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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Moving In Means Money Out

The Audley townhouse

Park Lane, Mayfair

“A rm wrestling?” O’Riley repeated when his new master explained his predicament. “At the Lyon’s Den?”

Charles nodded, grimacing at hearing his valet’s response. “I used to be quite good. I could beat any man—large or small—who challenged me in a pub. But that was before…” He paused and sighed as he indicated his leg.

“Well, your leg shouldn’t be having anything to do with your arm,” O’Riley commented as he moved to open a trunk that two footmen had just delivered to the master suite. “Except for maybe helping to strengthen it, seeing as how you have to use crutches to walk.”

“I have to keep one foot on the floor,” Charles countered. “One of the rules, remember?”

Grinning, O’Riley nodded. “Oh, I remember,” he replied. “That’s how Titan beat that monster from Cornwall. I thought for sure his winning streak would end that night in Belgium.”

Charles blinked at the mention of the Lyon’s Den guard. “I knew I recognized him from somewhere,” he murmured. Remembering how the man’s hand seemed to bother him, he wondered if Titan could still arm wrestle.

“Shame about his hand,” O’Riley commented. “War wound from which he might never recover.” He turned his attention back to his task and added, “Anyway, you have a good leg. Your bad leg shouldn’t prevent you from winning a few rounds this evening.”

O’Riley had spent that morning packing up his meager possessions for his move into the townhouse. Then he proceeded to Leicester House, where he ordered footmen to bring trunks so he could pack up Charles’s things. Once he had seen to their transfer to the townhouse in Mayfair, he had made fast friends with the butler, Pickering, and began moving in.

“I suppose not,” Charles agreed. “But where am I going to find five thousand pounds?” He glanced around the master suite, finally taking in the light blue silk-covered walls, masculine furnishings, and dark blue velvet drapes. The Turkish carpet beneath his boots reached all the way to the walls.

O’Riley chuckled. “Have you checked your aunt’s bedchamber?”

Charles’s eyes rounded. “What are you saying?”

The valet opened a drawer in a massive walnut dresser. “According to the butler here—a rather dutiful older gentleman who was devoted to his mistress—Adeline Audley had quite a sense of humor…and a distrust of banks. He’s in possession of a key to some sort of safe where she kept her pin money.”

“Why does he have the key?” Charles asked, suspicious.

“Apparently, your aunt trusted him. He sees to paying the servants and the household accounts, and he said he keeps a ledger of the expenses.”

Charles remembered what his solicitor had said. That his aunt had left enough to cover expenses for the house as well as funds for the servants’ salaries. But how much could that be?

“You do realize you inherited a house from a rather wealthy spinster?” O’Riley asked rhetorically.

Although he remembered his aunt, Charles had never had the impression she was particularly well off. Apparently, his judgment of her was wrong. Determined to discover by how much, Charles grabbed his other crutch from where he had left it leaning against the wall. He intended to find out more about his aunt.

“You’ll know you’ve found it when you’re surrounded by pink,” O’Riley said.

“Found what?” Charles asked.

“The mistress suite.” He paused in placing a stack of folded stockings in the dresser drawer. “I do hope Miss Sinclair is fond of pink.”

Charles blinked and then left the master suite in search of the butler, hobbling as he went.

Once again chuckling, O’Riley continued to put away clothing.

Charles found Pickering conferring with the housekeeper outside of the library, but he held back saying anything until the servants completed their discussion.

“Captain Audley,” the butler said as he bowed slightly. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

“Not a problem, Pickering.”

The butler inclined his head. “Have you met the housekeeper, Mrs. Pickering?”

Charles shook his head. “I’ve not yet had the pleasure,” he said as the matron dipped a curtsy. “You’re…married?”

The two nodded in unison. “A couple of years now,” Mrs. Pickering replied. “And we’re so glad you’re finally moving in. The house is so quiet without a master or mistress.”

“Well, I don’t intend to make a lot of noise,” Charles replied. He turned to the butler. “Might I have a word with you regarding the household accounts?”

“Of course, Captain. I intended to ask for a meeting with you once you were settled,” Pickering said as Mrs. Pickering dipped another curtsy and then hurried off in the company of one of the housemaids.

“I do hope my moving in without any notice hasn’t disrupted the household overmuch,” Charles said as they made their way to the study.

“Not at all, Captain. We’ve been expecting you for some time. Well, since the war ended, at least.”

“You obviously knew I had inherited this house before I did,” Charles said as he entered the study. Despite the house having been owned by a spinster, the study looked as masculine as the master suite. Sniffing experimentally, Charles was sure he detected the slightest scent of cheroot smoke. He could just imagine a gentleman ensconced in one of the wingback chairs positioned near the fireplace, a cheroot in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.

“Miss Audley liked to smoke on occasion,” Pickering said in a quiet voice. He closed the door. “As much as the maids have tried, they can’t seem to rid this room of the odor.”

His image of a gentleman dissipated as quickly as it had formed, but try as he might, Charles couldn’t imagine his Aunt Adeline smoking. “I’m sure it will fade with time,” Charles offered. He cleared his throat. “I understand from Mr. Barton, my solicitor, that my aunt left enough funds to cover the household expenses and that you have been managing those funds.”

“Oh, yes, Captain.” Pickering moved to the desk, where a ledger book was open. “I keep all the accounts here. There’s a book for expenses and one for salaries.” He indicated another small book and opened it to show the payroll for the servants.

Charles examined the numbers, his eyes widening upon seeing the balances at the bottom of the pages. “That’s an awful lot of money to keep in the house.”

Pickering nodded. “It is. I’ve kept it a secret from the other servants because, well, I worry about a robbery,” he whispered. “Miss Audley did not trust banks, so she kept all the household money as well as her pin money in a safe.”

Given the balance he had seen on the ledger, Charles’s eyes bulged. Aunt Adeline was probably more eccentric than he had thought if she kept that much money on the premises. “So where is this safe?” he asked.

Moving to a small painting at the end of the study, Pickering removed it to reveal a metal box mounted in a niche. “I keep the key on me at all times, Captain,” he whispered as he pulled it from a waistcoat pocket. “Although I believe there’s another in the mistress suite. At least, Miss Audley mentioned it one time. I’ve never looked, as I don’t think it’s my place to rifle through her jewel box.”

“If tonight goes as I hope it does, I’ll have my wife do the searching,” Charles said.

“Your wife, sir? I wasn’t aware—”

“I’m not yet married,” Charles interrupted. “I’m in a bit of a predicament, you see. Turns out, I have to…” He paused, realizing if he told the butler what he was going to have to do to gain Miss Sinclair’s hand in marriage, the servant would think him a bounder.

“Compete for her?” Pickering guessed.

“Yes. There are apparently three others in contention for her hand, and I’ve been challenged to an arm-wrestling match. The buy-in is…well, it is far more than I have in ready cash.”

Pickering inserted the key into the safe and opened the door. Charles peered in, his eyes widening. “Are those banknotes?”

“Twenty-pound notes, sir. Bank of England. There are also some hundreds, as well as a lot of guineas in those boxes back there.”

“How deep is this safe?” Charles asked as he pulled out a stack of banknotes, stunned to see even more stacks of notes behind what he had removed.

“Nearly two feet, sir.”

Charles straightened, his gaze going first to one adjacent wall and then the other. “What’s on the other side?”

“Cupboards, sir. The butler’s pantry. And the back of this is ingeniously hidden by a wooden panel that simply makes it look like the rest of the cupboards on the other side.”

“Hmph,” Charles responded, thumbing through the notes. “Do you suppose there would be enough here to cover the buy-in for tonight’s contest?”

Pickering clasped his hands behind his back. “Depends on what that is, sir.”

Charles debated with himself on whether or not he should tell the butler any more about what was going to happen that night. In the end, he decided on full disclosure.

“Five thousand pounds,” he said with a wince.

“Oh, is that all?” Pickering replied, reaching into the safe to pull out a stack of hundred-pound notes.

Charles stared at the servant a moment before his gaze went to the stack that Pickering held out. “You are being facetious, I hope?”

The servant seemed uncertain for a moment. “On the nights Miss Audley played cards, she frequently took five thousand pounds with her.” Upon seeing the captain’s reaction of stunned disbelief, he quickly added, “She was a very good card player, sir. She would frequently return not only with what she took out but several thousand pounds more.” He placed another stack of bills into Charles’s hand. “I made sure to update the ledger with her winnings accordingly.”

“Oh,” Charles replied, staring at the stacks of bills.

“There should be fifty notes there, sir.”

“All right,” Charles, replied, realizing he couldn’t just stuff them into his waistcoat pockets.

Recognizing his hesitance, Pickering held up a finger before his attention went back to the safe. After moving a few things around inside, he extracted a flat leather pouch with leather ties wrapped around the flap. “This should do for transport, sir.” The butler quickly undid the ties, lifted the flap, and held open the pouch. Charles slid the two stacks of bills into the pouch and watched as Pickering closed it and wrapped it up with the ties. “You’re all set, sir,” he said as he handed Charles the pouch.

“Thank you, Pickering. With any luck, I shall be returning with fifteen thousand pounds to put back into the safe,” Charles muttered. “And a wife for the mistress suite a few weeks from now.”

“I’ll be sure Mrs. Pickering has the mistress suite prepared, sir.”

Charles hefted the leather pouch in one hand before tucking it under his arm. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, sir.”