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

Chapter Seven

“W hat in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Broadbank demanded of his brother.

“Do you wish to look for another candidate this evening? You’ve already managed to pass more than one of her tests.”

Colin sighed. “Only one actually—the blasted brandy.”

“Ah. True. The first test, rescuing the damsel in distress was a knee-jerk reaction for you.”

Edmund was right. It had been. But what of when he injured her when he’d crushed her against him? He’d been incensed but had not meant to hurt the lass. “I did not mean to harm her, Edmund.”

The hand to his shoulder was his brother’s way of supporting him. “You’ve never intentionally hurt a woman in your life. Neither Miss Atherton, nor Mrs. Dove-Lyon knows that, although they may suspect. You are a bit of a throwback, chivalrous and all that.”

Colin shook his head. “How can you jest at a time like this?”

“Easily, if it’ll get your thoughts off Miss Atherton and on to more important matters.”

“What in the bloody hell is more important than her safety and her wellbeing?”

Edmund slowly smiled. “I believe you have finally succumbed to the wiles of the fairer sex.”

“I have not.”

“Was it her midnight hair, or her peat-brown eyes?”

Colin shook his head. “Would you be serious?”

His brother stared at him, and an unholy light shone from his gaze. “If I could hazard a guess, it would be her voluptuous curves.”

Broadbank shoved his brother out of his way and stormed across the gambling hall toward the back entrance. Snug would no doubt have a mouthful or two of rum left. He needed it.

Gemma put her trust in the mysterious Black Widow of Whitehall and accepted the news that the captain would offer for her and the widow’s proffered ride in one of her carriages. When they approached her home, the carriage slowed to a stop a block away as arranged. She alighted and thanked the coachman. With a nod, he flicked the reins and drove off into the night.

Walking along the alleyway, she slipped in through the side door, and made her way up the servants’ staircase. It was oddly quiet with no one about. Had something happened while she was gone?

Pausing at the top of the stairs, she opened the door a crack, surprised at how dark the hallway was. Odd . Not one of the wall sconces had been lit. Unease filled her as she skimmed the tips of her fingers along the wall to guide her way.

As fear settled into her bones, she chided herself not to rush. She let go of the breath she’d held, opened her door, and walked into the darkened room. Fear began to take hold of her. Where was the upstairs maid? Why was the room not lit in anticipation of her return? Where were the servants?

Squinting to see into the darkness, she jolted when a match was struck, and light filled the corner of the room. “Ah, I see that my wayward daughter has returned from her foray to the dark side. Pray tell, Gemma. What did you think of The Lyon’s Den?”

She froze. Hand to her throat.

“Cat got your tongue? No matter. I shall do the talking for you.” Her father rose to his full height and walked toward her, a lighted candle in his hand. “I’ve come to a satisfactory agreement with Lord Harkwell. You will be introduced to him tomorrow afternoon when he comes to call on you.”

Harkwell? The name arrowed through her. The lout who tried to manhandle her at Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s? When would her father have had the time to secure his agreement?

Thoughts flew through her mind, tangling together when her father laid a hand on her shoulder. “You will obey me in this Gemma and trust that I know what is best for you. Marriage to Lord Harkwell will ensure you bear a title, and a family. He already has children—unfortunately all of them daughters. I am quite certain you will provide him with his heir and a spare.”

Words stuck in her throat as she struggled with what to say to change his mind. “Father, I—”

“Am beyond delighted to hear the news,” he answered for her. “And so you should be. It was rather a difficult conversation with the man as he’d sworn to me that he had met you earlier this evening when you’d held a pistol to his gut.”

Shame filled her. More time had passed than she imagined if Lord Harkwell had had the time to meet with her father. She did not recall his name being mentioned before tonight and certainly would have remembered the man. His bald head, ridiculous facial hair, and round person was not something she’d soon forget. Especially as he’d backed her against a wall and spouted his intentions to bed her while onlookers cheered him on.

Disgusting man! She’d never marry him!

Good God, how could she escape? Father would no doubt have signed an agreement with the man. He’d announced that intention months ago, only upping her dowry recently when no acceptable offers had been made…that she was aware of.

The tall, broad form of Captain Broadbank filled her mind’s eye. He’d come to her rescue more than once this evening. Mayhap if she sent word to him, he would do so again. She blinked as her father took the light with him and bade her goodnight.

“Do not leave the house.” He closed the door, leaving her in utter darkness.

The snick of a lock turning had her rushing to the door and the key that should be in the lock…it wasn’t there. Abject terror swept up from her toes. “Father!” She pounded on the door. “Let me out!”

Silence was his reply.

Hands shaking, stomach churning, she willed her feet to move to the bedside table. Her eyes adjusted to the dark once more. She found the candle and managed to light it, though her hands trembled.

Holding the light in front of her, she made her way to the window facing the alley and pulled back the heavy drapes. The alley was empty—just as their house had been. Not a servant in sight. Had Father dismissed them all for the night or permanently? She could not imagine he could go a single day without ordering servants about and had not the temperament to train staff when their current staff knew his schedule, his every desire.

How long had this arrangement been in the works? Father never did anything without careful planning. She had to find a way out of this quagmire. A sudden thought filled her. Where was Simon? Her brother would help her escape, wouldn’t he?

Not willing to give in, her mind came up with one plan after another of possible escape only to discard them as hopeless… futile …no one would come to save her this time. She’d been a fool to think she had control over her future.

She should have stayed at The Lyon’s Den.