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

Chapter Thirteen

T he striking of the clock drew Ambrose’s attention. He glanced at it, counting the ten chimes in his head. Grimacing, he rolled his neck in an effort to work out a kink that had developed. He’d spent much of the evening seated at his desk, poring over the estate ledgers. Though accounting was not his strong point, he endeavored to keep himself informed about the financial ins and outs of his holdings. He paused his exercise at the sound of voices in the hallway beyond his door. Raised voices, as if some kind of altercation was afoot.

He rose just as the door burst open, and Edward strode in.

“Eskdale?” Ambrose lifted both brows. “What on earth is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, Pendlewood,” Edward replied, his voice hard-edged. “And I’ve been told you can explain it.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord.” The butler appeared in the doorway, breathing like a man who had just been led on a chase. “I’m afraid Lord Eskdale would not wait to be announced.”

“It’s all right, Sanders, you can go,” Ambrose replied and waited till the butler left before speaking again. If his gut feeling was correct, he knew the reason for Edward’s impromptu visit. It looked as though the game was up. But for now, he played innocent. “Care for a drink?”

“No, I would not.” Edward moved farther into the room. “I came to tell you that I went to see Miss Hurst this evening. I happen to know you’re familiar with her name, so do not insult me by asking who she is. The reason I went to see her was to declare my affection and to ask that she cease her association with Hugh Varley, a man I do not trust and with good reason, it seems. Miss Hurst agreed to my request and declared her mutual affection for me. I told her I would deal with Varley, and I have done so. Meeting with him, however, was an enlightening experience, to say the least. I thought you were my friend, Pendlewood. I trusted you. My mistake, it appears.”

Ambrose, feeling slightly sick, helped himself to a glass of port and then turned to face Edward. “Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”

Edward scoffed. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. The Lyon’s Den. Your deal with the Black Widow. Varley being used as bait to lure me into a marriage. The little worm told me everything. And as for Harriet…” Edward laughed bitterly and looked down at the floor. “Christ. It seems everyone takes me for a fool.”

Oddly, Ambrose felt some relief that all had now been revealed. “No one takes you for a fool, Eskdale.” He gestured to a chair. “Sit down, man. You look as though you’re about to drop.”

Edward lifted his head. “No. I have no intention of staying. I just wanted to look you in the eye and hear your explanation. What did you hope to achieve?”

Ambrose winced. “I’m not sure, actually, but I can assure you it was well intended. A happy ending, perhaps, for a man who seemed to be going in the wrong direction.”

“A direction of my choosing,” Edward said. “You had no right to judge and even less right to interfere.”

“I meant no harm, Eskdale, quite the contrary.” Ambrose took a sip of port and perched his arse on the edge of his desk. “I hope this hasn’t changed things between you and Miss Hurst.”

Edward gave him an incredulous look. “Well, of course it has. I don’t appreciate being herded. This entire thing has been orchestrated.”

“But Miss Hurst knew nothing of it! If, as you say, she has declared her affection for you, do not throw it away.”

Edward gave a bitter laugh. “Given what I’ve learned today, I’m afraid it can’t be helped. I need to get out of the city. I’ll be leaving tonight.”

“To go where?”

“Goshawk.”

“God’s teeth!” Frustration had Ambrose off the desk and square on his feet. “That’s the eternal solution to your problems, isn’t it? To run from them. You only recently ran away from Goshawk, and now you’re running back there? What good will that do? What has changed since you were last there? Bugger all, that’s what. Julia’s ghost will still haunt the damn place, and there’s a good chance you’ll still be wandering off to the Devil’s Bridge in the middle of the night. Bloody fool.”

An odd expression settled on Edward’s face. “You once told me not to ignore my demons. You told me to confront them, defeat them, or find a way to put them behind me. Goshawk is where I need to be right now. I have my reasons.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Ambrose shook his head. “Do not turn my words against me, Eskdale. You have more reasons to stay here right now, Miss Hurst being one of them. What will you tell her?”

“Nothing. I’ll let you do that. This is your doing, so you can explain it all.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Ambrose raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re overreacting, and nothing will be achieved by it.”

Edward opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again, apparently rethinking his response. “I’m not ready for marriage, Pen,” he said finally. “And that’s all there is to it.”

“Well, shit and bollocks to that!” Ambrose downed his port and went to pour himself another. “Do you plan to return to London anytime soon, or is your retreat to Goshawk to be a life sentence?”

“I haven’t planned anything past my journey home. Listen, Pen, there is…” Edward cleared his throat and muttered something under his breath.

“Mmm? What?” Ambrose took a mouthful of port and thought about getting drunk that night. Thoroughly and absolutely foxed. No half measures. “There is what?”

“It’s not important,” Edward replied. “I have to go.”

Something in the man’s voice drew Ambrose’s attention. A touch of resignation, perhaps. Or maybe just simple fatigue. For sure, Edward looked weary. More than that, he looked utterly defeated.

A sudden rush of compassion caught Ambrose unawares. “You’re welcome to stay if you like,” he offered. “You can leave first thing.”

“Thank you, but no,” Edward replied. “It’s late, and I have to pack.”

“I still think you’re being a bloody fool, and I urge you to change your mind.” Ambrose stepped forward and held out a hand. “But if not, no hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings.” Edward took the proffered hand. “And no more surprises, Pendlewood, well intentioned or not. Next time, I’ll break your blasted nose.”

Ambrose huffed. “There will be no next time, believe me.”

Edward stepped toward the door but paused on the threshold and spoke over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on Harriet, will you?”

“You know I will, damn your bones.” Ambrose raised his glass. “Good luck, Eskdale. Here’s to exorcising old ghosts.”

Edward appeared to flinch. Then he gave a soft laugh and closed the door quietly behind him.