Lyon's Prey: The Lyon's Den Read online

  “You know of such a man? I have no words. My mother will be overjoyed to have some sliver of hope that Matthew could be found alive. She has not been herself since Father’s illness took him. Jason needs Mama.”

  How could he not help? The woman had mesmerized him, first chastising him fiercely, then proving to be the sister of his old friend. He would contact some of the others from their group and see who they knew of influence in the British Army.

  “Then we shall provide her hope. Matt was a friend of mine. He would want his friends to help his family. I am afraid he lost touch with us not too long after school.” He spoke but could not take his eyes off her. Her red hair was unlike most—a shade of burnished red with threads of honeyed blonde running through it. She was a remarkable beauty. Within a quarter of an hour, her face had moved from a look of total disgust to the most expansive and engaging smile he could remember. Evan wanted to know more about her, but first he needed to find her brother.

  “Please do not take this the wrong way, but do you feel your brother is gone?” He watched Lady Charlotte Grisham closely as he asked. He believed that people possessed a certain level of sensitivity when it came to people they loved. What a strange twist this conversation had taken. He was actually relieved.

  “My lord, you confuse me.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Actually,” she said after a moment passed, “I do not believe my brother is dead. I think he is lost. I cannot shake the feeling that something has happened and he cannot find his way to us. But it is a curious question you ask. I believe my father felt the same way. He did not accept the loss. It was only after he died that my brother’s title was conveyed. My uncle insisted.”

  “Your uncle?”

  “Yes, Baron Langdale. He is my mother’s brother. He petitioned to become my brother’s guardian. Of course, my mother controls his daily activities, but her brother is now handling the financial affairs for the family.” She glanced to the floor before looking back at him.

  Evan discerned discomfort when she spoke of her uncle. Something felt amiss about this business, yet he was limited in his ability to do anything about it. “I know of the man.” He held her gaze. “With your permission, I will find out what I can about your brother. Of course, if your brother is alive, I will do my best to return him, and you and your mother will no longer need the services of your uncle.”

  “Lord Clarendon, thank you. I do not know how this came to pass. I fear you have turned the tables on me. I stormed in here this morning to give you a piece of my mind, casting good sense to the wind. Yet I find myself encouraged with my anger stripped bare. And I feel we have both gained from our meeting.”

  “May I see you home? I did not notice a carriage outside.”

  “That is not necessary, my lord. I only live a few blocks from here . . .”

  “My carriage is already waiting at the front door. If you will not allow me to accompany you, please allow my driver to take you home.”

  She drew in a breath. “That might be better. As you pointed out, I did not bring my maid. It is but a few blocks, but the weather does threaten a chilling rain.” She caught his gaze. “Thank you.”

  Ten minutes later, Evan stood on the veranda and watched his carriage pull away with a most perplexing guest.

  What just happened? Lady Charlotte adjusted herself, pushing back into the squabs of the seat of Lord Clarendon’s carriage. She tried to calm herself and account for the last hour. For a man reported to drink all the time, Lord Clarendon had his wits about him. Today, at least. I suppose there is a chance that I have it wrong.

  She gave a wry laugh. Charlotte would have much to answer for if her mother saw her arrive in this carriage. Walking would have been better, except it was so cold outside. She took her gloved hand and rubbed the frost from the window, noticing for the first time that a layer of ice still covered many trees. When she had walked to the earl’s townhouse earlier that morning, she was still angry over what had almost happened to her younger brother.

  Lord Clarendon had seemed genuinely remorseful for his behavior, which had surprised her. Charlotte had been aware of the death of his wife in childbirth, but until today, she had not paid enough attention to the rumors about his son. She noticed the boy leaving with the nanny and Lord Clarendon’s sister and her husband. The young lord was adorable. She grinned. He reminded her of her own little brother, Jason—the one the earl’s carriage had almost run over yesterday. “Somehow, he turned the tables on me,” Charlotte muttered. Jason was all she and Mama had now, and she would do anything to protect her baby brother. She should be frustrated but felt unusually charmed and hopeful.

  Any chance of finding Matthew had seemed to have died with Papa. But now Lord Clarendon planned to help find her older brother, something that could not only heal her heart, but rid her family of her uncle’s helping hand.

  The carriage slowed to turn onto her street, and Charlotte smelled fresh pastries and other delightful smells coming from the corner bakery. Her family house was near. Inhaling deeply, she tried to still the racing of her heart. If she could just make it past the parlor where her mother normally sat watching the window . . .

  Chapter Three

  Evan could not remember when a dressing down had last been so alluring, allowing for the fact that he had been made aware of his poor behavior twice that day. That had to change. He knew that and still found himself craving a drink. Hearing a horse pounding up the drive, he looked past the carriage. Good God! Surely not another onslaught. He squinted. It was his best friend, Lord Christopher Anglesey, Earl of Banbury. His timing was impeccable. Thank goodness! Evan craved a drink, and he would need Banbury if they were to have a chance at finding Matt. He pulled on the cord, and a footman appeared.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Ah yes. Stanton. Would you have Cook supply a tray of sandwiches, meats, and cheeses to my study? It seems I have another guest. And two clean glasses, please. One more thing,” he added as the footman turned to leave. “Please have Bernard show my guest to the study. And have some hot tea brought in—with peppermint. My stomach feels a bit displaced.”

  “Right away, my lord.” The tall blond footman left quickly.

  Maybe Banbury can help make sense of my morning. Lady Charlotte mentioned someone helped her yesterday. His faith that the day could be salvaged suddenly renewed, he hurried toward his study. Voices in the anteroom behind him caused Evan to turn, and he saw his friend had arrived.

  “Banbury, you are a sight for tired eyes this morning!” Evan walked toward his friend, extending his hand.

  “Good to see you as well,” Banbury smiled and clapped Evan on the back.

  “Come in.” Evan held open the door to his study. “I have already ordered luncheon.”

  “Wonderful. I am famished. By the way, who was that leaving in your coach?” Banbury turned around for emphasis and pointed toward the door. “I saw it and thought to have missed you. I was prepared to leave a message with Bernard.”

  “That is part of what I need to speak with you about. Ah, Stanton has arrived with our food. Come, let us take some refreshment.”

  The footman replaced the earlier tea tray with a fresh tray plated with meats, cheeses, and small finger sandwiches. “Can I be of any further service, my lord?”

  “No, thank you, Stanton.” Evan handed Banbury a plate, nodding at the food. “If you do not mind, there is something I would like to discuss.”

  “You have tea on that tray. Is there something you would like to tell me?” Banbury rose and gave a mock feel of his friend’s head. “No fever.”

  Evan pushed his hand away. “All right, already! I have realized that I have allowed my depressed mood to debase my entire being and I am trying . . . to get hold, regain who I need to be.” He grew quiet for a moment before pouring Banbury a cup of tea. “I hope you do not mind the peppermint. I have a bit of dyspepsia from yesterday’s activities.”

  “I enjoy peppermint tea as well, but not for the same reason,
I fear.” Banbury snorted a laugh. “You outdid yourself yesterday, my good friend. We have much to discuss.”

  A frisson of cold traveled down his back. He had almost killed a young lad, wanted to fire his valet because the good man had done his job—more than his job—and he had neglected a son that he had not even taken the time to know. Not to mention a woman had bested him in an argument that morning. No, it is already afternoon. Christ, when did he start getting up at lunchtime? “I am aware that my behavior has been a bit off, but I endeavor to work on that.”

  Banbury nearly choked on his tea, spewing it all over himself. “Off, you call it?” His voice was incredulous. “Evan, I think my friend from a year ago would call it ‘dipping rather deep.’”

  “Yes, well, I am duly chastised. I want to be my old self.” He quieted. “I just do not know how. Perhaps drinking tea instead of my customary brandy will help, but I confess, I would prefer the brandy.”

  “I understand.” Banbury nodded. “Perhaps we should start with what you were wanting to talk to me about.”

  “It has to do with a woman.” Evan glanced at Banbury, who had raised a brow. “Nothing like that,” he quickly added. Although she is a pretty sort, he thought and immediately succumbed to guilt. “Do you know of a Lady Charlotte Grisham?”

  “The Earl of Romney’s daughter?” Banbury sat up. “She is a beautiful woman, but she is an innocent.” His voice raised. “You surely have not ruined her, Evan?” His voice was filled with disgust.

  “Good heavens, no! I have become a drunk, not a debaucher of innocents!” He deserved Banbury’s scolding, he supposed. But coming from his best friend, who knew him better than anyone in the world, hurt. “I need to help her, and no,” he emphasized. “I only met her this morning.”

  “I think you met her yesterday,” Banbury corrected. “Your . . . er . . . meeting is part of what brings me here today.”

  “So it is true.” He sank down in his chair and put his face in his hands. “I nearly killed her brother with my carriage, and I do not recall a thing.”

  “You did. I was not far behind you. We had been playing cards here, and you decided you needed a drink, and nothing would do but a trip to the Den. I was unable to dissuade you from going, so I spoke with Charles, asking him to return later with the carriage and collect you so you would not amble about the streets, as you have before.”

  “You told her my name?

  “Me? No, of course not. But you were recognized by another, and I believe he blurted out your name in a string of curses. I stopped to make sure no one had been injured. God’s teeth, man! The woman launched herself in front of your carriage to save her young brother. Both were injured, but miraculously, not seriously. And your carriage never slowed.”

  Evan grew quiet. It was all true, and the worst kind of truth. I feel like a monster. “I intend to speak with my driver, realizing that I too bear responsibility.” He picked up his teacup, then set it back down without taking a sip. “I may as well ask my favor. It has to do with Lady Charlotte. Remember Longueville?”

  “Yes, of course. It has been a while, but we had some great times with Matt. I did not make the connection when you first mentioned her name. He is in service now—the army, I believe.”

  “He is missing and has been for about a year, since the Battle of New Orleans. It was the last time anyone heard from him. According to Lady Charlotte, Matthew was also declared dead when the earl recently passed, prompted by her uncle. Her mother’s brother has become the guardian and is in control of the finances. Do you know of Baron Langdale?”

  There was a long moment of silence before Banbury finally spoke. “Yes, I know him.” He exhaled with exaggeration. “That is not a good arrangement. As you know, he owes nearly everyone in town. How was it he was made guardian? Did no responsible party look into his affairs? Matt would want us to help. What can I do?”

  “According to the lady, her uncle insisted on her brother being named the heir, and I think we both know why that happened. He still has friends in high places, unless he owes them too.” He laughed sarcastically. “It may be easier to find Matt than to rid the family of the uncle’s guardianship. But we should try both. Perhaps you can ask Sinclair? I believe he would be willing to do it, but more so if the request came from you. I do not know him as well, but I know he located two other men for their families when they had been declared missing. He is like a bloodhound.”

  “I will ask. Baron Langdale is known to raise a breeze or two for his own benefit. Her father was quite wealthy and made some shrewd investments, and this is quite a coup for him. The baron would not think twice about hanging on the sleeves of his nephew under the guise of guardianship.”

  “I will cover all expenses,” Evan added.

  “You know, it would be easier if she were married . . .” Banbury leaned back and grinned.

  “Stop.” Evan’s tone was sharp. “I am sorry. I know you mean well, yet I urge you to quit this line of conversation. I am not ready to marry again.” Nevertheless, he wondered. Perhaps obtaining a wife would help with a son. It could be a wise thing to do.

  No. He could not lose another wife in childbirth. He would not.

  “I may never be able to marry again. To lose . . .” His voice dropped off.

  “I understand, Clarendon. I will help on both fronts. Has anyone tried to find her brother before this?” Banbury stood and walked to the window.

  “According to Lady Charlotte, her father told her he had engaged someone to look for her brother, but she has no idea whom, and they never received any word on it.”

  “Romney and I use the same solicitor. Let me speak with Franklin and see what he knows. If Romney hired someone, it was probably through him.” There was a moment of silence. “The Widow wishes to see you,” Banbury inserted.

  “Excuse me? What widow are we talking about?” Evan questioned, confused and frustrated.

  “The Lyon’s Den . . . the Black Widow has requested your presence.”

  He laughed. “You have to be bamboozling me! Too many people are requesting my presence today. My sister and brother-in-law have given me until Friday to take over the care of my son, and Lady Charlotte would not leave until she had an audience with me. And you, you are bringing the message from the Widow?” He eyed his friend with curiosity.

  “I promise. ’Tis true. That is one reason I am here. Mrs. Dove-Lyon has asked to see you. For reasons only she can address, she sent word to me. One of her managers, a man named Luke Cross—he goes by the name Titan—witnessed your near accident yesterday. He recognized you, and now she wants to see you.”

  Evan had only ever seen the woman wearing black and veils. No one knew what her face looked like. Word was she kept a very close watch on her business. “Do you find it unusual that she has asked to see me?”

  “I do. I should add, she has asked to see you soon.”

  Evan’s resolve to leave off the brandy ended, and he grabbed two clean glasses from the cabinet in the corner of his office. Pouring a measure of refreshment into each, he handed one to his friend and took a long drink from his own.

  “Do you think you should start that today?” Banbury ventured.

  “Do not judge me,” Evan snapped. “I know that I have been on the cut and spent more time in my cups this year than out of them. Nevertheless, I do not plan to become foxed. I still have a measure of control. And I do intend to enjoy a fortifying glass.” He took a slow sip while his body demanded more. Whilst he had only been a member for a year, he had heard no good ever came from having to see the Widow.

  Chapter Four

  “That was the Earl of Clarendon’s carriage that just pulled away. I recognize the emblem on the front. Why is he dropping you off? Unchaperoned, no less!” Charlotte’s mother hissed as she pulled her head from the window and looked at her daughter. “What were you up to, Charlotte?” she asked, arms crossed.

  Mama spent all day, every day in this room. Charlotte stared at the pink room, looking
for something on which to focus her attention. Her mother had insisted that the pink color in the room made the small room look larger than when it had been green. She had added a little yellow with the small pink and yellow floral drapes, but everything else was pink—walls, upholstery, carpet. For Charlotte’s tastes, it was not comfortable enough to spend all day there. She consistently failed to interest Mama in any outing, picnic—anything.

  Charlotte nibbled her lower lip, unsure of how much to say to her mother. “It was the Clarendon carriage. I had been to see him.” She reminded herself that she wanted to look at her brother’s letters. She was most curious about the man now that she had met him.

  “Why did you go by yourself?” Her mother fairly shrieked the words before lowering her voice. “Beyond the fact that you could be ruined without a chaperone, you know his reputation of late. And your uncle—”

  “Uncle does not have to know, Mama,” Charlotte insisted. “Please let us keep this between the two of us.”