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

Chapter Eight

“What would your mother think if she werealive?”

~ Anon

S haken by Lord Grey’s handsome looks, his jovial manners, touch, and thoughtfulness, Lottie fought to ignore the sweeping flush that immediately warmed her. Fearing the blush creeping up her neck, she bit the side of her cheek to stave off that tide.

“What a strange happenstance, meeting the three of you here,” Lord Grey said, shooting her a sideways look. She glanced away, paying no attention to the way his stock framed his chin as he peered over his shoulder at Clara. “My apologies, Miss Norby. I would offer to escort you as well, but sadly, I only have two hands.”

“Thank ye, milord,” Clara quickly replied with a wide grin.

He glanced at Thenie before fixing his gaze upon Lottie. “Let’s go and find your father, Little Lottie. I am sure he will be quite pleased—” her throat closed around itself as his vivid blue eyes searched her soul, and his expression grew still and serious “—if not surprised to see you.”

An amused smile transformed his face until the impish youth who’d once stolen her heart reappeared, his even, white teeth and captivating smile, firm and sensual, upending her sense of purpose. What she wouldn’t give to kiss his lips once more.

“I doubt Papa will be surprised to see me,” she choked out.

“I agree. My cousin is a frequent visitor to the museum, Lord Grey.”

His pale-gold skin and the shadow of a beard provided a rakish appeal that was hard to discount. “I see,” he said, his gentle eyes keenly observant.

As they stepped onto the landing, Lottie noticed how the light played with his long sideburns, making them appear browner than the blond hair at his crown. Wrapped in his invisible warmth, she inhaled deeply and hastily withdrew her hand, motioning to one of the giraffes as they prepared to mount another set of stairs.

A breathless girl, she was not.

At twenty-four, with several Seasons down, she considered herself immune to a gentleman’s charms. And yet, Lord Grey was the most attractive man she’d ever met, which only made the knot in her belly cinch ever tighter. She let out a moan. Conscious of where their bodies had touched, she adjusted her spectacles and gazed at him as he continued to chaperone Thenie to the Gallery.

Clara linked her arm with hers. “Come.”

Through an alcove between connecting rooms, she spotted her father bent over a large stone and quickly deserted Clara, sweeping past Lord Grey and Thenie to greet him. “Papa!”

“Shh,” her father chided. “Young is contemplating several marks on the stone. He’s discovered that whenever a goddess, queen, or princess is mentioned, two signs follow the name.” He motioned her closer, surveying the people in her company. “Ah, back again so soon, Lord Grey, I see.”

The professor bowed, bestowing upon his old student the honor befitting his title. Lord Grey followed suit.

“Indeed. As it happens, I came upon these lovely ladies while making my way to the exit and could not abandon them to the powers of caprice,” he answered indulgently.

“Brilliant,” her father said matter-of-factly. “One can never be too careful.” He gathered Thenie and Clara to himself. “Since it has been an age since you’ve been here, let me show you what we’ve discovered.”

Thenie looked at Lottie for guidance. At her nod, she took Clara’s hand and left Lottie and Lord Grey alone. Nervously, Lottie opted to study a sarcophagus, its mummy still entombed within. She ran her fingers over the decorative mask, trying to appear unfazed by Lord Grey’s nearness as she considered the centuries that separated the Egyptians from London. But it was no use. The man’s nearness created tension inside her, making her eager for something she knew she should fear but didn’t.

“Have you recovered from the ball?” he asked before clearing his throat. “That is to say, have your spirits been revived?”

Her heart pounded. Her senses heightened. The rich timbre in his voice alone had the power to weaken her limbs. She had hardly slept. During the moments when she had dozed off, she’d succumbed to terrifying dreams. Everything Papa had worked for could be swatted away like a fly.

“Little Lottie.”

A delicious shudder warmed her body. She sighed, her finger stilling on the sarcophagus’s gilded nose as melancholy liquefied her resolve. Her gaze caught and held his, hope expectantly blooming inside her. “Why did you stay away?”

Her question seemed to perplex him. “I took the tour, then joined His Majesty’s navy.”

The thought of him being in harm’s way gave her pause. She studied him at length, as she would a newly discovered artifact, concluding he looked none the worse for wear. Quite the contrary. He appeared vigorous, wholesome, and strong. “That is not an answer.”

“My father died.” He retreated a step. “My older brother, too. I was called home shortly after.”

She swallowed thickly, saddened by his loss. “I am sorry for your misfortune, but that is not what I desire to know.”

His blue eyes sharply pierced her soul. “You know why.”

“I do not,” she confessed sadly.

He stretched out his hand, then dropped it. “You were...young and impressionable.”

“So, the fault is mine?” She shot him a withering glance before retreating to study another relic. “You knew I loved you, and yet you ignored my feelings completely,” she said, her voice hardly lifting above a whisper.

“You were my professor’s daughter,” he said. She met his stare, shadows crossing her heart. “Out of respect for your father, I did what I thought was right.”

Her defenses began to crumble, but she straightened her posture with all the dignity she could muster. “You lied to me, abandoned me.”

He caught her arm and led her to the next room, isolating her from the others, his excuse sounding hollow to her ears. Then, when no one could witness their tête à tête, he considered her with unreserved astonishment. “I did what I thought was best for you, for your father.”

“For yourself.” She was too surprised by her own outspoken behavior to say anything more. A fierce spark ignited inside her, strengthening her resolve. He removed his hat and swept his hand through his curly locks, just as she longed to do.

Botheration! He was magnificent.

Blood drained from her face.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked, annoyance plainly visible on his face. “This explains your behavior toward me. You think I abandoned you? You were seventeen years old the last time we met, Little Lottie, and I... well, I had to make something of myself.” The words ripped out of him in a torrent of pain, making her wonder about the emotions he grappled with. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you in your father’s library.”

A dizzying current raced through her.

“How could I not?” he asked softly. “How can a man forget such a sight? You were wise for your years, quick to correct me like no other, and a vision to behold during the two years we dined together. You spoke to your father like his equal, and when I called you Little Lottie, your eyes darkened to black satin.” He placed his hat back on his head. “Out of respect for you, for my professor, for the wisdom I had yet to earn, and my determination to become a man, I denied myself, even though I wanted to seek out your presence every second of every day.”

The thrill his words gave her amazed her more than the actual words did. And yet... she could not forget all the heartache she had endured, watching him from afar and forcing herself not to care, feeling his rejection more deeply every time someone called her Lottie.

“Tell me I am not too late,” he exclaimed.

She clenched her hand until she could feel her nails biting into her flesh. He had been protecting her from himself, which is exactly what she was trying to do for Papa. However, Lord Grey’s observance of propriety, as well as his good intentions, must come to a swift end. A scandal was set to ruin their lives. If it did, Papa would lose the respect of his contemporaries. She didn’t even want to think about her life, her social standing, the pleasures she would miss. To be honest, material things had never mattered to her. What counted in life was love—people.

They stared at each other, two souls longing to bridge the abyss, the brittle silence unending. She could feel her throat closing, a sinking anguish threatening to take hold.

“It is too late, Lord Grey,” she said, trying to prevent him from seeing what his nearness did to her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend.”

Septimus watched Lottie walk away, warning spasms pricking his pride with every step that separated them. Her intellect appealed to him, and he knew that a life with a woman like her meant there would never be a dull moment. Their lives would be exciting, and their nights, equally entertaining. Nevertheless, he’d overreacted, revealed too much too soon, except for the secrets that bound him to her.

He’d already learned he could not walk away or drink her out of his mind. And his comeuppance was well-deserved, though for more reasons than she gave. In her eyes, he had abandoned her, suppressed his feelings, and immersed himself in his studies. He’d done so to avoid Lottie in her home, knowing she was out of his reach while falling more deeply and madly in love with the thought of her more than ever before. She had been the measure of all the women he’d met. Lottie had a way about her that set her apart from everyone else. He’d been too young, however, to recognize it. And he’d been honor-bound to do his duty as a second son, promising to finish his education and choosing to make a career of the navy rather than tend a parish’s flock.

Though time and death had a way of changing a person’s point of view, of steering a man’s ambitions, he had learned what mattered most. He had loved and lost, unlocking his heart and soul, and exposing both to her scrutiny. Oddly, one thing had changed. He was fully present at a time in Lottie’s life when she needed him most, and he would not falter.

Not now. Not ever.

He pondered the small group for several moments. Miss Steere and Miss Norby were engaged in conversation, and Lottie and the professor were speaking in earnest, the professor growing more agitated than he’d ever seen the man before. Young was studying the Rosetta Stone, passing an irritated glance over his shoulder before jotting down notes. An occasional wanderer passed by, making his stomach churn with silent expectation.

The blackmail notes!

There was only one way to stop them, and that was finding out who endangered the professor’s reputation and for what purpose. Perhaps if he did this one thing for her, Lottie might view him with something more promising than disdain.

Turning to go, he set out to put the pieces of Lottie and the professor’s lives back in order.