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

Chapter Six

Meeting a Banker

Meanwhile, at the Bank of England

Threadneedle Street, London

H aving waited for nearly an hour to meet with a banker, Charles settled into a chair across from a balding man who appeared far too old to still be seeing to his clients’ accounts.

“Captain Audley, how may I be of assistance?” Sir William asked as he clasped his hands across his protruding belly and leaned back in his worn leather chair.

“Thank you for seeing me, Sir William. I’m here on behalf of the Leicester earldom,” Charles said as he handed over the cheque that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had given him. “I have a deposit and was wondering if you could tell me the state of the earldom’s accounts?”

“Hmph,” Sir William responded as he took the cheque, his gaze going to the line listing the payer. “You didn’t win this gambling at her establishment, I take it?” he asked.

“No, sir. My brother, James, found an IOU among our father’s papers and asked that I collect it.”

Both of Sir William’s eyebrows shot up. “Bessie didn’t argue or otherwise dispute the debt?” he asked in surprise.

Charles shook his head, realizing the banker referred to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “No, sir. I believe she was disappointed, but it was hard to tell given most of her face was covered by some sort of veil or netting,” he explained.

“Ah, yes. The black netting. Mrs. Dove-Lyon might be twenty or forty or sixty years old. No one seems to know. But she’s most definitely a widow.” He scoffed. “Although I think she’s much older than she’d like people to know.”

Fairly sure the woman wasn’t as young as twenty, Charles said so and then enjoyed the sound of his banker’s chuckle.

“My point is that no one seems to know very much about our mysterious Mrs. Dove-Lyon, except that I can say she has been good about paying off debt not of her making.”

Charles didn’t much care one way or the other. He just wanted to be sure the Leicester earldom wasn’t in debt. “What about the earldom, sir?”

Sir William seemed to think about how best to respond and finally said, “Compared to some other earldoms, Leicester is far more solvent.”

“But…with this deposit, is it still in debt? What’s the bank balance?” Charles asked.

“This deposit helps immensely,” the banker hedged. “But the account will still be in arrears.”

Charles’s eyes rounded. “Arrears? By…by how much?”

Rising from his chair, Sir William moved to some shelves that lined one of his walls and pulled a ledger book from the hundreds it contained. Settling the book in the middle of his massive mahogany desk, he took a moment to page through the latest entries and then pushed a pudgy finger onto the last line containing any writing. “Four thousand pounds. Plus interest,” he added as a bushy eyebrow lifted.

Charles had to suppress the urge to curse. The situation was far worse than his brother had said. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance there’s been an error in addition or subtraction?” he asked with a sigh of frustration.

“I had the account audited at your brother’s request only a month ago,” Sir William replied before he settled back into his chair. “I was under the impression he was in the market for a wife. One who might help alleviate the debt as well as whatever shortfall might occur this year.”

Charles winced. “He’s on his way to Lord Huntsford’s manor in Cambridge as we speak, expecting to offer for Lady Stephanie’s hand.”

The comment had the banker impressed. “With her as his wife, the Leicester earldom will be back in good stead,” Sir William said, excitement in his voice.

“Except I learned from Mrs. Dove-Lyon only this morning that the young lady has already accepted another’s suit,” Charles countered.

The air seemed to go out of the knight all at once. “Oh,” was all he could manage. “What about you? Surely you could find a wife with a good dowry,” Sir William claimed. “Strapping young lad like you—”

“Whose leg is so damaged I’ll never be able to walk without a cane—”

“A rather fashionable accessory these days—”

“—And who has no intention of subjecting a young lady to a life with me,” Charles went on. “And I’m nine and twenty. Far from young,” he added.

Sir William’s laugh was filled with a good deal of mirth. “You, sir, have spent entirely too much time on the Continent,” he accused. “Never mind about the daughters of the ton who are in search of husbands, there are dozens of daughters of tradesmen and military men and even widows from the most recent wars who would be happy to marry a man such as you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Charles replied. “In the meantime, I’ll meet with the earldom’s solicitor and discover if there are any unentailed properties we might be able to sell. I don’t want this earldom in debt.”

Sir William regarded Charles for a moment. “It’s unfortunate you weren’t the first-born,” he commented on a sigh.

Charles furrowed a brow. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Your brother certainly doesn’t share your concerns. He’s been spending willy-nilly for well over a year.”

His eyes rounding again, Charles said, “On what?”

“Couldn’t say,” Sir William replied with a shrug. “But the withdrawals from the earldom’s account have been frequent and rather large. We’ve covered the shortfall, of course, but now that the account is in arrears, we’re essentially carrying a loan for the earldom.”

This time, Charles did curse. “When he returns from Cambridge, I’m going to have his hide,” he murmured. With the help of his cane, he stood and gave the knight a slight bow.

“Well, whatever you do, make sure he’s still marriageable when you’re done with him,” Sir William suggested. “An earl should be good for at least a fifty-thousand-pound dowry. A hundred thousand if he can land a duke’s daughter.”

“Noted,” Charles replied before he limped out of the banker’s office.

He was in a sour mood when he slowly climbed onto his brother’s phaeton and made his way to Oxford Street.