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

Chapter Twenty-One

L i-Na heard him come in. After weeks in this castle, she had gotten used to every sound whether it be the wind against the stonework or the tromp of Mr. Gummo as he brought in fresh eggs. But in this case, she saw Lord Daniel too because she was sitting outside, high on a battlement, as she watched the stars and thought about him.

He was stomping along the path, occasionally kicking at a stone or whipping his cane at a nearby brush. That told her he was in a temper, and she wondered if she should reveal herself. She was still debating the logic when she called out to him. He had filled her thoughts too much for her to not see his face lift up to the stars.

“Good evening, Lord Daniel!” she cried.

He jolted and looked up. “What are you doing up there? It’s not safe!”

“You come out here all the time. Mrs. Hocking said so.”

With the moonlight on his face, she could see him purse his lips and mutter. “Everyone talks too damn much.” Then before she could respond, he held up his hand. “Stay there. I’ll join you. There are some things I want to ask.”

She nodded and waited while the squiggles twisted and squirmed inside her. Two weeks ago, she’d felt abandoned and confused when he’d left. Part of her had been determined to be cold to him when he returned. She’d wanted to show him that his presence or absence made no difference to her internal peace. But after two weeks, she was happy to see him, excited to tell him everything she’d learned in his absence, and very interested to find out if he would kiss her again.

She hadn’t felt this giddy excitement since she’d been a young woman in China. To experience it now with her tiger of a man in Cornwall seemed bizarre. And yet, here she was, kicking her feet against the stone like a child waiting for a treat. And why was he taking so long?

He came up to the battlement silently. If she hadn’t been watching for him, she would have been startled. He was a tiger who was no longer growling in annoyance. He’d returned to his usual silent grace as he moved toward her.

“I hear you’ve been busy,” he said as he dropped a large cushion down. She’d been leaning back against the battlements, a blanket tucked around her legs as she looked up at the stars. He placed the cushion against the stone walls, settling so that they both could lean against it. But he didn’t sit down. He stood above her, scanning the land around him like a king surveying his land. Then he looked up at the sky before finally turning to her.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She’d even figured out how to make a hot cup of tea which now rested on the opposite side of her.

“You’ve set the village to talking.”

She nodded. It had been inevitable, but she’d done her best to be friendly and not intrusive. Still, she was about to set backs up even higher.

“I had to check the prices of things,” she said. “Your steward has been embezzling a great deal of money from the estate. He charges you for labor which the people give for free. He charges you for goods at three times the price. I believe he keeps the difference for himself. According to Mrs. Hocking, he has a mistress in Ladock who lives lavishly at your expense.”

“The devil you say.”

She nodded. “I will show you the figures. The amounts are not big one by one, but they add up.”

“How much do they add up? It’s common practice for stewards to skim a little.”

She had heard that was true. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had explained as much when Li-Na had asked about customers who were not titled and yet had plenty of money for the tables. Which meant that Lord Daniel would have to decide how much theft he would tolerate.

“I will show you the figures.” She started to get up, but he held out his hand to stop her.

“No, no. Not now.” He blew out a breath. “It’s the middle of the night, and I have no head for numbers right now.”

It wasn’t that late. She had spent most evenings up here, thinking about the stars, her life, and him. Always him. Such tales she had heard about him. He’d been a rough and tumble boy, always digging into things but somehow never quite as delightful as his older brother. He’d been strong enough to help when fixing fences or digging ditches, but never had the amused indulgence that was given to Peder. Every tale slid into a funnier one about his older brother who had been a scapegrace, to be sure. Mischief incarnate, they said, whereas Lord Daniel had been the one who did the work in his brother’s shadow.

Until he left in search of foreign things: odd pictures, weird statues, and her. They always gave her a side eye and commented that she wasn’t the first odd one to visit—just the first female—and a whole host of implied judgement in that. They assumed she was his mistress, and from what she’d done with him the day before he left, she couldn’t fault them for it.

But was it what she wanted? That was the question that had brought her upstairs at night to look at the stars.

“Were you Baron Easterly’s mistress?”

She jolted at the question. It’d had been spoken in a harsh tone heavy with accusation. And when she didn’t immediately answer, he kept speaking.

“They’re talking about you in London. Lots of betting on who will capture the Abacus Woman now that Baron Easterly has let her go.” The angle of his face kept the moonlight off it, so the words came at her from a dark silhouette against the stars. As if he were a hole in the sky.

It made her shudder.

“Li-Na, everyone seems to be talking about you. Lies, wild fantasies, impossible stories. What is the truth?”

He was not yelling. That made her safe enough for fury to spark. If he were showing violence, she would run. She would know his true heart and return to London as fast as she could escape. But his words didn’t cut so much as rumble through the space. A tiger growl of anger, but directed at whom?

“What did you expect? You brought a Chinese woman to your castle. I stand out in London where people are used to foreigners. Here? I am as odd as a piskie or a giant.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then slowly folded himself down until he faced her. “Where did you hear of piskies?”

“You left me alone here for two weeks. What was I supposed to do in the evenings?”

“Whatever you wanted.”

“I wanted to hear the tales of your people. Mrs. Hocking helped me. We went to the tavern, and I listened to the stories, what I could understand of them. Old Man Rablin talked about your tiny fairies and the great giants.”

“They told you the stories?”

He seemed shocked that she would be accepted in this place. In truth, she was too. “Mrs. Hocking brought me there. I listened, and I told them the tale of the goddess Yao Ji in return, but I do not have Mr. Rablin’s flair.”

“No one does. He’s one of a kind.”

She nodded, her stomach twisting. His words didn’t rumble anymore, but she knew he watched her as closely as any tiger with a mouse between his paws. Finally, he spoke, his tone low.

“I am impressed. I never thought you could do so much without me here to back you.”

He’d been with her here every moment of every day. She was living in his home, therefore, he approved of her. She was working on his ledgers, therefore she had authority to ask questions. And if there was any doubt, Mrs. Hocking laid it to rest. The lord of the land approved of her, and therefore, she would be treated with respect. And from there, all she had to do was listen. It was a skill she’d learned young and had always stood her in good stead.

“How was your trip to London?”

He waved it off. “As expected. Stefan made his statement that he wants me as his guardian. It was witnessed by the most influential people I could find. I will be notified when the church court will hear the case as it directly conflicts with what his grandfather has petitioned.”

She nodded. She did not understand the legalities except in the most general of ways. “His mother cannot be guardian?”

“No woman would prevail in such a matter. Stefan is an earl now, and therefore important.”

“And his mother is not.”

He waved her comment away. “I don’t want to discuss blindness in the courts.” His expression turned dark. “I want to know about Baron Easterly. Were you his mistress?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think.” It had been a special arrangement created by her friend Amber Gohar, who was now Lady Byrn. The baron had not wanted a true mistress. He wanted a woman to talk to who would praise his virility. That was all, and it was something she was very happy to do. But given that the deal involved her never, ever telling anyone the nature of their arrangement, she could not share that information without betraying her benefactor. It was something she had sworn to uphold, and so she could not tell Lord Daniel the truth.

“What other way is there to be a man’s mistress?” he demanded. Unable to sit still, he pushed up from his seat and began to pace the narrow battlements.

“Many ways, my lord, but surely you know that.”

“I can, and every one is bad. Just horrid.”

She smiled. “Baron Easterly was very kind to me. I can say no more than that because I promised to be discreet. Surely you understand that.”

“I don’t like secrets.”

“No one does. And yet, I would wager you know several. Big secrets, harmless secrets, and everything in between.” She lifted her chin. “Did you think I have no past?”

“I know you do!” He spun around and glared at her, but he didn’t attack. His entire body rippled with fury, but he held himself away from her until he turned his back and gripped the battlements.

She waited, knowing that to say anything now would be to poke a tiger. She ought to run away. She ought to hide from his fury for fear of what he might do to her. But she didn’t move. More shocking still, she felt safe enough to sit and wait on him.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew she could be wrong about him. She might right now be making the stupidest choice of her life. But she believed if Lord Daniel were to hurt her, he already would have. His frustration boiled in the air around him, and yet he stood at the battlement and cast his anger into the night.

“If I demanded you tell me more about your relationship with Baron Easterly, would you tell me?”

She wanted to. She wanted to tell him everything, but she knew what lay down that path. “If I break my promise to him, what would stop me from breaking a promise to you? Even if I remained faithful to you, you would always question.” She shook her head. “Baron Easterly was always kind to me. I will not betray him or myself by saying more.”

All she’d done with the man was listen and play cards. She rarely spoke a word except in greeting. He talked about his life and his pains while she served him tea. That was all. But that wasn’t the point. The question now was whether Daniel would accept her as she was—with a past—or if he would demand he know every detail as if she were a ledger to be scrutinized for faults?

“Would you tell me about all your history? About your secrets?”

He turned back to her. “Ask anything you want. I’ve had lovers. Though the details might not be pleasant to hear.”

Probably not, which is why she wasn’t interested in learning about that. “My lord—” she began, but he cut her off.

“My name is Daniel.”

“Very well. Daniel. Why do all the stories about you end in a story about your brother?”

He jolted. “What?”

“I didn’t just hear about giants and piskies. I heard that you helped dig a well when you were ten years old, but that your brother—”

“Fouled it with his friends the very next year.”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “My brother was colorful. He made people laugh and his friends were wild.”

“They burned down a barn,” she said.

“They were practicing breathing fire.”

“And you rebuilt it.”

He shook his head. He was leaning against the battlement across from her, his hands shoved in his pocket. “He paid for it. Father saw to that. Took it all right out of his pocket money.”

“But he didn’t do the work.”

“He was the heir. They don’t do the work.” His mouth was twisted as he spoke, and she heard a note of resignation in his voice. He knew his place in Cornwall and had long since stopped fighting it.

She folded her arms. “He went hunting with his friends and was so drunk he nearly killed some of the tenant children.”

“He was a stupid teenager. He regretted it immediately and sent a guinea to the parents.”

“You were the one who stopped him. You grabbed the gun and tossed it into the ocean.”

He winced. “I should not have done that. The pistol was a favorite of my father’s.”

Which his brother stole and used to go hunting when he was too drunk to see the difference between a child and a rabbit.

“Why do you hate Bob Mellin?”

“What?”

“Your tenant. Bob Mellin. His wife is Anne, his son—”

“I know who they are. How do you know them?”

“Everyone talks of him. Said you told anyone they would be kicked off the land if they gave him so much as a drop of ale. He’s to have water and nothing else until he can walk again. Some say you broke his leg.”

“He broke it himself driving a wagon when he couldn’t stand straight. Fell right off and snapped his leg in half. He could have smashed his brains if he had any, but he doesn’t, and his damn fool wife won’t leave him.”

She tilted her head in surprise. “You want her to leave her lawful husband?”

“He’s a mean drunk, and he’ll kill her one day. I can’t stand to see a good woman destroyed by an idiot man.”

“Why did she marry him?”

He winced and slumped further against the battlements. “I don’t know for sure.”

“But you suspect something.”

He came forward and flopped down on the blanket beside her. His gaze went to the stars as he exhaled in a long slow breath. She wasn’t sure he’d speak, but in the end, he told her the tale. “She was sweet on my brother. He was never going to marry her. As an earl—”

“He had to marry an aristocratic wife.”

“Yes.”

“But he ruined her?”

He looked up at her. “I don’t know. I just know that suddenly she was going to marry Bob though he was a drunk even then. Peder encouraged the marriage. Even gave them an exorbitant wedding gift.”

She nodded. “You think she was pregnant with your brother’s son.”

“I don’t know the truth of it, and it does no good to tell.”

“And so you try to help the boy go to a good school and save the mother from a bad husband.” She saw the truth now. He was the one who cared for the estates, who watched over the tenants, who did the work while everyone glorified the wild brother. “Why do they talk of him like that? Why don’t they see you?”

He chuckled. “Because my brother was handsome and kind. He was also wild and larger than life. We all adored him. The Cornish love a tall tale, and he fit the bill in every sense.”

“But you are the one who does the work.”

He turned toward her. “I am the one who leaves to go to the Continent. I am the one who lives in a crumbling castle and brings strange people to visit.”

She smiled. “Shouldn’t they tell a tall tale about you?”

He shook his head. “They don’t. They reserve it for you.”

Was this why he’d come home angry? Because people talked about her instead of him? He didn’t seem to be a vain man, but it had to be hard to be so overlooked in his own home. “Don’t you see?” she pressed. “I am merely an extension of the tale about you. Just as your brother’s stories are because you kept the consequences small. You took away the gun that could have killed the children. You rebuilt the barn and fixed the well. You—”

“I don’t need you to explain my place in my home,” he interrupted. “I need you to explain your place here.”

She touched his face. “I have no place except what you decree.”

“Really? And what if I decree that you are my mistress?”

Here it was, the question she’d been pondering for the last two weeks. She’d told herself she was working on his ledgers. She filled her afternoon with painting pictures she had yet to show him. But at night when the stars came out, she wandered upstairs and thought about him. And she knew that Bessie Dove-Lyon had been right. She had been hiding these last five years in the Lyon’s Den. If she ever wanted to live, she needed to grow beyond what she’d been doing.

But where was her path now? If she had grown beyond the Lyon’s Den, where was she to live? This was the question that had brought her up to the ramparts every evening. And only one answer came back. An impossible answer, to be sure, and yet, she’d thought of nothing but it.

She wanted to stay with Daniel, but how?

Not as a mistress. She had seen the uncertain life of those women. Thanks to her time at the Lyon’s Den, she knew how a mistress faced disaster at every turn. Everything was dependent upon the master’s whim. If that were her choice, she had a better—a safer—life as the Abacus Woman in the Lyon’s Den.

So she would not be his mistress. In England, that left one other choice.

“Daniel,” she said, her voice serious. “I want to be your wife.”