The Scandalous Lyon: The Lyon's Den

by Maggi Andersen

  “So, you expect me to beg for the duke’s approval as well, do you?”

  Surer of him now, she gave a cheeky grin. “No, but I am hopeful.”

  For a moment, she feared she’d gone too far. But he smiled. “By Jove, Miss, you’ll do.” He took her arm and gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Don’t expect to get ’round me with your feminine wiles. Many women have tried before you. I intend to put your suitor through a rigorous interview before I make up my mind about this marriage.”

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Kelly, a small, red-haired woman, entered and curtsied before the baron. Given her instructions, she escorted Beverly up the staircase to an opulent bedchamber furnished in teal and gold damask.

  “I’ve ordered hot water to be brought, Miss Crabtree. I’ll send a maid to assist you to dress for dinner.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “Please ring the bell beside the fireplace if you require anything else.”

  When the door shut behind her, Beverly stood on the Axminster carpet and gazed appreciatively at the grand chamber, relieved at not having to share it with Miss George.

  She crossed the thick carpet to the window and looked down at the well-tended gardens. Beyond them was the stone wall that divided the formal gardens with the south meadow. A fall from it had caused that scar on Mama’s knee. Jason and Miss George appeared walking together along a path leading to the house. As always, the sight of him made Beverly’s pulse quicken. She raised a hand, but he was talking to her chaperone and didn’t look up.

  She’d become more confident that Grandpapa would assist in their marriage. He seemed all-powerful. It saddened her to know how much her father had retreated from the man he used to be before the unthinkable happened. That he should have his honor placed in question and be unable to refute it was greatly distressing to him.

  But perhaps now, with her grandfather’s help, everything would be as it was. And she and Jason would marry!

  With a sigh of delight, she spun around and fell back onto the wide, poster bed. Gazing at the swag of sumptuous brocade above, she thought of how much she loved Jason and how wonderful it had been when he’d kissed her.

  If only this distressing business which hung over her father’s head would end, everyone would be so happy. She plucked at the tassel on a cushion, her mood sobering. Despite discovering her cantankerous grandpapa was not without a kind heart, trepidation made her heart pound when she considered what still might go wrong.

  ***

  Lord Daintith glared at Jason. “You tell me you don’t have a feather to fly with, and you expect me to welcome you into the family with open arms?”

  Seated on the maroon leather sofa in the well-equipped library, Jason swirled the amber liquid in his brandy glass. “But with excellent prospects, sir.”

  The baron drew on his cigar, then blew out a cloud. “I would prefer Beverly to marry a title. But as her mother defied me and married beneath her, I suppose that is a stretch too far. Your brother is in good health?”

  “Excellent health, sir.” Jason frowned. Surely the man wasn’t querying if he might one day inherit the dukedom? “Charles is soon to marry and intends to set up his nursery.”

  “No need to climb on your high horse,” the baron said mildly. “I merely wished to know how things stood between you and your brother. I can see you’re fond of him. So, tell me more about this trust.”

  When Jason had supplied him with the details of properties and entitlements, Lord Daintith nodded thoughtfully. “I shall furnish Beverly with a handsome dowry. I am unaware of her father’s intentions, but I would like him to match it. I’m not hopeful, however. I suspect Crabtree’s pockets are not deep.”

  “That is most generous of you, sir.” Jason’s relief was palpable.

  No furtive dashes to the border, and now, surely, Charles would not oppose the marriage. There was one matter which twisted Jason’s gut every time he thought of it. Would the disgrace heaped on him after his expulsion from Oxford reach the baron’s ears? The man wouldn’t like it. If it had been his daughter, Jason wouldn’t like it either, for it showed his character in a very poor light. He had tried to explain the seriousness of it to Beverly, to warn her, but even after hearing it, she’d dismissed it as unimportant.

  He couldn’t help delighting in the fact that she believed in him. That it never occurred to her he might not be telling the truth or had tied the business up in a rosy package. And there was something he failed to mention. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he had been doing on the night the boat was tampered with. Still a little ashamed at his part in it, he groaned inwardly. Dare he hope Charles had managed to bring about a miracle?

  “I’ve written to my lawyers,” the baron said, drawing him back. “We’ll see if something might be done for Crabtree.” He swilled a mouthful of brandy before swallowing it. “No reason why you and my granddaughter cannot tie the knot here in Deane Abbey chapel.”

  “We would be honored, sir.” Jason shoved his uneasy thoughts away. “But Beverly will want her parents to come.”

  Daintith nodded. “Naturally. I’m sure they will attend.”

  Jason was inclined to agree. Although he doubted the baron’s invitation would be couched in terms of a reconciliation, he suspected the Crabtrees were unlikely to oppose such an advantageous arrangement.

  It must have been a terrible blow to a man like Daintith when his daughter defied him and ran off. And Crabtree, a mere solicitor, who hailed from the gentry. Beverly’s grandfather seemed unlikely to forgive past hurts. Was he being amenable now because he was lonely and regretted the loss of his family? Or did he relish the opportunity to rub Crabtree’s nose in what he considered the man’s incompetence? He might even have lingering doubts as to his son-in-law’s honesty. Jason didn’t much care what his reason was, as long as the outcome was successful, and he and Beverly could marry.

  He shook Daintith’s strong hand and quit the room, grasping his approval like a rope thrown to a sailor in the sea surrounded by sharks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There were four to dinner. Miss George had been invited, but the lady they had seen with her grandfather when they first arrived did not attend. After an elaborate array of courses, consisting of fresh trout, venison, baked chicken, and fresh vegetables from the estate, served in delicious sauces, the two footmen removed the covers and served a syllabub, cheese, fruit, and a plate of nuts.

  A lively discussion took place on the benefits of gas lamps now lighting the streets in St. Margaret’s Westminster and how London would look in December when more areas would be lit. As they employed the nutcracker to the walnuts, Jason and her grandfather argued about what horse would win the Thousand Guineas Stakes at Newmarket. Beverly was always amused at how heated these discussions became. She remembered her father and brother in happier times.

  No agreement had been reached as Miss George and Beverly left the men to their port and cigars. But they did not tarry long. Jason and her grandfather chuckling over some antidote, and apparently on good terms, soon joined them in the salon where a card table had been set up.

  The cards were dealt as the footman, John, served brandy and Madeira, then with a bow, left the room. Her grandfather played cards with the same intensity with which he seemed to do everything. He won the final rubber, tossed back the last of his brandy, and went to the sideboard for the decanter. “Care for a game of billiards?” he asked Jason as he replenished their glasses.

  “Most agreeable, thank you, sir.” Jason’s gaze found Beverly’s. They would have little opportunity to be alone tonight.

  The card table was removed, and the silver tea service brought in. “You may pour, my dear,” her grandfather said from his chair opposite the sofa. “A ride before breakfast?”

  “I didn’t bring riding clothes, Grandpapa.” Beverly opened the tea caddie and spooned the leaves into the warmed teapot. She added hot water. “We must leave for London quite early. Mama could have return
ed from Horsham, and I don’t want her to worry.”

  “Ah. Shame. The bridle trails here are excellent, and I did want to show you more of the estate. Next time then.”

  “I look forward to it,” Beverly said ruefully.

  She would enjoy it. She had slipped into the gallery before coming down to dinner and viewed the oil paintings of her ancestors. There were a few men and women from the past who had brown eyes similar to hers and Grandpapa’s, and it made her feel more a part of the Daintiths. It also made her aware of the importance of family and what she had been missing.

  When the dishes were removed, the men left the room to play billiards. Beverly was tired, but she didn’t want to retire just yet. She’d visited the library and discovered a riveting book of drawings and surreptitiously studied each page, glad of its plain cover.

  Miss George, seated in an armchair, employed her needle to her sampler with deft stitches. She’d said little since they’d come to the abbey and was silent during dinner. Perhaps she felt awkward about the difference in their social standing, but Beverly couldn’t quite believe it. Miss George seemed indomitable.

  She was startled and quickly closed the book when her chaperone suddenly addressed her. “It has been a pleasant journey, and I am pleased for you and Lord Jason if something comes of it.” She snipped a thread with her scissors. “But I confess, I am eager to return to London.”

  “Because of Mr. Perlew?” Beverly ventured. She tucked the book under a cushion while pushing away visions of naked men and women cavorting in extraordinary poses.

  “No. I don’t imagine he’s given me another thought. I must seek new employment.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Beverly suffered a stab of guilt. Her thoughts had been filled with her own concerns. Poor Miss George, her future did look uncertain. Beverly hoped there might be something she could do to help her, but until she was married, she was powerless.

  A half-hour later, Jason entered the room. “Would you ladies care for a stroll on the terrace before you retire? The wind has died down, and it’s pleasant out.”

  “What a nice idea.” Beverly rose as her fatigue fell away.

  Jason took up her Norwich shawl and arranged it over her shoulders. “Miss George?”

  “I believe I shall retire,” she said unexpectedly as she put away her embroidery. “It’s been a long day, and I’m a little tired.”

  “My goodness,” Beverly said to Jason when they stepped out into the fragrant night air. “I do hope Miss George is not too exhausted.”

  “That was most unlike her.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “But I am not about to complain.”

  She turned within his arm to gaze up into his face. In the moonlight, his eyes were warm and inviting. “Still, we must be discreet.”

  He sighed. “To please your chaperone?”

  “She has placed her trust in us.”

  “Clever, Miss George,” Jason said wryly. He dropped his arm and moved to the banister rail.

  She joined him and stood observing the flickering shadows cast over the gardens by the braziers.

  He leaned his back against the rail, glancing up at the windows above them. “I imagine I have little hope of a goodnight kiss then. Your zealous chaperone is probably looking down at us at this moment.”

  Beverly giggled. “Then, it is an excellent opportunity to talk. We shan’t be able to on the way back to London. There is so much I want to know about your family.”

  “Mm. Where shall I begin?”

  “I would like to hear about your mother and your childhood, but first, tell me about your brother. I know he’s an honorable man because Miss George told me so.”

  “How did she come to know that?”

  “She read about him in the Morning Post.”

  “Ah.”

  Charles was of a similar height to Jason but of a bigger stature. “I thought your brother strong and athletic when I saw him at the Lyon’s Den.”

  Jason nodded. “We rode with the Quorn in Leicestershire when we were younger. The hunting is pretty wild there, and you throw your heart over the fences. But Charles is keen on many sports—racing, fencing, sparing at Jackson’s boxing salon…”

  She smiled. “You are fond of him.”

  “Yes, we were always close.” He rubbed his jaw. “Charles hasn’t been quite himself for a while. I guess my older brother Michael’s death left a large hole in our hearts, and then father dying a year ago. Perhaps this summer after Charles returns to Shewsbury Park, he’ll feel more comfortable. He takes a great interest in the running of the estate. And the sheep.”

  “Sheep?”

  “It’s sheep country.” Jason grinned. “Charles is to marry later this year. I imagine that will bring about change. You’ll like him.”

  “Will he like me?”

  He took her in his arms and held her close, nuzzling her neck. “Of course, he will,” he murmured, his warm breath on her skin, making her tremble. “What’s not to like?”

  With a glance at the lighted room behind him, she quickly kissed him, then stepped out of his arms, fighting the impulse to remain. “Shall I meet your mother when in London?”

  “I’m not sure. My mother seldom comes to London since Father died. She is much involved in the parish and county affairs. She plans to move into the dower house at Shewsbury Park when Charles brings his bride home.”

  “She sounds...formidable.”

  “Mother?” He smiled. “She is a determined lady, but never unkind.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.”

  He stroked her arms. “Of course, my mother will attend our wedding. I know she will come to love you.”

  While she wasn’t confident, she did hope his family would like her. Nothing Jason had told her allayed her fears, however. If her father should go to prison... A chill crept down her spine.

  “You’re trembling, my sweet,” Jason drew her back into his arms. “Are you cold?”

  At a cough, they broke apart.

  Her grandfather stood in the doorway, the smoke from a cigar in his long fingers drifting out into the night. “Time for you two lovebirds to retire to your separate chambers.”

  “Yes, it grows late.” Jason tucked Beverly’s arm into the crook of his and led her inside. “A long journey awaits us tomorrow.”

  “Quite.” Her grandfather’s eyes twinkled as she passed him.

  ***

  The next day dawned fine, although a looming, dark cloud bank threatened on the horizon. Jason accompanied the chaise on Centaur, the horse fresh and eager for a run. The rain held off, and the roads were excellent. They made good time. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, he rode on ahead to secure luncheon at the coaching inn.

  Some hours later, they approached the inn where Charles’s horses were stabled.

  Drops of rain struck his hat. He glanced uneasily at the sky as he dismounted in the inn yard.

  While he waited for the innkeeper to finish dealing with another couple, Jason’s thoughts returned to their departure. Lord Daintith had offered him some last-minute advice. “When you meet Crabtree, might be prudent not to mention you’d sought my help in his affairs,” he’d said, standing in the carriageway as they waited for the ladies to come down. “A proud man, he won’t appreciate my interference, and I doubt he’d welcome a family reunion after all this time. I have advised my lawyers to be discreet.” He gave a wry smile. “Not everything to do with this family rift can be laid at my door.” He sighed. “But I must admit, I have been wrong on occasion.”

  Jason hoped he didn’t look too surprised at Daintith’s confession. He offered his hand. “I appreciate the advice.”

  The baron seized his hand in a firm grip and shook it. “Just smoothing the way, Glazebrook. I merely want to see my investment come to fruition.”

  As Jason followed the chaise down the carriageway, he’d glanced back. The baron still stood on the drive. The pretty lady who had not been sighted again during their stay appeared at the door.

>   The baron might flout some of society’s rules, Jason thought, but he would value a gentleman’s code of honor. Daintith would certainly withdraw his support if he learned of that shameful business at Oxford.

  It approached dusk when they finally reached the outskirts of London the next day and pulled up in Half Moon Street.

  As he helped the ladies alight, the door opened, and lamplight shone out. A maid hurried onto the porch.

  Jason paid the postboys, who were unloading and piling the luggage in the hall. Miss George said goodbye to him and disappeared up the stairs.

  After Beverly spoke to the maid, she hurried back down the path to where he held Centaur’s rein. “My mother has returned, but she is resting. I must go to her.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow, my love.” Jason settled his hat on his head and swung up into the saddle.

  “Tomorrow,” Beverly called.

  He watched her enter the house and then gently nudged his tired horse’s flanks. As he rode home, Jason steeled himself for what lay ahead. Would Charles have good news for him? Never had it been so important. Not only his reputation but his future happiness hinged on it. It went against his sense of honor to withhold his past from the baron, but whatever way he painted the affair, he wouldn’t come out smelling like a rose. However, he fully intended to reveal it before he and Beverly were wed, whatever news Charles had for him.

  After stabling his horse and giving unnecessary instructions to the zealous groom, Jason patted Centaur’s rump and left, making his way to the house. The butler informed him that the duke planned to attend the Montgomerys’ ball later in the evening. He’d left word he wished to see Jason in the library as soon as he came in.

  Jason resisted the inclination to rush in. “Tell my brother I’ll join him as soon as I’ve washed and changed, Grove. And ask the kitchen staff to rustle up a meal for me. A cold collation will do.”