Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Six

B roadbank followed his brother to the rear door of The Lyon’s Den nodding to the wolf stationed there.

Edmund greeted the man, “Snug.”

The man acknowledged their presence with a brief nod.

“Have you got a bit of rum left in your flask?”

“I thought you said you knew where they hid a secret stash of rum,” Broadbank chided.

His brother chuckled, and Snug grinned. “Told your brother I always keep a flask at the ready.”

“Do you?” Broadbank asked, taking the man’s measure. “Former military?” he asked.

“Aye, in His Majesty’s Service for over a decade. Was wounded…had to muster out.”

“I’ve been knocked on the head more than a few times with bits of falling timber—”

“Good God, Colin!” his brother interrupted. “Is that what you call the main mast and yardarms? You would have had to have been hit on the brainbox harder than we thought if you called those bloody huge pieces of your ship timbers. ”

Snug’s raspy laughter surrounded them before the man cleared his throat to reply, “I’ve heard it called such as well, Broadbank. Pleasure to meet you, I’m known as Snug working for Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”

“A good friend of mine, Captain Gordon Coventry, had to retire from the King’s Service as well when he was severely injured during Trafalgar . He’s been working for the Duke of Wyndmere for the last few years as his man of affairs.”

“I know the name, and heard some scuttlebutt that Coventry’s started up a business of his own,” Snug rumbled, handing the flask to Broadbank.

“Aye,” Broadbank agreed. “Wouldn’t hire me on.” He tried not to let his frustration show.

“You never told me why he turned you down, Colin.”

Broadbank shrugged, lifted the proffered flask to his lips and took a healthy swallow.

Snug offered, “Heard he’s hiring on men such as myself.”

“Men with military backgrounds?” Broadbank’s brother asked.

“Military men injured in battle,” Broadbank and Snug said at the same time. Their eyes met and understanding flowed through them.

Broadbank handed the flask back. “Thank you for the rum. I needed to wash away the taste of brandy.”

“Foul stuff,” Snug agreed.

Broadbank held out his hand, “Thank you for your service, Snug.”

Snug took his hand and shook it. “It’s an honor.”

“Tell me,” Broadbank said, “if you hadn’t hired on with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, what would you have done?”

Snug tucked the flask in his waistcoat pocket and sighed. “Since begging for my daily bread didn’t suit me, I’d have shoveled shite , done whatever I could, to earn the coin to keep from starving.”

“’Tis a sad state of affairs when injured military men are faced with little or no choice when they’re sent home to recover from wounds received in the name of the king.” Broadbank shook his head. “Coventry has hired on a handful of men—friends who’ve served in the Royal Navy, the King’s Dragoons, the Royal Marines, and the Fighting Fifth Regiment of Foot.”

“Knowing Coventry,” Edmund added, “he’ll make it work. The man’s turned more than his own life around after returning injured from battle.”

“Are you leaving already,” Snug asked the captain.

“No. I intend to win the hand of a certain lady tonight. I’ve already considered all of my options.”

“My brother wouldn’t be staying if the young lady in question was not worth a second look.”

“I hope she’s a hellion. A missish empty-headed lass won’t do for you, Captain,” Snug replied.

Edmund snorted with laughter, while Broadbank ignored him. “Miss Atherton may be a bit of a hoyden but she is definitely a diamond of the first water and a lady through and through.”

“Ladies don’t seek out the Black Widow of Whitehall without reason,” Snug reminded the captain.

Broadbank sighed. “I intend to find out how she came to be here—she’s not a hellion, by my standards.” He rested his hand on the handle of the pistol he’d tucked in his waistband.

Snug’s eyes narrowed as he reached for his own weapon.

Broadbank took a step back and raised his hands. “I’m not after drawing on you. It belongs to Miss Atherton.”

Edmund laughed out loud. “And she’s not a hellion?”

Snug’s smile reached his eyes this time. “I’d like to meet this young woman of yours, Captain.”

Broadbank grinned. “And so you shall, Snug. As soon as I manage to win another wager or two…not exactly sure how many I’m expected to win.”

Snug met his gaze. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon has the final say. It depends on the circumstances, those involved in the wagers,” he paused as if considering his words carefully before adding, “and which way the wind blows.”

Edmund held out his hand. “Thank you again for supplying the rum. My brother would have expired without it.”

“Without question,” Broadbank added. “Thank you.”

Snug nodded. “My pleasure.”

Walking back toward the main gambling room, Edmund mused, “I’m wondering if there is a way for you to circumvent the list of rules our hostess has invented to hurry things along.”

“If it wasn’t for the need to satisfy Father’s demand to marry and taking the reins into my own hands by choosing my bride, I would not be here.”

“Neither one of us was prepared for what happened, Colin.”

Regret filled Broadbank as he walked. “Do you think the actress is telling the truth? She seemed to appear out of the woodwork after Adam’s death.”

Edmund sighed aloud. “What else can we believe until her story has been corroborated.”

Broadbank grumbled. “I was on board my ship at the time. ’Tis the life I’ve chosen to lead in the King’s Royal Navy, captaining a first-rate ship of the line. Not spouting off in the House of Lords to a group of my peers who could not care less what conditions exist either on board ship, or among the ranks of those serving His Majesty.”

Edmund grabbed hold of his brother’s arm. “Adam cared and was respected by his peers.”

“He bloody well wasn’t married as I’ve been ordered by our father to do.”

“It’s been hard on us all, Colin. Especially Father—he confided that had Adam married one of the debutantes he approved of, he would have provided an heir long before now. Father would not have had to call you home. He could have stepped in and raised his grandson to take on the viscountcy.”

Broadbank met his brother’s gaze, holding it for long moments before responding. “I cannot think that would have been an easy upbringing. If I recall, it wasn’t easy on our brother.”

“The woman’s words seem to ring of the truth,” Edmund rumbled. “Mayhap our father’s demand that you marry is to protect you—and the viscountcy.”

Broadbank nodded. “If I’m already married, I cannot be blackmailed into marrying her with the questionable claim that Adam is her child’s father.”

“Mayhap if she brings her son to meet us, we will note a familial resemblance.”

“Don’t babes change in appearance as they grow? Father often said that I resembled mother as an infant, while now, I resemble him—as do you.”

Edmund slowly smiled. “Getting back to our dilemma, how will we ascertain if the actress speaks the truth that her son is the result of an affair she had with Adam?” Before Broadbank could answer, Edmund stated, “The more important question would be what does the woman want in return for giving him into our care to raise him as befits our brother’s true heir?”

“I may have an idea as to that, Edmund, but first, I need to join another game of chance, as our hostess has not sought me out to suggest another one.” Broadbank retraced their steps down the long hallway.

Side-by-side, the brothers were an imposing sight, not that they gave it a thought. It was the sharp intake of breath that had them looking over their shoulders simultaneously.

“Miss Atherton?” Broadbank had no idea what she was doing—alone—standing in the doorway that led to the staircase to the ladies’ gaming room.

Hand to her throat, she rasped, “Captain.”

Twin emotions—fear and worry, were stark in the depths of her dark eyes. She drew in a calming breath and added, “I thought you’d left.”

“Without bidding you goodbye—or returning your weapon?” He held out his arm to her and she laid her hand on it. Pleased that she trusted him enough to do so, he rumbled, “That would not be well done of me, would it?”

At the sound of his brother clearing his throat, Broadbank chuckled. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Edmund. Edmund, Miss Atherton.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Atherton.”

She smiled and inclined her head, acknowledging the introduction. “I had no idea you were here this evening with the captain.”

“I am his escort for the evening,” Edmund joked.

Before he could say another word, Broadbank spoke up. “Where are you going and where is your escort? I thought you were going to remain in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s private room.”

She frowned at him. “I have no idea.”

His lips twitched as he fought the urge to smile. “Is that in answer to the first part of my question or the second?”

She sighed. “I got a bit turned around…again. If you must know, I have an appalling sense of direction—and it is rather dark in the upper hallways. One of the other ladies in the observation gallery directed me.”

“If I may offer a bit of advice, Miss Atherton?” he began, sensing the young woman needed a keeper if she got this turned around inside of a building. Good God, what would she be like on her own in the streets of London? He shuddered inwardly at the thought. “Ask one of the women in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s employ if you have questions or are lost.”

“The woman seemed so very nice and was beyond helpful.”

Edmund coughed to cover his snort of laughter. “Be that as it may. My brother makes a good point. Not everyone inside this establishment is to be trusted.”

“It is for your own safety that we caution you, Miss Atherton.”

“I see.” She remembered the speculative look on the other woman’s face and had hesitated before following her directions. Unsure if she’d made the right decision seeking the help of the Black Widow of Whitehall, Gemma sighed, placed her hand to the door and looked over her shoulder. “I shall take it under advisement.”

Captain Broadbank stopped and stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Surprised, she was about to ask what he begged her pardon for when he reached for her arm and continued speaking. “You shall obey my command.” He bit the words out as if they were distasteful.

Irritation bubbled inside her. Another autocratic male telling her what to do was not to be borne. Tugging her arm free, she rounded on him. “I will do nothing of the kind. You are not my father, or my brother, and have no say in where I go or what I do.”

She lifted her chin and whirled around. Instead of taking a step, she found herself crushed up against the broad, hard chest of the captain. Struggling to recover from the impact, she tried to draw in a breath and could not. Spots danced before her eyes as her peripheral vision faded to gray.

“Ease up, Colin! She can’t breathe.”

Instantly, she had all the air in the world, although her arms were still in the captain’s firm hold. “Blast!”

Daring a glance at the man who still held her captive, she saw stark regret in his gaze. “Forgive me,” he rasped.

When she did not respond right away, he added, “I would never do anything to hurt you, Gemma.”

The sincerity of his words, and depth of his tone, wrapped around her like a hug. She found herself believing him, trusting he was a man who kept his word—unlike her father.

“You are forgiven, Captain. I am certain you have spent more time aboard your ship shouting orders and dealing with your crew than you have at home or among the quality.”

“Aye,” he agreed.

Instinct told her to struggle out of his hold, but a whisper from her heart urged her to be still. Trust him.

He brushed the tip of his finger along the curve of her cheek. It only took a brief touch of his knuckle to lift her chin. Their eyes met and, for the life of her, she could not look away, losing herself in the depths of his tumultuous gaze, the icy gray of a storm over the English Channel.

“Miss Atherton?”

Gemma was a prisoner of his indomitable will, uncertain if it was wise to continue to capitulate to him, or if she should return to the upstairs observing room. Mayhap there was another possible suitor, one who would be more manageable.

“Miss Atherton?”

There was no doubt in her mind that, in all things, Captain Colin Broadbank would exert every ounce of his strength of mind and body to see that he was obeyed. Could she live with that?

“Miss Atherton!”

Her breath whooshed out as she was swept off her feet and into the familiar hold of the man who’d come to her rescue earlier. Was this the second or third time since she’d entered Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment that he’d done so? Mayhap she should keep track.

Her mind awhirl, she didn’t realize the captain had started walking until he shifted her in his arms and urged her head against his neck.

“Don’t worry, Lass,” he rasped. “I’ve got you.”

“Should I collect Father’s physician?” Edmund asked, matching his long strides to his brother’s.

Titan intercepted them before they knocked on the door to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s private room. Concern filled the man’s gaze. “A moment.” He turned and rapped on the door, opening it once she bade him to enter.

If the proprietress thought Gemma being carted about was odd, she gave no indication. Gemma shuddered to think of what else the woman had seen behind the closed doors of her establishment.

“Captain?” The veiled woman waited for an explanation.

Gemma wondered how the captain would explain his actions. Moments ago, he’d been incensed when she dared to question his authority and crushed her to his chest—his broad, heavily muscled, powerful chest.

A sigh slipped out before she could contain it.

“I do not recall summoning you,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon glared at the captain.

“Miss Atherton needs a physician.”

“Why?”

Captain Broadbank shoved her head back down when Gemma would have answered. “She may have injured her ribs.”

The proprietress arched one brow. “How, pray tell, did you injure your ribs, Miss Atherton?”

Gemma pushed against her rescuer’s hold until he eased his grip on her. “I disagreed with Captain Broadbank.”

The grumble that erupted from within the man holding her was loud and beyond irritated. “That is not what happened, or the whole of it!”

“Do set her down on the settee, Captain, and then explain yourself.”

In a few purposeful strides, he’d crossed the room, carefully deposited her on the settee and spun around to face the woman. “I have nothing to explain.”

“Miss Atherton, would you care to explain how you came to be injured?”

“I was not injured,” she clarified. “I simply disagreed with the captain, he spun me about and hauled me up against his chest…” her words drifted into the now silent room, and she noted all eyes were on her, waiting.

“I did no such thing!”

“Do not waste my time denying what obviously caused this young woman to lose her breath or, as you suspect, possibly injured a rib,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon stated. “You are built like a brick wall,” she qualified. “No doubt, the impact would possibly injure someone of a more fragile build.”

Gemma caught the interested, yet somehow wicked, glance Mrs. Dove-Lyon shot the captain’s way. From the top of his dark head—pausing at his impressive chest, to the tips of his highly polished boots.

She felt a tinge of jealousy at the woman’s in-depth appraisal of the captain.

“It sounds as if Miss Atherton is indeed breathing without pain.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon glanced her way. “Is that not true?”

Gemma wished the older woman was not veiled. She needed to gage the woman’s reaction to her words. Realizing the futility of that wish, she explained, “I did not realize the captain was speaking to me. My mind was elsewhere.”

“I can only imagine.” There was a lightness to the woman’s reply, easing a bit of Gemma’s worry.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to cause another problem,” she apologized. “I should leave.”

She pushed to her feet and walked toward the imposing figure standing with his feet spread, his hands behind his back and his scowl showing his distinct displeasure. “Forgive me for causing you to rescue me more than once this evening, Captain.”

When he did not respond…did not move, she dared to reach out to him. “May I have my grandfather’s dueling pistol?”

The captain’s brother nudged him into answering. “I shall accompany you home.”

“I do not need, nor want your escort,” she retorted. “I need that pistol.”

His gaze held her hostage. Mesmerized, she was unable to break the spell he had over her.

“While I have enjoyed your derring-do this evening, Captain, I must concur with Miss Atherton. You should not escort her home as we have not come to an agreement where she is concerned.”

“I do not need—”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon held up her hand, a sign she was used to being obeyed, no doubt much the same as the captain. “We shall continue our discussions after I have sent Miss Atherton on her way in one of my carriages.”

“I don’t think—” Gemma began only to be interrupted by the captain’s growl.

“’Tis beyond evident that you do not.”

Sensing the end of his brother’s patience, Edmund suggested, “We’d best leave Miss Atherton in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s capable hands.”

They’d opened the door before their hostess stated, “Do not think to leave and follow Miss Atherton, Captain. We have much to discuss.”

With a nod, the captain and his brother exited the room, closing the door behind them.

“Now then, Gemma,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon began. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”