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

Chapter Twenty-Two

Paying a Call on a Matchmaker

The following morning…

Lyon’s Den, Cleveland Row, Westminster

E ven before Charles could step down from his phaeton, he had the impression his presence was expected. Given the missive that had been delivered to Leicester House at some point the day prior, he supposed it was.

How ever could he ignore such a compelling request?

The footman, Perkins, had mentioned a young boy had delivered the missive, a street urchin who was quite insistent that Captain Audley be given the message as soon as possible. “’Tis a matter of life or death,” he had said, stomping feet that were shod in what appeared to be a new pair of shoes.

When Charles asked why the footman mentioned the new shoes, Perkins said, “There was nothing else about the boy that suggested he could afford such an extravagance.”

When Charles opened the parchment, a waft of floral perfume filled the air. The feminine script, written in what had to be high-quality ink given its small size, was brief and to the point. He once again opened the note to reread it.

Dear Captain Audley,

I’ve an important matter to discuss with you. Please come to the Lyon’s Den as soon as you receive this missive. A young woman’s heart is at stake.

Regards,

Mrs. Dove-Lyon

There was far more at stake than Amy Sinclair’s heart, but Charles didn’t think Mrs. Dove-Lyon needed to know any more than she did.

His plan was to simply tell the matchmaker that her services were no longer required for Amy. Then he would pay a call at the Sinclair’s residence in Westminster and ask to speak with her mother. Explain his intentions, gain her permission, and then formally propose to Amy.

As for the other missive that had arrived that morning by way of a courier, Charles could only feel relief. Relief for the earldom, at least. James had apparently succeeded in securing a wife. Within a fortnight, Charles would have a sister.

Dear Charles,

I hope this letter finds you well and not overly angry with me. I expect you’ve discovered the depths to which the earldom is in debt. However, I can assure you the issue is nearly solved.

By the time you receive this, I will be on my way to the bishop’s office in Ely to secure a marriage license. I am to wed Huntsford’s youngest daughter, Lady Eloise, a young lady I must admit has captured my heart in a manner most unexpected.

Huntsford insists on a quick wedding—I believe because he thinks I will beg off if I’m given too much time to think on it—and will bestow on me a huge dowry and a Mayfair townhouse if we wed within the week.

We plan to wed within the week.

Alarm had Charles lifting his gaze from the letter. What was it about Eloise Wilson that would have Huntsford offering such a generous dowry and a townhouse, too?

Was she ruined?

Unattractive?

Or merely a hoyden who didn’t yet know how to behave in polite Society?

Deciding he would learn soon enough, Charles resumed reading.

I know this is short notice, so I do not expect you’ll stand with me during the wedding. I’ll be sure to bring my bride to London prior to our departure for our wedding trip to the Heptanese.

Your brother, James

Postscriptum

Should anyone in town ask about the Heptanese, do say that I am a champion for their protection by Great Britain. Huntsford has agreed to help with the legislation.

During his drive to the Lyon’s Den, Charles recalled the letter, reading it over and over for any more clues about his future sister. He decided that once he returned to Leicester House, he would find the earl’s copy of Debrett’s Peerage and Barontage in the library and discover what he could.

In the meantime, he had a meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon to think about.

From the way the Lyon’s Den guard stood with his arms crossed as he waited for Charles to step down from the phaeton, Charles realized his fellow soldier wasn’t planning to catch him should his bad leg cause him to fall.

“You’re late,” Titan announced when Charles steadied himself with his crutches.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s summons didn’t mention a particular time,” he argued.

“She expected you here yesterday.”

Scoffing, Charles said, “I was in Kent, attending Colonel Sinclair’s funeral. With Miss Sinclair, I might add.” His general good mood beginning to suffer, he added, “I only arrived back in London last night.”

Titan walked with him to the front door. “Last night is when you should have come,” the guard whispered.

Alarmed at Titan’s tone of voice, Charles turned to ask why, but the guard already had the door opened and was waving him in.

“Egeus will take you to the office.”

About to mention he knew the way, Charles was prevented from doing so when Egeus said, “This way.”

Charles used his crutches to help climb the stairs to the first floor, which made for a slow ascent. Egeus already had the door to the office open when he finally made it. From the sentry’s serious manner, Charles was beginning to think something awful had happened.

“Captain Audley.” Sitting at her desk, Mrs. Dove-Lyon waved him in even though her attention was on a paper on her desk. Curls of steam rose from a cup of tea to her right.

Charles approached the desk and bowed. About to attempt to take her hand to kiss the back of it, the matchmaker gave him a quelling glance as she motioned for him to sit. He did so, and when he opened his mouth to tell her what he had rehearsed at least ten times on the way there that morning, she huffed.

“Your matches have been set for this evening. Nine o’clock. You can choose your second if there is such a thing for this sport,” she went on, ignoring his look of confusion. “You’ll have to defeat all three contenders in order to gain the right to ask for Miss Sinclair’s hand in marriage.”

Charles blinked. “Whatever are you talking about?” he asked. “I’ve come to tell you that your services are no longer necessary. Miss Sinclair and I have already agreed—”

“You are not the only man who wishes to marry Miss Sinclair,” she stated firmly.

“Wh…what?”

“There are three others, Captain. Given the size of her dowry, the stakes are rather high on this one. Five-thousand-pound buy-in, and the winner takes fifteen thousand.” Despite the netting that covered most of her face, it was apparent one of her eyebrows arched when she added, “I’ve made sure a newlywed couple will have enough to live on for a time should the gentleman be without employment.”

Charles did the math in his head and asked, “What about the other five-thousand pounds?” And where was he supposed to get five-thousand pounds for the buy-in?

“Goes to the house. To cover the expenses,” she replied with a shrug. “If there are side bets, we’ll take our share of those, too.”

Blinking while attempting to calm his growing panic, Charles stared at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Well, what sort of match?” he finally asked, realizing she hadn’t mentioned the game. “And who are the other contenders?”

“Arm wrestling,” she announced as if he should have known. “You’ll meet the others tonight. I suggest you arrive at least a half-hour in advance to prepare. We’ll have to run it like a tournament unless you think you can simply beat the other three outright.”

Charles turned around, thinking Egeus was paying witness to their exchange, but he discovered the door to the office had been shut. “Will there…will there be a referee?” he asked. “Someone has to ensure that the elbows stay on the table. That there’s a foot on the floor.”

“Of course. Titan has agreed to be the arbiter since he apparently has some experience with the sport.”

His breathing became labored. Had he known of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s arrangements the afternoon prior, he would have given the Sinclair coach driver the address for his townhouse in Mayfair and ordered him to take them there directly. He had briefly thought of taking Amy there for a tour. Knowing what he knew now, he would have insisted that she move in, and then he would join her after they were wed. Meanwhile, for propriety’s sake, he would continue to live at Leicester House.

Since receiving James’s note, he now really wished he had done what he had imagined. Very few knew he owned the Mayfair townhouse. Amy could have moved in and remained hidden from her mother and Mrs. Dove-Lyon until he could secure a marriage license. Once they were wed, the matchmaker would have no claim to her.

But would her dowry be forfeit?

Charles allowed a long sigh as he shook the mutinous thoughts from his head. “Where am I supposed to find five thousand pounds?” he asked again in dismay.

“Perhaps your brother can help in that regard,” she suggested. “Leicester, is he not?”

Charles nodded, remembering that James owed the Lyon’s Den nearly a thousand pounds. Once the earl was married, he would be able to pay off the debt. “He is.”

“Well, if he has that sort of blunt on hand, then I expect to be paid what’s owed me.”

“He’s…he’s not in town,” Charles stammered. “I don’t expect him back for probably a fortnight or more.”

“Oh, that’s right. Cambridgeshire, wasn’t it? Lady Stephanie?” she replied in a teasing tone.

Charles straightened, realizing she hadn’t yet learned of his brother’s change in fortune. “Actually, ma’am, he’s to marry Lord Huntsford’s younger daughter, Lady Eloise.”

The expression on Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s face changed to one of shock. “Surely, he has no idea what he’s in for with her ,” she whispered, her gaze settling on a paper set off to one side of her desk. She dipped her quill into an inkpot and drew a line on the paper as if she were crossing a name off a list.

“Lady El has been described as a bit unusual,” Charles agreed, making the comment based on the odd note he had received from James. “But the two suit one another quite well.” It was then he realized the matchmaker had expected Lady Eloise to eventually become a client.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon snorted. “And you know this how?”

Charles shrugged. “From the note I received from him this morning. A courier delivered it. Seems the couple expects to wed within a fortnight—and they’ll be off on their wedding trip to the Heptanese soon after the nuptials.”

“Hmph,” the matchmaker replied. “Well, I thank you for the information. We’ll see you at half-past eight o’clock. Don’t be late. Failure to appear means you’ll be forfeiting any claim you think you might have to Miss Sinclair.”

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Charles got to his feet. Although he was tempted to say something rude to the widow, he thought better of it.

He had an arm-wrestling tournament for which to prepare. At least he had an idea of who could act as his second. And given Corporal O’Riley’s efficiency in any and all matters, Charles hoped his new valet might know where he could acquire five thousand pounds.

And a marriage license.