketchbook. Elliott had sisters. He knew how much they dreamed of dancing in the arms of a handsome man. Certainly, he could give Miss Gold that. Indeed, it would give him great pleasure to see her attend a ball. But he also knew that she had pride, and so he found another excuse to give her the gift.

  “Who would sketch the jewelry from the portrait?”

  “Surely you are capable of that,” she said as he handed her up into the phaeton.

  He chuckled. “I assure you, I am not.”

  “One of your sisters, then?”

  “Not likely. Diana sings beautifully, but her handwriting is appalling. And Gwen…” He shook his head. “Gwen reads. She does not sketch.”

  Then he climbed up, tipped his hat to Lord and Lady Prout, who were watching them with clear interest, and snapped the reins as he headed toward his sister’s home. “I apologize. I had meant to take you to the Royal Academy to look at the art there, but it seems we have more pressing matters now.”

  He felt her jolt beside him and was a little insulted by her shocked stare.

  “Whyever would you take me to the academy?”

  “Because I said I would. Did you not think I was a man of my word?”

  “You said that to the countess, not me. And as a way to pressure her into letting me see the portrait.”

  “Even so, I meant to do it.”

  He watched her absorb that with a slow nod. “And now?”

  He shrugged. “Now I must take you to meet my sister Diana. She will make sure you are set for tomorrow’s ball. Is there anything you can think of that needs doing beforehand? Dress and gloves and the like will be managed by Diana, but do you need dance instruction? How quickly do you think you can learn it? Your curtsey was lovely, by the way. No fear there.”

  She slowly closed her mouth as she straightened until he thought her spine would crack. “You were judging my every action in there. Every word, every move to see if I would reveal my lowborn status.”

  He frowned. “I was not!” Not then, at least, but now he was going to present her to society. There were certain standards to maintain. She would not appreciate becoming a laughingstock any more than he would. “But I mean to help you tomorrow, and it will do us no good if you aren’t prepared. Tell me what you need.”

  She stared at him. “I am not going to the ball. You can tell the countess I have a fever.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot, and I will not. As a general rule, I do not lie. There is already so much for me to remember that recalling lies is too exhausting. Therefore, I should very much like you to go to the ball with me tomorrow.” He smiled at her. “Will you do me that honor, Miss Gold?”

  She blinked. Once. Twice. And then she frowned. “Gohar. My real name is Amber Gohar. We changed it to Gold when we settled in London.”

  He nodded. “Ah. Then I am especially happy to introduce you to society under your true name.” He leaned forward. “We are agreed?”

  “I—” She cut off her word as she frowned at him. But he did not look away. And so, obviously flustered, she stammered out her agreement. “I, um, I w-would be pleased to go.”

  “Excellent,” he said as they began moving through the London streets. “Now tell me what else you need. Shall I engage a dance instructor?”

  “Er, no. I know the dances. Mrs. Dove-Lyon has an instructor who comes to the ladies’ side of the den to teach girls while their mothers gamble.”

  “That’s one way to increase business,” he said dryly.

  “In truth,” she said, “I can dance both the men’s and the women’s part.”

  He chuckled. “No need for that.”

  “But the dress—”

  “My sister should be able to help. We are nearly there.”

  His sister’s London home was in an exclusive neighborhood that wasn’t quite the peak of respectability. He knew it was an annoyance to his elderly brother-in-law that they hadn’t managed a better residence, but some things only an old title could buy, and the Dunnamore title was a bit too Irish for that. Nevertheless, the man had done adequately for his family, and there was no shame in that. Elliott pulled to a stop and let his tiger jump down to hold the horse’s heads as he disembarked. Then there was that delightful moment when he could grip Miss Gohar’s waist as he helped her down. Her middle was solid with muscle, thin enough to carry off the best fashions, and situated below the most glorious breasts.

  It wasn’t gentlemanly of him to notice, but some things shou
ld be appreciated.

  “My lord! So happy you are here.”

  Elliott turned in surprise to view his sister’s butler stepping out of the house and waving him inside.

  “My lord, please do come in!”

  That was odd. He’d never seen a butler act so strangely. To come outside like this and wave him inside like a hawker pulling in customers. It was unseemly and—

  The butler dropped his voice to a low hiss. “Hurry!”

  Oh hell. Something was very amiss. “Excuse me,” he said to Miss Gohar as he ran up the walk. The butler looked relieved as he held open the door. Then he pitched his voice very loud such that it echoed through the front hallway.

  “Welcome, welcome, Lord Byrn. Your sister is in the library. Should I announce you?” He asked the question as he was shaking his head and actively pushing Elliott toward the back room.

  Oh hell. “No need,” he said as he rushed ahead and hauled open the library door. He expected to see blood everywhere or a fistfight or something to warrant the butler’s odd behavior. What he saw instead looked absolutely proper, and yet the feeling in the room was horribly wrong.

  His sister was backed against the massive library desk, and her stepson—a man ten years older than she and with twice the weight—lounged against the bookcase four feet away. He looked casual, smug, and as much of an ass as ever. His sister, on the other hand, was pale, and her hand trembled where it touched her throat.

  “Hello, Diana,” he said as he crossed the room quickly. “So sorry to barge in like this.” He pulled her into a gentle hug that allowed him to whisper into her ear. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered back, but there was no strength in the words just as there seemed to be little in her body. Her touch was fleeting, and even the kiss she bestowed was given more to the air than his cheek.

  Despite her warrior-like name, his sister had always appeared delicate with fine features and a bell-like voice. She had a fairy-like beauty, but now she appeared withered. And that grieved him to no end. Why hadn’t he known to stop this wedding twelve years ago?

  He turned to address the Dunnamore heir. “Geoffrey, how odd to see you dressed before tea.” The man usually roused himself only to go to the dens and whorehouses.

  “I’ve come to dance attendance on my father and dear step-mama.” He didn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice, but far worse was the leer he gave Diana. “Father asked me quite specifically to escort her to a…party for some entertainment.”

  He paused before the word party was a clear threat. Everyone here knew his sort of entertainment would not match Diana’s.

  “Excellent,” Elliott cried, much to everyone’s surprise. “We shall all go together then, as I have come specifically to beg my sister’s indulgence.”

  No fool, Diana nodded her head. “I will always come to your aid, Elliott. How can I help my favorite brother?”

  It was a joke. He was her only brother, but it showed him that there was spirit left in her despite her years in this horrendous marriage. Slightly relieved, he crossed to the library door where the butler had just escorted Miss Gohar. He took her hand, oddly pleased that her skin was rough with callouses and had strength. His sister’s frailty had never appealed to him.

  “You recall mother speaking of her friend’s daughter? This is Miss Amber Gohar from Berlin, newly come to town. Mother extended an invitation to stay with us, of course, but we are filled to the rafters without a chamber to spare.” That wasn’t remotely true, but it would serve as an excuse. “We had hoped that you have room to spare for her. The Dowager Countess of Morthan has expressly invited her to her granddaughter’s ball tomorrow—”

  “And you need help getting everything set, don’t you?” his sister asked.

  Miss Gohar curtsied very neatly and spoke in a quiet voice. “It’s all very rushed,” she said. “I have only just arrived in London and—”

  “Already, you have an invitation to an exclusive event. How exciting.”

  But then Geoffrey had to insert himself into the conversation like the boor he was. “You came all the way from Berlin alone? Without a chaperone?”

  Oh hell. What to say to that? But Miss Gohar had a ready answer. Her expression fell, and he believed her eyes actually watered. “I traveled with my grandmother, but the French air did not suit her.” Her expression took on a tragic look. “She is resting with relations in Calais, but she pressed me to continue on. She did not want me to miss my chance, you see.”

  “Of course not,” Diana said. “That was very gallant of her and very brave of you to travel the rest of the way alone.”

  Clearly, Amber had a talent for the boards, but in this case, it was very helpful. Elliott flashed his sister a smile. “Could you help us, please?”

  “You mean find a bedroom in this huge empty house?” She smiled sweetly at Miss Gohar. “It’s just me and my husband, you see, with bedchambers everywhere.” She looked up at her butler. “Simpson, could you see that a room is prepared?”

  The butler bowed. “Right away, my lady.”

  “Why don’t you go with him?” Elliott suggested. “Show Miss Gohar about while I take a moment to speak with Geoffrey.”

  His sister nodded, flashing him a grateful smile. She knew he intended to act as the brother he hadn’t been when she was seventeen. He only hoped it would work.

  Both men waited until the ladies departed. Geoffrey made his way to the brandy and poured himself a large measure. Elliott waited until the man filled his glass and turned around to lean heavily against the sideboard. His expression was flippant, and his smile oily. And that made Elliott’s protective instincts burn.

  “What were you arguing about with my sister?” Elliott asked as he adopted an equally casual pose.

  Geoffrey waved his glass at a heavy candelabra on the desk. “She objected to my pinching the silver.”

  Elliott felt his jaw drop in shock. “You admit to being a thief?”

  “I am nothing of the sort!” Geoffrey exploded. “It is my silver!” He drained the last of his glass. “My brandy, my furnishings, my home! If I require the silver, then I am within my rights to take it.”

  “No, Geoffrey, it’s not,” Elliott said firmly. “It is your father’s until his death and after the will has been read, and not one moment before.”

  “Well, then,” he said as he stepped forward. His face was ruddy with drink, which meant the brandy was not his first glass today. Worse, the menace in him was palpable. “I find myself in arrears with my landlord. If I cannot pay him, then I shall be forced to return to the family home to reside. I will move in here. Immediately.”

  With Diana? And her nearly bed-ridden husband? That was not acceptable. “This home is occupied. I suggest you return to the family seat in Yorkshire.”

  “That moldering old place? Haven’t been there in ages and have no desire to return.” His grin was especially hateful. “So, if you have no wish for me to be in close quarters with my dear step-mama, then perhaps you could see your way to helping me out?”

  The blackguard was larger and older than his step-mama, and there was no telling what he would do if he lived here. The idea was insupportable. But neither could they give in to blackmail. Geoffrey was an endless well of need. If Elliott once gave in to paying his bills, then nothing would stop the demands or the threats.

  “And that candelabra,” Elliott said, gesturing to the heavy thing. “That will cover you?”

  “Heavens, no. I had thought to hit my landlord over the head with it,” he said as if it were a joke, but with Geoffrey, one could never tell.

  Elliott was beginning to see the rationality in letting the man pinch the silver. If the other choice was to have him harassing his sister night and day, then why not let the man have his inheritance early? Except that every bone in his body objected to the very idea. He took that moral outrage and his complete loathing of the man and poured it into his next words.

  “Very well,” he
said softly. “Take the candelabra now and, by all means, kill your landlord with it. I, for one, will relish seeing you hang for murder.”

  Geoffrey grinned and sauntered over to the silver. But Elliott wasn’t done. He crossed the room quickly and set his hand around the heavy piece just before Geoffrey did. And he used his considerable strength to keep it on the desk.

  “Take it now and never come here again.”

  “My father is dying,” Geoffrey said. “I must be here.”

  He was probably thinking of bashing his father over the head. “I don’t care. You will not see my sister, you will not speak to her, and you will not even breathe the same air as her.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I shall beat you with your own silver.” He put on his own oily grin. “I know how to do it and not hang.” That was a lie. He had no idea how, but he knew someone who did, and he would visit Lord Lucifer before the sun rose tomorrow. “Have I made myself clear?”

  Geoffrey didn’t look in the least bit intimidated. Instead, he drained his brandy glass. “If you think to frighten me, old boy, recall that I have more connections in the underworld than you. And if I choose to murder anyone, not a soul would know except me.”

  “I am not your father,” Elliott said firmly. “I do not issue empty threats.”

  “Hmm,” Geoffrey drawled. “And neither of you understand how far a desperate man will go to get what’s his.”

  “It’s not yours.”

  “Yet.”

  If ever a single word sounded like a threat, it was that one. By his own admission, Geoffrey was desperate, and that made him dangerous. Elliott revised his earlier estimate. He would speak with Lord Lucifer within the hour. Meanwhile, he released his hold on the candelabra.

  “Take the silver and be gone. You are not welcome here.”

  Geoffrey grabbed the heavy piece and brandished it aloft. “Good heavens, you sound like that’s supposed to be a revelation. I haven’t been welcomed in my father’s house since I was in leading strings.” Then he moved casually to the door, picking up the ormolu clock on the way. “Your sister, on the other hand,” he said with a leer, “I find her to be most welcome. Most welcome, indeed.”