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

Chapter Two

T oday was a squiggly day.

Li-Na acknowledged the truth of this moment with nothing more than a shrug. For a woman who prized order, she was having a great many wiggly days lately thanks to that bizarre encounter with that strange man a week ago. He looked so fierce as he clutched her bad painting to his chest that she had nightly dreamed about him.

Average height for a man, but with broad shoulders and stormy blue-gray eyes. He’d seemed both outraged and apologetic as he tried to speak with her. Normally, she’d have run immediately. Indeed, she had run. But she’d stayed around long enough to hear the calmness in his voice.

It made no sense. He’d been panicked and angry, and yet there was an underlying gravity to his voice that settled her fears. There had been no violence in his demeanor, only protection of her silly painting. And when she’d run away, he had let her go. That alone was enough to have him in her thoughts. No man she knew allowed her to escape unless forced.

And since she worked as the Abacus Lady at the Lyon’s Den, she knew a great many men. Since she handled the money at the gaming hell, she was the one they begged, cajoled, flirted with, and made wagers on, all hoping to gain influence with her or leniency on their debts. She had denied them all without thinking twice about it.

Until a man with stormy eyes had scolded her for ripping up a bad painting.

Hence the squiggles. Fortunately, she knew how to handle them and set down her painting materials with purpose.

She was in a shadowed corner of Hyde Park near enough to hear the thunder of horses’ hooves from riders on Rotten Row. Shadows fell on her easel, but that didn’t matter. Today wasn’t about creating an image, it was about releasing her unruly emotions.

She set a sheet of foolscap on the easel, touched her brush in the ink, then began to draw exactly what she felt. Wiggly squiggles punctuated by the sound of galloping horses. They came through as fractured swirls and dark blobs. She heard a lady laugh and dotted light gray bubbles at the top. She listened to an elderly man cough, and that translated to a jagged dot that lengthened into a gray stairstep.

It was a chaos of black, white, and gray, all kept within the confines of the foolscap because even in her most jagged moments, she always kept her emotions within a frame. She could express everything inside that careful square, and not be bothered by it again. Once—on a particularly bad day—she had added color.

That wasn’t the case today. Colored pigment was too expensive to waste on normal squigglies. Today’s feelings could be released harmlessly onto foolscap before she crumpled the paper and used it to light a fire. Or so she told herself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. Just as it hadn’t worked since the morning she’d met the stormy man.

She painted for two hours until several pages were covered in dark marks. One was so full that no white remained, only shades of black and gray. Only time would tell if she’d truly released her wiggles onto the page or if they remained embedded inside her back and belly, causing her to leave off her food and spit out her tea.

She took her time as she walked back. The Lyon’s Den gambling hell would not open for several hours yet. Plenty of time before she sat in the cage, a dark veil over her head, as she used her abacus to record the den’s receipts. Everyone called her the Abacus Woman because Mrs. Dove-Lyon thought it added an air of mystery. Li-Na didn’t mind because it hid her Chinese heritage as much as her veil. And since she never spoke above a whisper, they didn’t catch her accent either. As far as the world was concerned, she was another white woman who toiled during London’s dark night, and she was happy with the anonymity. It kept her inside a dark box as securely as her squiggles had been contained on the foolscap.

She entered the building through the tiny classroom space Mrs. Dove-Lyon used to teach her employees new skills. Two of the girls sat there now click-clacking with their abacus as they learned bookkeeping by double-checking Li-Na’s work from the night before. If they caught her in an error, they would receive a night off. Li-Na took great pride that no one had ever had a night free because of her.

She walked past them without exchanging pleasantries. She would not have minded speaking with them, but she had long since learned to speak to no one unless they initiated the conversation. She spent many of her days in absolute silence.

Which is why she was startled when the pit boss met her at the door into the gaming hell. He smiled warmly at her then jerked his thumb toward Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s private parlor. “She wants to speak with you. First thing.”

A summons? Why? This wasn’t Tuesday or Friday, their usual days to talk. Alarm shot through her, igniting the squiggles inside her belly until they burned. She locked them down tight and nodded. First to her bedroom on the top floor to put away her paint and paper. Then a quick ablution before she donned her dark veil and headed downstairs. She arrived while Mrs. Dove-Lyon was drinking her morning tea which she set down with a click.

“Oh, leave off the veil, Li-Na. The two of us look like old crows sometimes, and I’m not of a mind to feel that way today.”

As was customary, the lady wore her usual widow’s attire, but the veil was dumped in the corner. And whereas Li-Na didn’t exactly wear mourning, her grey dress was so dark as to be black and her veil made it seem as if they were two old ladies huddled in the back of a church.

Ever obedient, Li-Na pulled off her veil and folded it carefully in front of her, then she stood waiting. Mrs. Dove-Lyon released a heavy sigh as she gestured to the chair set beside her.

“Sit down, please. Li-Na, we’ve known each other for five years and yet you still act like a pensioner around me. Are you truly that unhappy here?”

Li-Na tilted her head in confusion. “I am very happy.” She had food, clothing, and safety. Given that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had won her in a card game from a slaver, Li-Na would do anything to prevent a return to her former life. Plus, she was well paid for her services. That was an extraordinary life for a servant. But she also knew that could change, and so she remained respectful and never took liberties unless invited. “I appreciate my life here, Bessie,” she said. Her voice softened into informality as she as she settled on the chair.

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Li-Na didn’t answer. She knew that Bessie prized honesty between herself and her employees, but it went too far against Li-Na’s training for her to mention unhappiness about anything. She’d become a maid at the age of six and learned quickly that she lived a blessed life as companion to a wealthy girl. She had food, clothing, and an education absorbed as she sat next to her young mistress. Even now, after the hideous manner of her move to London, she had much more than the people who had sired her. They might be in China, but she had food and a job in cold, grim London. Only a fool would risk losing that.

Meanwhile, Bessie could not stop her reforming spirit. “You are no longer a slave, Li-Na. You may speak freely.”

“You bought me from the slaver—”

“He lost you at the gaming table. You are free .”

Li-Na looked down at her hands. Free was a word she didn’t believe in, mostly because it made no sense. Rich and poor made sense. Well-fed and hungry made sense. Free meant nothing if one was poor, hungry, or sick. She went where she had food, money, and health, and she never, ever complained about it because that was the fastest way to lose whatever she had.

Meanwhile, Bessie pursed her lips. This was an old conversation between them. They shared tea together regularly and every time the woman coaxed her to talk. They had found common ground when discussing the den’s finances and the lady’s reforming passions, but Li-Na never lost awareness that she could be thrown out on a whim. And then where would she go in this cold, foreign land?

“Have you given any more thought to taking a holiday?” the lady pressed. “England has some lovely corners that an artist like you could paint. A seaside retreat, perhaps?”

Li-Na shook her head. The idea appealed, of course, but not what would happen here. If she left, then other girls would take her place in the cage. They would tally the den’s receipts, and what would she do then? The other girls—the British girls—could find jobs. They could take their skills to other businesses, other towns. As women, it would be hard but not impossible. Li-Na was a foreigner. People did not trust their money to women such as her. Only Mrs. Dove-Lyon did such a thing, and Li-Na would not risk losing her place. No holiday now was worth starvation later.

“Li-Na.”

Her name was spoken with such exasperation that she looked up in surprise.

“Your job will be here when you come back. Can’t you trust me in that?”

Trust was another word she couldn’t embrace. No matter how many reassurances she received, Li-Na never lost the fear of being thrown out in the cold to die. She believed that Bessie did not intend to abandon her, but how often did a woman have control of the world around her?

Which meant the squiggles twisted her belly into knots. “What do you wish me to do?”

“Enjoy yourself? Go to a party?”

Li-Na tilted her head. How was she to do that? She wasn’t ever invited to parties. Fortunately, Bessie waved her hand as if brushing aside a small matter.

“Don’t look so horrified. It was a joke, I suppose. Though it would make me supremely happy if you did either of those things.” The lady sighed. “I acknowledge that your entertainment options are limited. You’re not the usual sort to mingle with the upstairs girls.”

“And the wealthy ladies will have nothing to do with either of us.” Bessie had the same social problems Li-Na did.

“Which is why I believe it’s time for you to find different company. Just for a short time.”

The squiggles froze solid inside her as did everything else.

“A friend of mine has asked me for help. His older brother has died leaving a widow and two small children. The lady cannot manage the large estate, so he has stepped in to help. But the accounting books are in disarray, and he does not trust the steward.” Bessie pinned Li-Na with a firm stare. “I have told him that you can help him.”

“Me?”

“Of course, you. You’ve set up our accounts so that even I understand them.”

“You are much smarter than you pretend.”

“Naturally,” the lady said with a smile. “All clever women are, including you.” She took a small piece of cheese off the nearby tray and nibbled delicately on it. “The estate is in Cornwall, and he has purchased a ticket for you on tomorrow’s coach.” She passed a thin piece of paper to Li-Na. “He’ll meet you at the posting inn and set you up.”

Li-Na gaped at Bessie. Her breath was short, and it felt as if the squiggles inside her had puffed up to bursting. She felt choked by them. “Tomorrow?”

“Morning. Evie will take your place in the cage. She’s ready, isn’t she? I’ll just have to remind her to whisper.”

Li-Na wanted to lie, but she couldn’t force herself to betray the woman who had saved her from a much worse fate. Slaves could not be legally traded in England, but those who came in a slave remained so. Unless lost to Mrs. Dove-Lyon in a card game. “Please don’t send me away,” she whispered. She only felt safe when she was near Bessie.

The lady sighed, the exhale accompanying her as she drooped in her seat. “I’m not sending you away,” she said. “Half the country has gone off to paint Cornwall. It’s beautiful. Surely you can find some enjoyment there?”

Li-Na mimicked the lady’s sigh. “London is beautiful. Surely I can find some entertainment here.”

“If so, you would have done it in the last five years. Indeed, I’d hoped your friendship with Baron Easterly would help you come out of your shell some.”

Baron Easterly had helped her. Three years ago, she’d tired of being the mystery woman every gentleman wanted to seduce. It was her friend Amber Gohar, now Countess Morthan, who had suggested the arrangement. The baron needed people to believe in his “sexual prowess,” and she had needed a protector to keep everyone away. So she and Bessie had spun a lively tale, and he kept everyone away from her. Including himself.

They’d spent several lovely evenings playing cards, and she had learned that not all men were beasts. But now with the baron’s gout paining him, he no longer came to London and had released her as his “mistress.” The gentlemen once again tried to prey upon her, which had forced her to become more reclusive than before. Which is why she had run in terror when that man had tried to talk to her in Hyde Park.

But Bessie was right. Life was becoming too restrictive. She sometimes felt like she spent every day in a cage of her own making. Perhaps it was time to escape the tight confines of London. She could do it for a week. Perhaps. But the idea still made her tighten with fear.

“Now don’t look so glum,” Bessie pressed. “You can come back as soon as Lord Daniel is satisfied with your work.”

“Perhaps he will be satisfied with Evie’s work,” she offered. Evie was a strong woman with a sharp mind. She also excelled in fisticuffs learned from the bouncers at the den. “I will go somewhere for a holiday. Perhaps down to Dover for a week.”

Bessie reached forward enough to wrap her fingers around Li-Na’s clenched hands. “This will be good for you. You’ll get out of London for the summer while it’s so beastly hot.”

“The whole summer?” she gasped.

Bessie nodded. “Do you really want to molder away here for the rest of your life? Before long you will be old and wrinkled having never seen more than this place and Hyde Park.”

“I like it here.”

“You are stuck here. Like a frozen woman inside a picture frame. It’s time you broke free. Now don’t fret. You’ll be perfectly safe with Lord Daniel. He’s…well, he’s eccentric, but he won’t hurt you. Plus, I’ve negotiated with him on your behalf. You’ll only work mornings then have the rest of the day to do whatever you want. Think of it like a holiday. You can paint or wander. You’ll be perfectly safe there. You have my word and Lord Daniel’s promise on that.”

A promise? That was like free. It meant nothing if circumstances changed. She’d learned to live inside a few square miles of London, and now she was being sent to where? Cornwall? She knew nothing of that place. How would they react to a Chinese woman? Would Lord Daniel protect her like Bessie had? Doubtful. Would she be expected to do more than just the account books? She wouldn’t.

“Unless…” Bessie said, stretching out the word to pique Li-Na’s interest.

“Yes?”

“Sell some of your paintings. Give them to me and I will see that they—”

“No.”

“Why not? You trust me, don’t you?”

She did. The woman had proved herself honorable many times over. But selling her paintings was like trying to sell her thoughts. And the one time she shared herself that way, her entire life had ended. She had been sold to a slaver the very next day, all because she’d put her love on paper and given it away.

But those thoughts she kept close. Instead, she chose a convenient truth. “In England, women do not usually sell their paintings.”

Bessie nodded. “True, true. But what if you could?”

Li-Na’s hand tightened on her cup and her breath froze in her chest. It wasn’t a small reaction. She literally couldn’t breathe. And though she tried to hide it, Bessie saw it nonetheless. Her eyes widened and she immediately rose from her chair. She gripped Li-Na’s hands in hers and said slowly, “You are safe. No one is here to hurt you. No one will take your paintings.”

Eventually, her breath eased. In time, she could look away from Bessie’s concerned expression. And once she could do that, she could admit the total irrationality of her reaction. There was no reason for her response, and yet, this is what happened whenever she thought of giving away or selling her art.

“Why does this happen to you, Li-Na?” Bessie pressed. “What is it?”

“It was how I came to be here,” she whispered. “It was why I was sold to the slaver.” Because she had given a painting to the man she loved. And in return, her entire life had been forfeit.

“That won’t happen again.”

Probably not. But she had no control over her body’s reaction and so her paintings would remain her own. Meanwhile, Bessie sat back down and regarded her with troubled eyes.

“You need a change, Li-Na. Something—anything—that will break you from being trapped here.”

No, no, no! But she could see that Bessie’s mind was already made up.

“It’s time for you to stretch your wings, and Cornwall has plenty of room for that. I’ll still be here when it’s time to come back.” She paused as she studied Li-Na’s face. “He’s paying you handsomely for the work.”

“I don’t need more money. You give me plenty.”

“I don’t give you anything, Li-Na. I pay you. You’re free. ”

There was that word again, but it only meant something if she had somewhere to go. She didn’t. In London she had food, shelter, and a job. She wouldn’t have that even in China. And she had no idea what waited for her in Cornwall.

“You’re going,” Bessie said, her voice firm. “If you can’t trust him, trust me.”

Li-Na felt her head dip in a resignation. Inside, her squiggles finally burned out, turning into ash that coated her tongue and deadened her belly. If she was so free, then how could Bessie order her to leave?