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

Chapter One

London, June 1818

T he brilliant summer afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees that bordered Hyde Park as a gentle breeze caressed Honoria Quinn’s neck. She strolled through the park at a leisurely pace, reveling in the solitude afforded her once a week when Mrs. Edwards shooed her out of the house. She often came to the park in good weather to listen to the sounds of nature and nurture her soul a little before returning to the house and her duties as Lady Danford’s mother’s companion.

Honoria didn’t mind helping her charge, who was somewhat of an invalid, with her day-to-day activities, playing cards, arranging flowers for her room, or simply sitting and talking with the elderly woman. Those were the accustomed duties of a companion that she’d mastered while engaged with her previous lady. What she did mind, more than a little, was the manner in which Lord Danford followed her with his gaze, or stood too close to her whenever they had occasion to meet alone.

Sighing, Honoria shook her head. Time and again, she tried to convince herself she was imagining things. Unfortunately, these unwanted attentions had begun to happen more frequently in the six months she’d had the position here. Perhaps Lord Danford was merely curious about his mother-in-law’s companion or wished to make certain Honoria was qualified to serve as such.

He’d always struck Honoria as a man who was fond of his wife, so he’d naturally want the best companion possible to attend her mother. He had become quite attentive as well. Just last evening he’d popped his head into Mrs. Edwards’s sitting room, startling all three of the ladies gathered there. He’d asked if Lady Danford needed anything before he retired. The lady had smiled, and when she’d answered no, he’d said goodnight and withdrew. But his gaze had seemed to linger on Honoria as he slowly closed the door.

Something in that prolonged scrutiny had prompted Honoria to spend her time alone here in the park. Away from Danford House. Away from Lord Danford.

Honoria sighed again. She’d been walking about here for at least an hour, and her feet were beginning to hurt. Perhaps she could wander through the park toward the cake house and purchase a syllabub or cheesecake. As it was not yet three o’clock, she had plenty of time to explore the park or the nearby shops. Of course, spending the day away from the house wouldn’t solve the problem of Lord Danford’s apparent interest, but at least it would make her feel better for a little while.

Rising from her seat, Honoria scanned the park to get her bearings, then set out away from the Serpentine, which was currently at her back. A brisk stroll would put her into good spirits, with a treat at the end of her walk. Honoria held her head up, squared her shoulders, and set out. She’d reached the wide carriage drive that circled the park when someone called out, “Miss Quinn.”

Startled, Honoria stopped and looked around. Who on earth would be calling her? Then she saw him. James, the groom, perched atop the family carriage next to the coachman, waved to her. “Miss Quinn, thank goodness we’ve found you.”

Confused, Honoria stepped cautiously toward the shiny black vehicle. “Why ever were you looking for me, James? Mrs. Edwards assured me she planned to rest this afternoon.” A flicker of annoyance set in. She was given so few hours to herself, and every one was precious. Now it seemed even those fleeting minutes might be snatched away. “I shouldn’t be needed until after dinner.”

“That’s just the thing, Miss Quinn.” The groom clambered down from the box, his face set in grave lines. “Mrs. Edwards has been taken real bad, sudden like. They’ve sent for the doctor to see to her. But Lady Danford said you should be fetched, so John and me were sent to find you.”

Dear Lord. Honoria tightened her fingers on her reticule. How horrible for Mrs. Edwards. Lady Danford must be worried sick about her mother. Of course, she must go at once. So much for Honoria’s plans to treat herself, but that must wait for another time. Her charge needed her.

Resolute, she marched toward the carriage. James held the door open for her and helped her up the two steps into the luxurious vehicle. She sank back into the soft black leather seat as James shut the door and returned to the box. Moments later, the carriage started, and Honoria stared out the window, frowning in worry for the sweet, elderly little woman.

The carriage ran smoothly along the sandy pathway, as well-sprung a vehicle as she’d ever ridden in. She’d only traveled in it once before, when Lady Danford had had her fetched from her home in Lower Clapton when she’d originally come to Danford House. She’d enjoyed that ride immensely and while this one would not be as joyous, she could still take some pleasure in it. Sinking back into the seat, she forced her shoulders to relax and simply watch the world go by.

Leaving the park, the horses struck out onto the paved road, and the carriage bounced slightly with the change. They turned right, which was odd considering Danford House was in the middle of Mayfair. But perhaps the traffic, of which there was plenty, had dictated this more roundabout way. They turned left onto a broad road, Piccadilly, if she didn’t miss her guess. This was certainly an odd way to go to Mayfair. Had John mistaken his way? She needed to get home as quickly as possible. Mrs. Edwards needed her.

Another turn and Honoria peered out the window at the totally unfamiliar buildings. John had certainly taken a wrong turn. The carriage slowed to a stop. Honoria stood up and rapped on the trap with her gloved fist. “John? Are we lost?”

She didn’t believe coachmen ever got lost.

No response. She hoped she hadn’t offended him. “John? Are we turning around now?”

Suddenly the carriage door opened, the metal steps clanged down, and Lord Danford’s smiling face appeared mere inches from hers.

Startled by his unexpected presence, Honoria froze like a rabbit in a trap. He was so close all she could see were predatory teeth in his widely grinning mouth.

“Miss Quinn. How do you do? Please, you must sit down.” He grasped her arm and pushed her onto the rear-facing seat. “When the carriage starts, you’ll be thrown off balance. John!” Lord Danford called to the coachman and sat opposite her. “Drive on.”

The carriage jerked forward, throwing Honoria back into the seat as they commenced their journey once more.

Trying not to panic, Honoria gripped her hands in her lap. Her fingers were like ice inside her gloves. Her whole body seemed to have grown cold, and she fought the trembling that threatened to overtake her. Lord Danford had done nothing to her so far, save try to keep her from falling. However, her slight suspicions earlier had become a full-fledged certainty that his intentions were anything but honorable. He stared at her now, his dark eyes as intent upon her as a wolf’s might be as he stared at a rabbit he wanted to devour. When his tongue darted out to lick his full lips, Honoria fought the urge to swoon. The man was bent on ravishing her; she’d wager her soul on it. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but why are you here?”

Impossibly, his smile widened and Honoria’s stomach sank. “You seem somewhat distraught, my dear. Pray, do be at ease.” He patted her hands, and Honoria’s flesh crawled. “I had sent for the carriage to collect me from my club. When Mrs. Edwards became ill, I saw no reason we couldn’t share the vehicle for the short journey.”

A plausible story that was almost believable. However, Mrs. Edward’s illness—if she was indeed ill—had come on suddenly, according to James. If Lord Danford had been at his club, how would he know of it? No, Honoria was in a tight pinch. If she were to avoid scandal and ruination, she’d best come up with some way to escape this carriage. Perhaps if she summoned the specter of Lady Danford, his lordship would think better of any scheme he had concerning Honoria. “But won’t it look odd for you to be seen sharing the carriage with your mother-in-law’s companion? Without a chaperone?”

Lord Danford waved that away with a casual flip of his wrist. “Oh, no one will know a thing about it, my dear. I assure you,” he slid his hand onto her knee, “I have a talent for being discrete.”

A shiver of revulsion slithered down Honoria’s back. Her breath was coming in sharp, quick gasps, making her lightheaded. She mustn’t swoon and make his debauchery that much easier. Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, Honoria pushed his hand off her knee and slid as far from him as she could possibly get. “My lord, you forget yourself.”

“How could I in your presence, my dear?” He eased closer to her, and she strained against the corner of the carriage, unable to go any further. “I’ve been watching you ever since Lady Danford brought you home. Watching and waiting and wondering what it would be like to kiss that luscious mouth.” He leaned in toward her until his lips almost touched hers. All she could do was arch her neck to avoid him. “To run my fingers through your lovely golden hair.” One of his hands slid up to grasp the nape of her neck, urging her face down toward him. “To feel your naked body beneath mine.”

Her heart stopped. Dear God, this couldn’t be happening to her. “No, my lord.” It came out a whisper as she tried to stop the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “You cannot do such a thing.”

He chuckled and lowered his lips to her ear, the light contact setting every hair on her body on end. “I assure you, Honoria, I can. I will.” His lips descended to the tender flesh just below her jaw. “I think I can even make you come to enjoy it.”

He darted his tongue out onto her skin, and Honoria’s squeal of terror caught in her throat.

Did he mean to take her here and now?

“Look at the facts, my dear. Your reputation was ruined the moment I entered this carriage.” He licked the rim of her ear, then inserted his tongue into it, the moist sound making her cringe. “I cannot allow my wife’s mother to be attended by a ruined woman, so I suggest you allow me to help you find a different position.” He leaned back, and she stared into eyes as deeply black as any demon’s. “As my mistress.”

“No.” Honoria shook her head violently. Even if her reputation was purportedly in shreds, at least she could still claim her virtue. Little matter if no one else believed her. She would know the truth.

Lord Danford shrugged. “I think you may change your mind after we’ve spent several days together in bed.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “I can be very generous with you if you are equally generous with me.”

Then, quicker than a striking snake, he sank his mouth onto hers.

Completely shocked, Honoria couldn’t think what to do, leaving Lord Danford to take full advantage of her paralyzed body. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he plundered here and there, then pushed incredibly deeply into her throat until she almost gagged.

Rearing back, she brought her arms up between them, planted her hands squarely on his chest, and heaved him across the carriage into the opposite corner. His head hit the windowpane with a crack, eliciting a groan from the man.

Lord Danford slowly sat up rubbing the back of his head. He cocked his head and frowned, like a puzzled hound. Without hesitation, Honoria grabbed the door handle, wrenched it downward, and threw it open.

The cobbled pavement flew by with dizzying speed, but she had no other choice. Taking a deep breath, and sending up a fervent prayer, she jumped.

Fortunately, the traffic had stalled, so the carriage had slowed substantially before her leap to freedom. Honoria hit the pavement with both feet, staggered, and miraculously remained standing. Thank goodness for sturdy half-boots. She gazed around, ignoring the stares of the passersby, many of whom had stopped to gape at her abrupt appearance. Nothing about the area seemed familiar to her at all. Still, she had escaped Lord Danford, and by God, she intended to remain that way.

The buildings on either side of the street towered over her, forbidding brownstone outlined in a severe white. Honoria had no idea if they were residences or businesses, but if she could hide from Lord Danford in one of them, she wouldn’t care if it was a house of ill repute. Picking up her skirts, Honoria ran toward the closest building, up onto a stoop, and banged on the door.

Nothing. Not even a hint of noise from within to suggest anyone was coming to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the halted carriage, and her breath stopped when Lord Danford emerged to scan the street for her. Honoria raced away toward the end of the street as though the devil was at her heels, turned the corner at a breakneck pace, and almost collided with a portly gentleman who said, “My word!” and raised his quizzer to peer at her.

“Pardon, milord,” she mumbled, then skirted around him and sprinted down the street. Her breath came in wheezing gasps now as she dodged in-between the people on the crowded street. Where could she go to seek sanctuary? Any other block would have a church that might take her in, but this street also boasted only dark, inhospitable buildings. Save for the one at the end of the street.

Standing at four or five stories, the structure ahead of her was certainly imposing, just as the others that surrounded it. But this one was painted a pale blue and with myriad windows lined in white, seemed to exude hospitality, as though it beckoned passersby in. It seemed the perfect place to apply for succor.

Honoria started for the welcoming front door only to be brought up short when she was all but upon it. Two rather tall, husky gentlemen stepped in front of the door, as though they were guarding it. A glance over her shoulder gave her a nasty turn: Lord Danford had just emerged onto the street, peering up and down it. He’d see her standing here any moment. It was all or nothing now.

Stalking up to the closer of the two guards, Honoria squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Whose house is this, may I ask?”

The guards exchanged a glance. “Whose do you think it is?”

Desperation made her next words sharper than ever before. “I wouldn’t ask you if I knew, now would I?”

A chuckle from the near man made her clench her teeth. “Maybe you would and maybe you wouldn’t, miss. Who’re you looking for?”

“I’m looking for anyone who will help me.” She wanted so badly to turn again and see if Lord Danford had spotted her but was too afraid of what she might discover.

Again, the guards exchanged a glance, and the one who hadn’t yet spoken pointed to the corner of the house. “Ladies’ entrance is ’round the side here. Pr’haps Hermia or Helena will be able to help you.”

The strange names made Honoria pause only a moment before she nodded and hurried in the direction the man had indicated. She called, “Thank you,” as she turned the corner and ran full out up the flight of stairs to an entryway on the second floor. This door was also guarded—what was this place—by two imposing women dressed in men’s clothing, who Honoria assumed were Hermia and Helena. “Can you help me?”

“Do you have an appointment?” The first woman cocked her head and gave Honoria a thorough look from her disheveled head to her muddy half-boots.

“No, I’m sorry I do not. But I need help desperately.” She glanced down the stairs, dreading to see Lord Danford racing up them. “There’s a gentleman pursuing me who I must escape from. If I do not, I’ll be ruined.” Honoria looked from one impassive face to the other. “Please, I beg of you, help me.”

“Do you know Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”

Honoria nodded, even though she’d never heard the name before.

“Can you pay for her services?”

On the tip of her tongue to ask what those services were, Honoria decided she didn’t really care. If they kept her safe from his lordship, what did it matter? And no, she couldn’t pay—all her hard-earned money was back in her room at Danford House. But these women didn’t have to know that. Honoria had never lied in her life, but needs must when the devil drives. “Yes, yes I can pay.”

Another glance was exchanged between these guards, then the dark-haired one nodded and opened the door. “This way, miss.”

Never had Honoria been happier to enter a house in her life. She sped past both women and found herself in a small, dim entry hall. From what she could see, the walls were covered in pink and gilt paper, with a rather lurid picture of Leda and the Swan hung in the middle.

“This way, Miss…?” The blonde woman raised her eyebrows.

“Quinn. Miss Honoria Quinn.” Honoria gave her name, then realized perhaps she shouldn’t have told them the real one. Too late now. She’d been too rattled to lie about that information.

“This way, Miss Quinn.” The woman opened a door to the left and showed Honoria into a pretty little parlor, decorated also in pink and white and gold. “Take a seat, and we’ll inform Mrs. Dove-Lyon you are here.” They closed the door, leaving Honoria suddenly all alone.

She glanced around the room, noticing, now, that the room’s appointments were more garish than tasteful. The artwork on the walls had the same type of shocking subjects as the one in the entryway. Honoria swallowed hard. The overly bright colors had begun to make her sick to her stomach. She’d had no idea at all when she’d awakened at seven o’clock this morning that by five this afternoon, she’d be pursued by Lady Danford’s husband, out of a position, all but ruined, and trapped in this horrible, outlandish place.

Overwhelmed, Honoria burst into tears. Her half-day out had turned into a half-day in Hades.