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

Chapter Nine

A Disaster Forces a Delay

Late afternoon…

Ten miles from Excelsior Park

T he sound of splintering wood, neighing horses, and shouts from above brought James out of a stupor due to extreme boredom. He’d been reading a book on farming techniques and had nearly nodded off.

He felt the coach shake as Simmons stepped down. Meanwhile, Westcott had already done so, and James glanced out the window. He could tell by the expression on the groom’s face that something was amiss.

James managed to get the coach door open, and he joined the two servants as they stood staring at one of the wheels.

Or rather, what was left of it. The outer rim was gone, pieces of it strewn on the road behind them.

“Damn,” he murmured, his gaze darting up and down the road. “I don’t suppose there’s another wheel stored somewhere on this coach?” he asked.

Simmons shook his head. “No, sir. And even if there was, it would take more than the three of us to get it on and secured.”

The groom straightened from where he had been examining the damage. “Axel should be all right. I’ll head to the coaching inn we passed about a mile back. The Crown and Thistle. See about gettin’ a wheel and some blokes to come repair it,” he offered.

James silently cursed his bad luck. “How far to Excelsior Park?” he asked, hoping it was only a few miles. If so, he was willing to walk.

“At least ten, mayhap fifteen miles, guv’nor,” the driver replied. “I’ll see to unhitching the horses whilst Westcott heads back.”

“Very well,” James replied, reaching into his waistcoat pocket to pull out his purse. He handed several coins to the groom. “Do you think this will be enough to cover the cost?”

“Of the wheel? Possibly, but I doubt it, sir. The labor will be more,” Westcott warned.

“I’ll pay them when it’s fixed,” James stated, determined to keep enough money to cover their return trip and any incidentals he might have to cover whilst in Cambridge.

He watched as Westcott hurried off before turning to Simmons. “I need to get into my trunk.”

“Right away, guv’nor,” Simmons said as he moved to the back of the coach. “Do you want me to take it down?”

“Won’t be necessary,” James replied when he saw the trunk was oriented so the front faced him. He unlatched the fastenings and then stood on tiptoe as he reached in and felt about for the leather pouch containing the twenty-pound notes.

Had he not taken part in the wager to win a wife at the Lyon’s Den the month prior, he wouldn’t have the little bit of money he did. The buy-in for that ill-fated night had been a thousand pounds, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon had seen to advancing him the money in return for his participation.

“We need to ensure a certain player doesn’t make it past the first round of play,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon had whispered. Although James hadn’t been able to see where her eyes darted—she was wearing her widows’ weeds and dark veil—James knew she referred to the rake Lord Brougham. “Lady Beatrice deserves far better.”

Not having met the young lady in question, James agreed to play, bringing the total number of players to an even dozen. Before the game of hazard started, James took the opportunity to play faro, winning three hands in a row. He pocketed the winnings before losing in the first round of hazard, one he felt had been rigged for a certain gentleman to win.

At least Lord Brougham had also lost in the first round.

Wincing at the thought that Charles would have learned of his loss—he was sure his thousand pounds would be mentioned by the proprietress when Charles attempted to collect on the old debt—James hoped his brother could forgive him. He had only accepted the wager because the dowry associated with that night’s young lady was forty thousand pounds.

Although he hadn’t met the ruined woman who desired a husband with a title, apparently the winner of the game of hazard had, for he beamed in delight at her enthusiasm when he looked up to the galley above the gaming floor and blew her a kiss.

Shaking off the memory of his loss, James felt about for the leather pouch and sighed in relief when he found it. Once he had snagged the strap, he pulled it out and quickly re-secured the latches. “I don’t suppose you have twenty pounds worth of coins on you?” he asked of the driver. He rather doubted the men who would come to fix the wheel would have that kind of blunt on them.

Simmons shook his head, his attention on the setting sun. “No, sir. I expect we’ll be having to spend the night at the Crown and Thistle, though. They’ll have change enough for you.” His face displayed a grimace. “There will be no way to make it to Excelsior Park tonight.”

Having already come to the same conclusion, James nodded. “Can the coach be driven like this? Back to the coaching inn? I can walk.”

“I don’t see how, sir. With nothing to support the axel on this side, we might lose the other wheel.”

“Very well.” Sighing, James leaned against the side of the coach to wait.

Only a few minutes passed when another coach appeared on the horizon, this one coming from the direction of Cambridge. James waved, heartened when the driver halted the glossy black traveling coach. A familiar face appeared in the window.

“Blackburn?” he asked when the viscount leaned out.

“Leicester, what the hell?”

“Broken wheel. My groom is already headed to the coaching inn about a mile up the road. Could you give him a ride when you come upon him?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Blackburn offered. “Get in, and I’ll take you there, too. You won’t be getting to where you’re going tonight.” He disappeared, but the driver could be seen opening the trap door in the top of the coach and then nodding at the viscount’s instructions.

James gave his driver an apologetic glance. “I’ll see you at the Crown and Thistle, Simmons,” he called out.

“Yes, guv’nor.”

Climbing into the well-appointed coach, James took the seat facing away from the direction of travel and doffed his hat. “I appreciate this, Blackburn. What has you traveling out here?”

“Same as you, I suppose,” the viscount replied. When James displayed a look of confusion, he added, “Lady Stephanie?”

James pretended ignorance. “I was headed to Cambridge,” he replied. “Lady Stephanie? Huntsford’s daughter, is she not? Weatherby’s betrothed?” he added, now glad that the woman at the coaching inn had shared what she knew.

Blackburn’s brows rose. “Oh, you’ve heard.”

“What’s all the fuss?”

“Her dowry. Weatherby probably doesn’t even need it. I must have been the seventh or eighth suitor to call on her this month,” he groused. “She’s too good to be a viscountess, though. Wanted a marquess and nothing less.”

Sighing, James scrubbed his face with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry he beat you to her,” he replied. “I’ve never met the woman, though. But it sounds as if you might have dodged a bullet.”

The viscount nodded. “Perhaps, although I could have used the blunt. I don’t mind saying this year has been shite for the harvest. I have tenants that rely on me for their livings, and the weather is not cooperating.”

“I’m in a similar situation,” James admitted. “I thought I might keep my eye out for a young lady whilst in Cambridge. It’s time I start my nursery.”

The coach came to a halt, and a quick glance out the window showed Westcott was speaking with the driver before climbing onto the box.

“They’re going to charge you a fortune for a new wheel,” Blackburn warned. “Some of the inns along here have already closed for the season. Can’t afford the coal to heat the rooms.”

“I’ve heard,” James replied, realizing a twenty-pound note might not cover the wheel and their overnight stay. “What will you do now?”

Blackburn shrugged. “I hear the Lyon’s Den has a matchmaker and some rich women in want of titled men.”

“Don’t do it,” James warned. “I hear the games are fixed to favor a particular gentleman.”

His eyes darting to the side, Blackburn sighed. “Doesn’t surprise me. But if I can be that particular gentleman, it might be worth it.”

Not about to argue, James was glad when the coach pulled into the yard of the Crown and Thistle.

Three hours later, the Leicester coach did the same, sporting a brand-new wheel and a bill for nearly twenty pounds.