The Lyon's Lady Love: The Lyon's Den Read online

  He arrived and greeted the longtime Rutherford butler and went up to the drawing room. He kissed his mother’s cheek and then did the same with Amanda.

  “You grow more stunning each time I see you, Sister,” he said smoothly and then shook Stanley’s hand.

  “You are full of hogwash,” she told him. “Tell him, Stanley.”

  “Full of it,” his patient brother-in-law said agreeably.

  His father handed him a drink. “Good to see you, my son.”

  Marcus leaned in. “Father, might we have a private word?”

  “Now? No, no, that won’t do at all,” the earl protested. “Let us enjoy our drinks and dinner and get this ball out of the way. Come tomorrow afternoon and we’ll go to White’s and visit there.”

  Reluctantly, he nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

  After dinner, the ladies freshened up and then it was time to join the receiving line. He enjoyed speaking to everyone who came through it, catching up with old friends who were back in town for the Season. Then he spied two dark-haired beauties. One was Lady Merrick, whom he’d known as Rachel St. Clair, Jeremy and Luke’s sister. The other looked so much like her that Marcus knew they had to be related. He couldn’t think how, though, as he looked at her admiringly.

  Maybe this one would be the one . . .

  Rachel presented the woman to Amanda, who was on Marcus’ left.

  “This is Lady Stanley,” the marchioness said. “My sister, Lady Laurel.”

  Amanda greeted the newcomer warmly, explaining their two families were old friends and promptly inviting Lady Laurel to tea tomorrow. That gave him the perfect opening.

  “I could escort you to my sister’s home,” he said, giving Lady Laurel his most winning smile.

  Amanda laughed and introduced him to the newcomer. Lady Laurel studied Marcus a moment before she spoke. His saw a strong dash of common sense in her eyes. She might be young but she wouldn’t be one who would put up with excess charm.

  “That would be lovely, my lord,” she replied. “However, I will require a chaperone.”

  Teasingly, he asked, “Oh, so you’ve heard I’m a rogue?”

  They bantered on a bit, with Lady Laurel advising him it wasn’t the best way to start up a friendship between them by admitting to being a rogue. Marcus liked the spirit she showed.

  “Might you save the first dance tonight for me?”

  She agreed, remarking it was kind of him to ask her.

  Rachel laughed and pulled this new sister away, telling her, “Aubrey won’t have time to flirt with the rest of the pretty girls coming through the line.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. Rachel had never put up with his nonsense, which was one of the reasons he liked her so much. He couldn’t wait to dance with this new St. Clair and find out exactly how she came to be one. Rachel had called Lady Laurel her sister. Was it an actual blood connection? A distant cousin to whom she felt close as a sister might? The thought intrigued him, as did Lady Laurel.

  Once the last of the guests had been greeted, Marcus went to claim his partner. She accepted his arm and he led her to the center of the ballroom. Once she saw that only his parents and the Stanleys joined them, she stiffened. He hated that he had blindsided her but doubted she would have accepted him as a partner if she knew of the Rutherford tradition.

  “The Rutherford family dances the first measures of the opening song,” he explained. “Have no fear, Lady Laurel. Others will join us soon. After all, it is a ball.” He grinned. “Dancing is expected.”

  Before she could run from the floor, the music began and he swept her into his arms. She was a marvelous dancer and he complimented her on her skill, adding, “I believe you’re talented at a good many things, my lady.”

  They didn’t speak beyond that, letting the music take them away. Marcus had always enjoyed dancing. Anything with movement drew him in. Riding. Boxing. Fencing. Lady Laurel St. Clair made for a wonderful partner. He would see at tea tomorrow if she were a featherbrain. If not, he might have finally met his match.

  He returned her to the Evertons and made plans to pick them up in his carriage in order to go to tea at Amanda’s tomorrow afternoon. He would have to visit with his father earlier in the afternoon. No going to White’s. They would see too many people there and get caught up in conversations. He would corner his father in his study after luncheon, where the earl retreated for hours in order to read. Marcus had gotten his voracious reading habit from his father. No one of his acquaintance seem to devour books as quickly as he did.

  It only took a few hands of cards after supper for him to hear the gossip regarding Laurel St. Clair. He refused to join in it and would never think to spread it. He did learn, though, that she and her twin brother were by-blows of the deceased Duke of Everton. The men at his table thought it bold of the current Everton to foist his illegitimate half-sister on to society. It didn’t surprise Marcus in the least. The three legitimate St. Clair siblings all had different mothers since Everton had wed thrice, making them all half-siblings. Jeremy was a stern but kindhearted man. Learning of two more half-siblings, wrong side of the blanket or not, wouldn’t have troubled him in the least. As a duke, he could introduce Lady Laurel into society and help her make a match with a low-ranking peer. Yes, there would be gossip, some of it vicious, but Everton was a powerful duke. He would see the girl wed. The bastard brother, though, would have a much harder time of it. He wouldn’t be welcomed in the ballrooms of the ton.

  The only thing Marcus had to decide now was if he wanted Laurel St. Clair enough to pursue her.

  The next night, Marcus claimed Lady Laurel for the supper dance, which he’d asked her to reserve for him. She had been a lively conversationalist at tea and being someone who followed his own path instead of that of others, he’d decided that she was worth getting to know better. He wasn’t ready to commit totally to her. He’d still met a few noteworthy debutantes last night but Laurel was the one who intrigued him the most. The Rutherford family name was an old, honored one. Yes, if he decided she were the one who would make him happy, they would face some gossip, but what family didn’t have a few skeletons rattling about?

  Especially if money was involved. Marcus had received a note from his mother that morning, informing him that his father was ill and would have to postpone their meeting this afternoon. Part of him knew his father avoided him on purpose, yet when Lord Rutherford hadn’t appeared at tonight’s ball, Marcus supposed his mother hadn’t been fibbing.

  He turned his attention back to his lovely partner. They moved effortlessly together in time to the music. If he judged a wife on dancing alone, Lady Laurel would definitely be his chosen bride.

  In the middle of the dance, she became prickly, though.

  “Just because there is a longstanding friendship between our two families, please don’t feel obligated to act friendly with me,” she told him.

  That ruffled his feathers. “Are you not pleased to dance with me, my lady?”

  She gave him a look only a St. Clair could master and said, “You are a marvelous dancer and you know it, my lord. I merely am letting you know that you don’t have to pay special attention to me, merely because of the connection you feel with the other St. Clairs.”

  Marcus stopped on the dance floor, ready to challenge her. She begged him to keep dancing so he began moving his feet again, knowing his actions already might have drawn unwanted attention.

  As the music died away, his gaze pinned her and he said, “Let me make one thing clear. I asked you to dance because I wanted to. Not out of any sense of obligation.”

  He wanted that to be perfectly clear. Admittedly, he liked a challenge. Laurel St. Clair was certainly proving to be just that. He took her from the ballroom to where the buffet would be served and led her to a table for two, making it clear he wished to have time alone with her, away from her relatives.

  After he seated her, he took a chair, as well. The buffet line was incredibly long. This way, they could c
onverse in peace and after the line died away, he would fetch them something to eat. He gazed at her, her skin slightly flushed, those emerald St. Clair eyes captivating him.

  Suddenly, the Evertons’ butler appeared, carrying a silver tray.

  “For you, Lord Aubrey.”

  He accepted the folded page atop the tray and opened the note. As he read it, his throat grew thick.

  “I hope you’ll accept my apology, my lady. I must leave immediately.”

  “Is something wrong?” Lady Laurel asked, concern written on her brow.

  “My father has passed away suddenly.”

  Marcus didn’t elaborate. The note, written by his mother, only told him of the earl’s demise and begged him to come to her at once. He rose as if under water, his movements sluggish. He returned Lady Laurel to her family, kissing her hand, his heart full of sorrow for his loss—and regret.

  “I’m afraid I will be in mourning, Lady Laurel. I will not see you for a while. I must find Amanda.”

  Though he was attracted to this captivating St. Clair and ready to settle down after sowing a good many wild oats, Marcus walked away. Even though she was a by-blow, some lucky man would claim Laurel St. Clair.

  It just wouldn’t be him.

  Chapter Two

  Marcus stood at the graveside of his father as the clergyman spoke a final prayer, the smell of the nearby familiar sea bringing him comfort. His mother wasn’t present, having taken to her bed with immense grief. Though his father had been in his mid-fifties, he had seemed to be the picture of health. The doctor had told Marcus and Amanda that it had been a heart attack which had caused the sudden death and that these could come on quickly, without warning. He’d looked guilty when Marcus pressed him, leading Marcus to believe that his father might have had earlier symptoms which his physician had dismissed. Now, it was too late.

  He wondered if he would have said anything differently to his father if he’d known it was the last time they would speak. Marcus wasn’t one to live his life with regrets but he would have liked to have told the earl how much he loved and admired him. How he’d been a good father and husband and how the son would always emulate his father in every way. He lamented that his father would never see any children Marcus and his wife produced. At least the earl had been able to enjoy Amanda’s three children, doting on them as he had his own children.

  The prayer ended and he led the mourners back to Shorecrest, the country seat of the Rutherfords. He and Amanda had an idyllic childhood growing up here, the water only a mile away and Hastings less than five miles. It had been the perfect blend of exploring nature and still having the amenities of a larger town nearby. As he brought those who had come to the funeral back to the house, a fresh wave of sorrow swept through him, knowing he’d never see his father again.

  The cook had prepared sandwiches and other appropriate food for those who gathered after the service. Marcus circulated, trying to speak to everyone who’d come. After two hours, the last of the mourners had left and he fought being swallowed up by his grief. He saw his sister coming down the stairs and went to her.

  “Were you checking on Mother?” he asked.

  “Yes. She’s still asleep. The doctor said the draught was powerful.”

  “How long should she take it? I’m concerned that she’s done nothing but sleep since Father passed.”

  “I spoke with him about that very thing. By tomorrow, she should abstain from it.” Amanda paused, rubbing her temples. “How long do you plan to be here?”

  “I can stay as long as necessary. I doubt she’ll want to return to London anytime soon. With the family in mourning and the Season only begun, staying at Shorecrest would be advisable.”

  His brother-in-law came toward them. “Mr. Afton is in the library. He would like you to come for the reading of the will.”

  “Very well,” Marcus said.

  Anxiety filled him. Though he was well read and had traveled, he worried about getting a grasp on the financial affairs and responsibilities now that he was the Earl of Rutherford. He knew the ins and outs of running the estate because he had been trained to do so by his father and Mr. Banning, Shorecrest’s steward, from the time he was a boy. Once he’d finished university, he’d longed to take a more active role in the estate but his father had told him that his time to do so would come—when he was Rutherford. Until then, he’d urged Marcus to enjoy life.

  “Plenty of time to settle down and be surrounded by the drudgeries of reading estate ledgers,” his father had said.

  He’d done exactly what he’d been told to do. Gone to London and spent most of his time there. Attended the theater and opera. Went to museums and his club. Rode in the park. Fenced and boxed. Accepted nearly every invitation sent his way to events during the Season. And bedded as many willing women as he could.

  Now, though, he would need to step up and become active in the duties of the estate. Take his seat in the House of Lords. He wondered what Afton would share regarding the estate’s finances since Marcus was in the dark. He determined he would spend the next few months learning everything he could about the estate’s management and then when next Season came, he would find his countess and start a family.

  Mr. Afton greeted them as they entered the library. Amanda and Stanley sat together, while Marcus chose a wing chair nearby. The solicitor withdrew a pair of reading spectacles and put them on before shuffling the papers before him.

  “I would like to read Lord Rutherford’s will and then explain the situation to you.”

  “Shouldn’t my mother be here?” he asked. “It does concern her.”

  “I’m sure you will take care of you mother, Lord Rutherford,” Mr. Afton said. “That is what is important. Let Lady Rutherford get the rest she needs.”

  He murmured his assent. His mother, while the kindest woman in the world, was a bit of a featherhead. She wouldn’t have understood the terms of the will anyway. It was as Afton said. Marcus would see to his mother’s well-being.

  The language was bloated, which seemed to be the trademark of anything having to do with the law, but as Afton continued, Marcus grew concerned. He exchanged a glance with Stanley, who looked very worried.

  Afton finished and removed his spectacles, placing them on the desk. He looked up, sadness blanketing him.

  “What you are saying, Mr. Afton, is that the estate is bankrupt, isn’t that correct?” Amanda said, her face worried. “That my brother has next to nothing to inherit, beyond Shorecrest.”

  “Yes, Lady Stanley,” the solicitor said. “You have grasped the situation and expressed it succinctly.”

  “Where did all the money go?” Marcus demanded, the pit of his stomach cold.

  “Lord Rutherford, along with a great many of his peers, invested in a scheme five years ago. Lord Seton assured your father the profit turned would be considerable. Lord Rutherford sank a majority of his available funds into the investment.”

  “And Seton bilked them all.”

  “Yes, my lord. And it took almost a year for the truth to come out.”

  Marcus vaguely remembered the outcry from several years ago. He couldn’t remember the particulars or what the investment entailed. All he recalled was the Earl of Seton had duped a large number of peers. Many had lost their entire fortunes. Seton had fled England and had never been seen or heard from again.

  “What about our unentailed properties? I know we have several. The will never mentioned those. We could sell them and with that cash, dig ourselves out of this mess.”

  Afton shook his head. “That won’t be possible, Lord Rutherford. When your father saw how much money had been lost, he sold them. One at a time.”

  “Where is that money?” Marcus demanded.

  “Gone.” The solicitor looked uncomfortable.

  “How?” His gaze penetrated the man. “I want answers.”

  Afton sighed. “Your father thought he could win back the money through gambling.”

  “Father? Gamble?” Amand
a said. “Impossible.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Lady Stanley. The first unentailed property was sold and Lord Rutherford went straight from the bank to the gaming tables.”

  “He never mentioned gambling,” Amanda protested. “Father wouldn’t throw good money away. No one truly wins at gambling.”

  “He wouldn’t have said he was doing it if he lost,” Marcus said dully. “Obviously, he did.”

  Afton nodded. “Yes, my lord. That’s exactly what happened. Lord Rutherford tried his best to restore the family’s coffers but he rarely met with success. As his losses mounted, he would sell another property, then another. Until nothing was left. All that remains is Shorecrest, which cannot be touched, and the London townhouse, which is heavily mortgaged.”

  “We’ll need to sell it at once,” he said. “And everything in it. Furniture. China. Paintings. That should fend off some of the vultures who’ll come around wanting their due.” The bile rose in his throat. “Can you see to that, Afton?”

  “I can, my lord.” He paused. “I’m afraid to inform you that there are still markers out at various gaming hells which will need to be paid.”

  “What?”

  “Lord Rutherford was gambling the afternoon of his death,” the solicitor said. “Part of me thinks the heavy burden of debt is what killed him.” He rose. “I’ll travel back to London immediately and get started on liquidating the assets within the townhouse.”

  “I’ll see you out, Mr. Afton,” Amanda said and left the room. Her husband trailed after her, no doubt unwilling to remain in Marcus’ presence after receiving such dreadful news.

  He sat in a stupor. The man he had admired and respected, the indulgent father he’d worshipped, had not been the man Marcus knew. Rutherford had portrayed himself as wise, astute with money, caring to his family. This man Afton spoke of was a stranger.