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

Chapter Three

B efore Honoria could pull herself together, the door opened and the blond woman entered, now carrying a tray with a glass and a decanter of wine. Strangely, the woman seemed undaunted by the presence of an unexpected visitor to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment—whatever it was.

“Would you care for some wine, Miss Quinn? You seem to have had a shock. Wine is good for that.” She placed the tray on the sideboard and looked a question at Honoria.

She shook her head. Unused to drinking wine at the best of times, she shuddered to think how quickly it would impair her judgment just when she needed it most. “That is kind of you, but no, thank you.”

“I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind. Hermia is informing Mrs. Dove-Lyon of your presence now. She should be in to see you shortly.” Without a backward glance, the woman left, closing the door behind her with a firm click.

Honoria listened for the scrape of a key in the lock, but only the sound of the door’s firm click met her ear. In any case, they would have little need to lock her in. Desperation made Honoria loathe to leave her sanctuary, despite her growing misgivings about Mrs. Dove-Lyon. What kind of services did this woman provide for ladies who could pay? And what would she do to Honoria when she discovered she could not?

Glancing at the sideboard, Honoria rose and stalked over to it. More to give herself something to do than anything else, she poured a full glass of the dark, rich wine. Perhaps a sip would restore her strength and confidence. One sip turned into two. The vintage was drier than she liked, but already she could feel the tension loosen in her body. She took a longer draft. Perhaps when Mrs. Dove-Lyon came, Honoria could simply tell her the truth, that she’d been attacked and pursued here. And if Lord Danford had gone, she, Honoria, could leave and trouble Mrs. Dove-Lyon no more. The very worst the woman could do was throw her out, and in the end, she must leave anyway.

And go where?

She dared not go back to Danford House to gather her belongings. She could never keep her countenance from showing her distress before Lady Danford. Even worse, Lord Danford might be home before she arrived. If she saw him again and had to listen to his indecent proposal once more, she would swoon. Once the whole sordid episode had come to light, she’d surely be unceremoniously thrown out, reputation irrevocably sullied. So where could she go?

The logical place was home, to her parents in Lower Clapton. They would take her back, at least, she hoped they would. Her father was vicar of a small parish at Fletching. If Honoria returned home ruined, would her family be able to shelter her without the disgrace touching them as well? She truly didn’t know. But what else could she do?

The wine in her glass had magically disappeared, and she poured herself another. The loss of her position as a companion would not be a financial disaster, thank goodness. Her father’s living supported the family admirably. What she would do with her life after this debacle, however, she didn’t know. At three and twenty, she had few options even without a stain on her reputation. Now she might be lucky to be able to simply return home. She sipped more wine. Why she’d always shunned it before was a mystery to her. The taste was delightful.

Just about to pour another glass, Honoria stopped when the door unexpectedly opened, admitting a strange figure draped completely in black. Taken aback, Honoria let the bottle slip out of her hand. It thudded onto the sideboard but fortunately did not break.

“Miss Honoria Quinn, I presume?” The woman’s voice was gruff, no-nonsense.

“Yes, ma’am.” Barely whispering, Honoria kept her head down, wishing she hadn’t drunk that second glass of wine.

“Why are you here, Miss Quinn?”

The stern voice, coupled with the heady wine, broke whatever reticence Honoria had heretofore mustered. With a huge sob, the truth erupted out of her until she stood before the enigmatic figure, unable to stop weeping. “I don’t know what to do, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Truly I don’t. I can’t go back to Danford House. As soon as Lady Danford hears of it, I’ll be dismissed and sent away. Even though it wasn’t my fault.”

The last word came out on a wail as Honoria’s resentment for Lord Danford reached a fever pitch. She’d done nothing wrong, nothing. Yet now she would be sent home in disgrace, and likely end up doing needlework for the church for the rest of her life as penance.

“Of course, it wasn’t your fault, Miss Quinn. What happens to women in this world is seldom due to any fault of their own.”

That got Honoria’s attention. She peered at the lace veil that covered the other woman’s face. She would surely love to see what was behind that veil.

“My question to you, Miss Quinn, is do you have the courage to take life’s opportunities and bend them to your own will when they are presented to you?” The black-garbed figure stood with hands on hips. “I can arrange for a great opportunity for you if you are willing to take it when it presents itself.”

Honoria stared at Mrs. Dove-Lyon, heart beating so fast it threatened to burst out of her chest. What was the woman talking about? On the tip of her tongue to ask, she instead kept her mouth shut. Mrs. Dove-Lyon likely didn’t suffer fools. If Honoria seemed reluctant or uncertain, the woman would simply dismiss her and push her out the door into what had become a hostile world. Better to take her chances here and now. Therefore, she gave the only answer she could. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon pulled the door open and strode out into the entryway. “Follow me.”

“What the deuce were you playing at, Danford?” The door had scarcely closed on Thomas and the earl when Thomas let his displeasure be known. “Are you so deeply in your cups that you don’t know the world of trouble you’ve unleashed?” Perturbed by Danford’s seeming lack of feeling, Thomas strode up and down the length of the chamber they’d been brought to, contemplating how to make the earl repent his actions. “You’ve likely ruined Miss Quinn, do you understand that?”

“Not as much as I would like to have done,” Danford muttered and headed toward the decanter of amber spirits on the sideboard.

“Danford!” Thomas was certainly no prude, but such a callous sentiment, spoken without an iota of feeling, was unconscionable coming from a man who purported to be a gentleman. “She is under your protection in your household. You have a duty to safeguard her, not debauch her.”

“She’s a temptress, Braeton.” Danford’s hand shook as he poured a generous tot of what looked to be brandy. “A veritable siren who has bewitched me until I simply couldn’t stand it anymore.”

The ragged emotion in the earl’s voice caught Thomas’s attention. Was Miss Quinn the innocent in this debacle or not? “Do you mean to say the woman has been trying to seduce you?”

“She has seduced me, without even trying.” With a practiced hand, Danford upended the glass of spirits, tossing it down his throat without batting an eye. “From the moment she entered the house six months ago, I’ve been obsessed with her.” He stared at Thomas with haunted eyes. “I was certain I’d have her today in the carriage. She struggled very prettily, which just aroused me all the more. And when I finally kissed those delicious lips, I thought I’d spill myself.” The rapt look on Danford’s face showed him still in thrall of the moment. He glanced at Thomas and shrugged. “You haven’t seen her, Braeton. When you do, you’ll understand.”

“I heartily doubt that, Danford. You sound like a man obsessed.” Thomas had known men who became fixated with someone or something, although he himself had never grown so passionate he lost himself in the process. “You’d best try to extricate yourself from this contretemps you’ve created before it comes to the ears of your wife. As it is, you’ll have the devil’s own time explaining to her why her companion will not be returning to her house.”

Danford chuckled. “I assure you, Breaton, that was part of my plan all along. Lady Danford will receive a letter from Miss Quinn, telling a tale of disaster at home and the need to go to her parents at once. An address will be provided to send her things to her, but instead of her parents, it will be the new house that I have provided for her.”

The incredible optimism of the man staggered Thomas. He’d never seen anyone so delusional. “You’re speaking as though Miss Quinn has already agreed to be your mistress when she seems to have rejected that option by her flight to this establishment.”

An evil grin spread across Danford’s face. “I believe I can show her how advantageous such an arrangement would be for her. And how ruinous her refusal would be to her reputation.”

That boded very ill for Miss Quinn. If the woman had not brought Danford’s attention upon herself—and Thomas tended to believe Miss Quinn’s actions rather than the earl’s words—she deserved the chance to leave this house with her reputation intact. How Danford planned to persuade her would be worth knowing, in order to produce a counterargument. “How do you propose to bring that ab—”

The door opened, admitting Geoffrey. “Thank goodness. I must have looked in five different rooms before I found you.” He nodded to Danford. “My lord.”

“Rochdale is dispatched home?” His brother-in-law had much to make up for in dragging Thomas to the Lyon’s Den today.

“He is. I put him in the hack myself and gave the coachman the direction.” Glancing around the room, his friend’s dark brows puckered. “Why are you still detained here?”

“We await Miss Quinn’s appearance to put an end to the incident.”

Geoffrey nodded toward a convenient corner, and Thomas happily followed him, eager to converse with someone other than the diabolical Danford. “Please enlighten me, Thomas, as to your part in this unfortunate confrontation. Why are we not this minute contemplating the cattle at Tattersall’s?”

“I wish to God we were.” Thomas shot a look at the earl, calmly pouring himself another drink. “But I cannot stand by and let the likes of Danford force a young innocent into a life of immorality.”

“That is his intention?” Geoffrey’s brows swooped up, and he shifted his gaze to Danford.

Thomas nodded. “He has planned this debauchery for some time it seems. And today he has set the plan in motion.” He caught his friend’s eye and shook his head. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow him to succeed.”

“Planning to play the knight errant, Thomas?”

“If I must.” Thomas shrugged. “There are worse roles one might play.”

“I beg you to be careful. This is truly none of your business this time.” Geoffrey’s exasperated look drew a smile from Thomas. His friend had witnessed Thomas’s folly before when he’d tried to prevent a wrong.

“I assure you, I will retain a cool head. I seek only to assess Miss Quinn’s character and assist in her escape from Danford’s clutches.”

“You make that sound like a simple task.” Pursing his lips, Geoffrey crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friend.

“I hope it shall be.” A counter plan to the earl’s had presented itself after a little thought. “If I can persuade Miss Quinn to quit London and return to her parents’ home or some relative or friend who will shelter her until this wretched business has blown over, perhaps she can find another position as a companion in another part of the country, for choice.” A long shot, of course, but not unheard of if the scandalous behavior of Danford could be kept quiet. In any case, it would keep Miss Quinn out of Danford’s clutches. More than that, Thomas could not promise.

Following along dutifully behind Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Honoria fought to clear her head. Those two glasses of wine, while comforting, had been a mistake for now her head was spinning, and she struggled to keep up. As they went down a steep flight of stairs, the woman’s words kept whirling around her mind as well. What opportunity did she think to present? The only one Honoria craved was the opportunity to absent herself from Lord Danford and anything to do with him. A circumstance that would leave her without a position, but that was certainly preferable to being dishonored by the earl.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon came to the final step and turned a corner, Honoria at her heels. She caught glimpses of various other rooms, filled with well-dressed gentlemen sitting around card tables or grouped together laughing. Then she and Mrs. Dove-Lyon were climbing another set of stairs. It was again on the tip of her tongue to ask where they were going, when Mrs. Dove-Lyon reached the top of the stairs, opened a massive mahogany door, and nodded to Honoria. “This way, Miss Quinn.”

Afraid to disobey, Honoria continued into the room, furnished with expensive chairs, a comfortable-looking chaise longue, and an over large wooden desk, piles of papers neatly stacked all over it. Now what did Mrs.—Honoria stopped dead, all the air rushing out of her lungs at the sight of Lord Danford standing before the fireplace.

“Honoria!” The earl all but leaped toward her, prevented, thank God, by the efforts of a taller, blonde-haired gentleman, who grabbed his arm and tugged him backward. A second gentleman, with dark hair and a huskier build, moved to Lord Danford’s other arm and grasped it in a strong grip. Once more able to breathe, Honoria turned to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, outrage bubbling up. “What is he doing here? He cannot be the opportunity you spoke of?”

“No, my dear. He is not,” she whispered. The woman turned toward the earl and stretched out her arm, her finger pointing directly at him. “However, Lord Danford has made the unfortunate mistake of announcing to all my patrons within shouting distance, that he was searching for you. Worse, he called out for you by name, several times.”

The sinking sensation in the pit of Honoria’s stomach might have been due to the wine but was more likely to the horrible realization that now a great many people suspected Lord Danford was trying to debauch her. It didn’t matter that nothing had happened between her and the earl. In the eyes of the hearers, it was a fait accompli . Her knees buckled, and she clutched the back of the brightly flowered chaise.

“Please have a seat, Miss Quinn. Lord Longford,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon shifted toward the dark-haired gentleman, “although you were not originally invited to this meeting, you may make yourself useful and pour Miss Quinn a brandy.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Honoria put her head in her hands. In her current state, more spirits might make an end to her.

“Lord Longford.” The imperious tone must have moved the gentleman, for presently he urged a small cut-glass tumbler with a healthy tot of spirits into her hand. Honoria wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell.

“Honoria.”

She cringed at the urgency of Lord Danford’s voice as he spoke her name.

“Honoria, you must believe me, I meant you no harm. If you had heard me out in the carriage, heard my plan for us to be together, we would not be here.”

If she could have sunk through the floor, Honoria would have gladly done so. All the way to Timbuktu. The glass of brandy trembled in her hand.

“Danford, my God, man. Have you no shame?” This new voice, sharp with censure and clearly outraged, brought Honoria’s head up. The blonde gentleman’s face was twisted with disgust as he glared at Lord Danford.

The earl looked astounded at the man. “I would not play her false, Braeton. As I told you, I meant to set her up with a house, carriage, jewels.” He turned eager eyes on Honoria. “Anything you wish, my dear, I will give you and gladly. All you need do is agree to be mine.”

Without another thought, Honoria tossed the brandy down her throat, then choked as the sharp spirits hit their mark. She coughed and coughed until Mrs. Dove-Lyon pounded her on the back, bringing tears to her eyes. Might as well cry. Her life hung around her in ruins.

“Well, Miss Quinn?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s tone was soft, cajoling. “It’s not a bad offer, all things considered.”

Honoria turned to the woman, gazing at her astounded. Had she indeed lost her mind? Both Lord Longford and the one called Braeton had monstrous frowns on their faces, so maybe she wasn’t the only one outraged by Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words. “It’s a scandalous offer, ma’am.” The brandy had somehow given her more backbone. “And not one I’m inclined to take.”

“You don’t have much of a choice, my dear.” Danford shrugged out of Braeton’s grip and straightened his shoulders. “Lady Danford won’t have you back once word of this reaches her ears. And I’ll make certain it reaches them post-haste. You’ll be dismissed before the sun sets today. Then what will you do?”

Well, Honoria had already worked that out. “I’ve already considered myself no longer part of your household, my lord. I will make arrangements to travel to my parents’ home. No one will take notice of me there.”

“Except I’ll make certain they do, my dear.” Lord Danford had come to stand in front of her, and she cringed, trying to make herself smaller. “Unless you accept my protection, I’ll make certain everyone knows why you left my household.” He smiled, almost kindly. “No decent person of the ton will ever speak to you or your family again.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Honoria peered into his face, trying to fathom why he seemed hell-bent on ruining her.

“Because I want you, my dear, and I will have you,” he said simply and grasped her hand. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. And I almost always get what I want. No matter what I have to do to get it.”

She snatched her hand from his grip and turned beseechingly to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Can you not do something, ma’am?”

From the corner of her eye, Mr. Braeton made as if to go to her, but Lord Longford restrained him. Pity.

She returned her attention to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Can we not call the authorities? This is wrong, wicked what he’s trying to do to me.”

Danford laughed. “What on earth would the authorities do? This is a mere business deal, my dear. Come,” he grabbed her hand again, “let us take the carriage, and I will show you the house I have rented for you.” His voice softened. “There will be servants, clothes, jewels. Anything your heart desires.” Eyes blazing with a strange light, he kissed her hand. “I assure you, I plan to be very generous with you if you are generous with me.”

The touch of his lips made the skin want to crawl off her bones. She bounded up, drew her hand back, and slapped him across the cheek. Whirling around, to put the chaise between them, she glanced toward the door, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon stood between her and it. And Honoria wasn’t completely certain the woman would let her leave. She turned to face Danford, careful to remain out of his reach. “I don’t care what you say in London. Shout it from the rafters for all I care. I will go home and remain there, where no one will know or care what lies you have spread.”

“Oh, but they will know, Honoria.” Lord Danford stalked around the chaise, and she scooted back until she bumped into Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “I know where your father’s parish is. And I will make certain everyone in the village knows that I have asked you to be my mistress. Knowing the village mindset, they will believe it has already happened.” He shook his head, his lips set in a rueful smile. “I somehow think neither your parents nor your neighbors will welcome such a notorious figure with open arms. In fact, the bishop might even revoke your father’s living for having raised such a depraved daughter.”

He couldn’t do this. How could he boast of ruining her and her family so thoroughly and no one come to their aid? “You are a wicked, wicked man.” She burst into tears. “You cannot do this to me.”

“I can, and I will, Honoria.” He cupped her chin and drew her face up to his. “If you wish to save your family, you have no choice, my dear.”

A sudden commotion in the corner of the room where Lord Longford and Mr. Braeton had retired drew all their attention to the two other gentlemen. Mr. Braeton had pulled away from Lord Longford and now stalked toward them, his frown darkening his otherwise handsome face. “You do have a choice, Miss Quinn.”

Honoria jerked away from Lord Danford, clutching the sole offer of hope. “What do you mean, sir?”

“What the devil, Braeton?” The earl had turned toward the other man, murder simmering in his eyes. “What are you playing at?”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Quinn, but I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.” Mr. Braeton continued as though Lord Danford had not spoken. “I am Lord Braeton, whom Mrs. Dove- Lyon asked to be present to act on your behalf and for your benefit if such an occasion arose.” He glared at Lord Danford. “And I believe it has.”

“Keep out of this, Braeton.” The growl was menacing, but Lord Braeton continued to simply ignore the earl.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, my lord.” Honoria’s courage seemed to be waning, as were her wits. This Lord Braeton was to act on her behalf? But how? And who was he, that he should have an interest in her plight?

“It must be confusing, I’m sure.” His tone was soothing, comforting even. “But the upshot of the situation, as I understand it, is that you wish to refuse Lord Danford’s offer if some other opportunity would present itself, is that correct?”

“Well, yes.” Of course, she’d wish for some other choice than to become Lord Danford’s mistress. His use of the word “opportunity” reminded her of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words when they left the parlor. Was this what she’d been talking about? “Do you know of some other course, my lord?” For a moment she allowed herself to hope. “Another, more honorable choice?”

“I do, Miss Quinn.” Lord Braeton shot a frightening look at Mrs. Dove-Lyon, then relaxed his features and turned a more pleasant gaze on her. “You can choose, instead, to marry me.”