The Lyon’s Legacy (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Prologue

April 25th, 1818, at the Royal Palace in Brighton, England

N o woman should feel so apprehensive before the act. It should be exciting and fill her heart with desire—the anticipation of the climax should be an overwhelming sense of liberation and a high unlike any other.

It should.

Except that Melissa thought otherwise, as she had to plan it carefully. It was expected of her and just another item on her list of duties. Like everything else, she had to perform at her best. Again.

This would not be about her pleasure, mutual attraction, or all those other feelings described in the books she loved to read. No glory existed in what she anticipated a night serving the regent would bring. This would be transactional, skill-based—she tasted acid—professional.

After her lady’s maid shut the door, Melissa stood alone before the three angled looking glasses in a lavishly decorated bedchamber that was not hers. A crystal chandelier cast a regal glow over the patterned Persian rugs and Melissa felt bland by comparison. Like every part of the Royal Palace at Brighton, this bedchamber featured sumptuous silk drapes in rich red hues, an exquisite four-poster bed adorned with golden accents. The flickering light, the dizzying swirls of the rung, and even the ruching of the cover made Melissa wish she could exchange all this luxury for a walk outdoors along a simple gravel path. Preferably alone.

But the mirrors were relentless in showing she was not dressed for a leisurely walk in nature. She looked all but natural with the tight curls atop her head, and the rouge on her cheeks couldn’t hide the pallor that betrayed her apprehension. Plus, these mirrors showed the truth of her station, which had been degraded to a function—another one of Prinny’s luxuries at the palace.

She inhaled, but the corset constricted her ribs, so even the simple breathing wasn’t satisfying. Walking in the fresh air would be, but Melissa was stuck—not merely at the palace but by circumstances.

Her burden was crushing—the debts her late husband left behind threatened to unravel what little stability remained. Once a symbol of her advantageous marriage, the estate loomed as a daunting shadow over her life. If she didn’t resolve the debts, her father or perhaps her brother-in-law may be implicated in the debts of the husband she’d only been married to for a few months.

Prinny’s offer hovered in her mind—a beacon of financial relief, yet she hesitated to accept. His promise to untangle her financial woes came with conditions that left her uneasy. The thought of becoming his mistress for security churned within her because she’d secretly given her heart to another man.

She twisted her back—she had arranged these mirrors at just the right angles—so she could see herself entirely from behind. When she looked over her shoulder to see the long line of ribbon tied in a crisscross along the back of her chemise, a tight contraption just like the expectations of her, a young widow, first daughter of an earl, beautifully set up for Prinny’s pleasure. It was an elaborate garment that accentuated her waist. In the back, it was covered with satin ribbon that had a pleasing effect of elongating her silhouette. Her figure looked just like the drawings at the French seamstress on Regent Street, but none of it pleased her, and none felt right.

She’d been summoned to the prince regent’s estate in Brighton. They’d called it a pavilion, but it was more than a palace near the seaside. Melissa had never been to the beach before and noticed how different the air smelled upon her arrival. The briny fog didn’t help either.

It wasn’t the chemise or the air, though—it was deep inside; she feared the night even though she’d had the chance to reject it. But who would not want to be with the prince ? Well, she hadn’t thought it all through. Now that she’d been brought here at the prince’s will, she had a chance to untangle her late husband’s debts and ensure her position in society. The prince said he’d help her, but Melissa wasn’t too na?ve to see that this was a quid pro quo. A woman like her, widowed and in good standing in society, would risk everything her family had worked for generations if she refused him tonight—not because she’d reject the prince, but because she couldn’t pay off the debts and her family’s fortunes were at stake. At the cost of one night, she couldn’t be so selfish as to bring her bad luck to her family, so she decided to please and fulfill the regent’s every wish. And yet, Melissa feared nothing more at that moment.

A knock.

The door opened, and three footmen rolled in carts with polished silver domes.

Melissa watched them, but they paid her no attention. They were probably not allowed to look at the prince’s mistresses.

Melissa felt instantly dirty.

Her late husband had never truly ignored her; he’d merely left her to her musings during their short marriage of four months. Nobody had ever mistreated her per se. She and her younger sister Lexi were usually the belles of the balls, as their mother called them, and had to be perfect.

“Perfect,” Melissa mumbled to herself and rolled her eyes as the levied servants left.

The door remained open, but Melissa paid no attention to the goings-on. The pavilion was so busy she’d quickly given up eavesdropping and trying to understand what was hushed in the halls.

“Are you hungry?” A deep voice thundered through the room, and Melissa shrieked.

“Your Highness.” She curtsied, her heart beating as she imagined a fawn’s would when looking at the mouth of a hunter’s rifle.

“You are most beautiful, Lady Thumbridge. I knew your late husband, and he was a fine man.”

But her husband had died of lung fever in the first winter of their marriage, so she didn’t know him all that well. That was nearly four years ago, and her inheritance and station had paved the way for Melissa to mingle among Prinny’s entourage.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Melissa straightened slightly but let her head hang for fear of making eye contact. She’d spoken to the prince before, but this was different. Now, she’d become his prey.

The prince was tall with a prominent nose and curt smile. His dark hair was short and wavy. Even his boots had large, polished buckles. Someone had polished everything for his pleasure. The presentation was flawless, including her.

“Have you eaten?”

Oh, she’d forgotten to respond. “No, Your Highness.”

The prince lifted the cloche from one of the trays. “Ah, lemon tarts. My favorite. Have you tried them before?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Lady Thumbridge, speak freely, please. I am a guest in your chambers tonight. Forget you are a guest at my court.”

Melissa curtsied, but the sigh of relief barely escaped her barely concealed chest audibly.

There was a rustling of fabric, and he stood before her when she rose. His hand came to her chin and lifted her gaze. “Look at me.”

She did but couldn’t hide the hesitation and fear throbbing within.

“You are so beautiful. I couldn’t help but summon you, darling. Fear me not, please.”

“I am at your service, Your Highness.” Her heart thrummed so vehemently that he must have been aware.

“And I shall be at yours tonight.”

Whatever he meant by that, Melissa rather wished he weren’t. But before she could determine his meaning, he picked up a lemon tart and held it out to her.

“Try one. Tell me what you think.”

Melissa reached out to take the tart, but he didn’t give it up. Instead, he brought it to her mouth. Oh no, he wanted to feed her.

Melissa felt like a deer forced to eat from the hunter’s hand.

Reluctantly, she took a bite. The pastry dough was flakey. In her embarrassment, she exhaled heavily, which made it worse; the light flakes of the dough flew out of her mouth, and the prince’s dark blue velvet coat was sprinkled with them.

Melissa froze. It hadn’t been her intention to ruin the Prince’s visit even though she didn’t want him to visit her alone at all. Still…

He looked down and broke into laughter. His chest shook in mirth.

Melissa joined with a smile as she forced the bite of creamy lemon custard down her throat.

“You’re not used to being seduced, are you?” He chuckled, brushing off the crumbs as if it were naught that Melissa had inadvertently spat at the regent. He just seemed like a man, not a legacy of the English Crown.

She put a hand on her forehead. “No.”

“Well, if you allow me to change that, I believe you’ll find the experience most satisfying.”

“Unlike the lemon tart?” Melissa wanted to bite her tongue, but she couldn’t stop speaking when she was nervous.

The prince’s eyes shot to hers, and he gave her a crooked smile. “Do I strike you as a lemon tart, darling?”

Overcome by the moment’s tension, her half-nakedness, the mishap, and now his jest, Melissa broke into laughter and tilted her head back in mirth. The tension made her laugh so forceful that she couldn’t help herself.

He stared at her and then looked away.

Melissa stilled and faced him.

“You have a little gold in your teeth,” he said.

Melissa swallowed, unsure how to react to that. Had she overexposed when she laughed?

“I apologize, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to expose—”

“Tell me about them. How did the gold get in your teeth?” He reached out and signaled she should come closer. “Open up.”

Melissa’s stomach churned. This was worse than she’d expected. She feared an intrusion into her privacy, but having the prince inspect her teeth was an embarrassment she hadn’t expected.

She swallowed, but then she obeyed.

He rose again and took her face in both hands as he looked intently at her teeth.

“Tell me who did this.”

“My brother-in-law, Your Highness.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Why?”

Melissa cringed. “I beg your pardon?” She withdrew her face from his gentle grip, crossed her arms, and stepped back.

“Tell me.”

“My… ahem… in my family, this is a problem. My father has lost many teeth. My sister and I feared to suffer his fate and the pain.”

“It can be harrowing, I’m afraid.” The prince’s mien was dark with a mix of curiosity. “Your father has a dentist?”

“He doesn’t go there. He prefers the pain.”

“And was this painful? The gold?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Let me see again.”

“Your Highness,” Melissa spoke after he took another look.

“I’m sorry if I am making you uncomfortable, Lady Thumbridge. I haven’t slept in a long time, enjoyed no food, found nothing to dull the pain.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You see, this lifestyle comes with certain consequences.”

Melissa arched a brow but remained silent. She’d understood. Even the prince regent could suffer from toothaches.

“As head of the military, I had the privilege”—he waved it off to emphasize the sarcasm—“to have the first and foremost treatment before my troops. Too much of it at times.”

He remained silent.

Melissa tried to smile politely but couldn’t muster it. “I am sorry for your affliction.”

“Oh darling, how old are you?”

“Four and twenty.”

He hissed a laugh. “I’m twice as old, dear. And I have had plenty of adventures and luxuries in my life. But let me tell you, this pain in my mouth is ruining it all. Even with a woman as beautiful as you, I cannot—” He stopped. Then he stilled. “I beg for your forgiveness, Lady Thumbridge. I don’t know what came over me; I forgot myself.” He tugged at his collar and looked into her eyes.

Suddenly, Melissa no longer saw the regent. He no longer looked like a predator who would feast on her. Instead, he appeared to be an aging man in pain, burdened by his position. Melissa thought he reminded her of her father. “Your Highness, do you wish to see a dentist?”

“No!”

“Perhaps a trustworthy one?” she continued. “My brother-in-law is a dentist. He trained in Edinburgh and then Vienna, and he’s been to India for more apprenticeships.” Melissa continued when the prince narrowed his eyes. “He carved little grooves in my teeth to take the caries out, and this will leave me healed for a long time.”

“Did it hurt?” he asked again. It must be important to him , Melissa thought.

“No, he said it wouldn’t, and it didn’t—”

“Why?”

“Because the cavities were not deep, he said. So it was a little uncomfortable, but he gave me clove oil and a rolled towel with something that smelled lovely and put me at ease. It wasn’t so bad at all. As my sister predicted, it was only in the very back, and now the decay has been stopped for the future.”

“What does it have to do with your sister?”

“She’d seen him first. My sister is healed as I am. Except you can see the eight gold fillings when I laugh.”

“Your laugh is enchanting, Lady Thumbridge. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” He ogled her mouth. “And your sister has gold teeth?”

“No, just a few fillings. You can barely see it unless she shows them. I have more fillings, even if they are smaller.” Melissa shrugged. There was nothing to be done about her family’s affliction of caries. And she was glad she’d sought Dustin out for treatment. She said she could easily live decades without losing a tooth or suffering pain—more than Father could say.

“When my father dies, I will be crowned king.”

Melissa nodded. Why would he tell her that if everyone in England knew? It was merely a matter of time before the prince ascended to the throne he was already controlling.

“And I shall sit for portraits that will go down in history,” he added.

Oh.

Melissa tried to smile politely but was self-conscious that he’d peruse her teeth again. This evening was growing increasingly curious.

“I mustn’t sit for a portrait without teeth nor in pain. It will show.”

Now she understood. It wasn’t an odd fetish of the prince; he genuinely feared the pain of losing his teeth, and he was in pain now in need of medical care. And he was vain.

“I’m sure your brother-in-law cannot help me anymore.”

“His mentor works in London,” Melissa said before she’d fully considered what it would mean for the doctors on Harley Street if the prince regent came for treatment.

“Aha,” the prince said with resignation, and Melissa thought his tongue darted into his cheek, where she suspected a sore tooth.

“May I speak out of turn, Your Highness?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, his tongue obstructing his speech.

“My brother-in-law merely took over the practice of his mentor when my sister met him.”

“Good for your sister. I heard that she married the long-lost Duke of Duncan. She has my congratulations on her nuptials.”

“Thank you, but the practice is on Harley Street in Marylebone. There are several doctors in residence.”

“Lovely,” he said, now rubbing his cheek with his hand.

“Your Highness, the doctors on Harley Street are masters of their craft. They can make it look like nothing had ever happened.”

“What do you mean, as if nothing had happened?”

“I have only seen it in a book he wrote, with drawings. When my sister and her husband left, he returned to his practice. You should go to him. He can make teeth whole and white again.”

“I am not going to the dentist. I told you I’ll sit for portraits and cannot be there without teeth. I have seen dentures made from the teeth of fallen Waterloo soldiers. Can you imagine if the king wore the teeth of his fallen troops?” He looked disturbed, and his temper began to show. “It’s macabre.”

“I can make arrangements for you to seek treatment in privacy. I will ensure you are the only one at the practice with the doctors there. They are friends of the family and will do me the favor.” She waited but he didn’t react. “I’ll ensure you are the only one at the practice,” she repeated, her voice steady even though her pulse quickened. “They’re friends of the family and will do me the favor.”

The prince’s eyes held hers for a beat longer than she expected, as though trying to read between her words. Then his shoulders lowered slightly, the tension in the room easing—not disappearing, but shifting. He glanced downward, the faintest crease of thought forming between his brows, and when his gaze lifted again, there was something else there. Was it hesitation? Curiosity? She couldn’t tell, but it made her breath catch.

“I’ve seen artists ruin reputations when favors are owed,” he said at last, his tone quieter now but still defensive. “What is it you would ask of me in return?”

Melissa’s heart raced, but she didn’t flinch. She hadn’t expected to get this far.

What would a single favor from the prince change for her?