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

Chapter Nineteen

T he next morning, John decided to clean the silver box that held his grandmother’s large ruby ring. He had retrieved it from the Duncan family vault and placed the cleaning solution for the box and a cloth on his desk.

“What is this?” Herbert asked when he entered the study without so much as a hello.

“My grandmother’s ring. It’s a very valuable ruby, and this ring has been in our family for over one hundred years.”

Herbert narrowed his eyes. “So why do you need it now?”

“Look here,” John took the ring from its velvet cushion, a faded shade of orange that was now more of a sandy ocher but still soft and plush to keep the precious ring safe. “On this side of the shank, there’s a small seal. Can you see it?”

Herbert took the ring and held it close to his face. “This little swirl and the shape?”

“Yes, it’s how our family crest looked back then. And it’s stamped into this ring.”

“Why?”

“Because the woman who receives this ring will join the Dukedom, the Duncan family. Every woman who wore this lived a long, happy life. It’s a family tradition.”

“So why are you taking it out?” Herbert’s tone grew a bit indignant.

“I want to give it to Melissa.” John paused when he saw Herbert’s face drain of color. “To ask her—”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” John asked. He’d loved with everything he had before, only to watch it slip through his fingers, a cruel pattern life seemed determined to repeat. There was no way John would let anyone take Melissa away from him.

“It’s not your decision.” Herbert stomped his foot.

John drew a slow breath, reining in his initial reaction. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he met Herbert’s gaze, his voice steady and kind. “Herbert, I know this isn’t easy for you. None of this is. Losing your mother—losing Marianne—it left a hole in both of our lives that nothing and no one could fill.”

Herbert’s jaw tightened, a flicker of emotion crossing his young face. “Then why are you trying to replace her?” he asked, his voice low but edged with pain.

John softened, his shoulders relaxing as he reached out, placing a gentle hand on Herbert’s arm. “I’m not trying to replace her, son. No one could ever take her place. Your mother is part of who you are, and part of who I am. She’ll always be with us—through memories, through everything we carry forward. But that doesn’t mean we stop living, or close ourselves off to the possibility of finding happiness again.”

“I don’t believe in happiness without Mother. Neither should you!”

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yes. You can only love once. Marry once. It’s forever.” Herbert dropped his gaze to the floor, uncertainty flickering in his expression. “And only with Mother. Melissa isn’t her. She’s… she’s not Mother.”

“No, she isn’t,” John agreed softly, his tone unwavering. “Melissa is her own person. But she’s also someone who cares deeply for this family. Someone who could bring joy back into this home, not as a replacement, but as someone new to love. We deserve love. Even if it’s new, it doesn’t have to be wrong.”

Herbert’s brows furrowed as he wrestled with the idea. “It’s just… it feels wrong, like I’m forgetting Mother if I’m nice to Melissa. Like you’re forgetting her.”

John leaned closer, his voice growing even softer. “I will never forget her. And even Melissa knows that. She’s not here to replace her. But I hope she’ll join us. She wants to love us, as we are, with your mother’s memory still firmly in our hearts. Can’t we give her that chance? A chance to be part of this family?”

“I don’t want to. I’m loyal to Mother even if you aren’t.” Herbert crossed his arms as if to shield his heart from even the idea of Melissa.

“Perhaps you’ll learn to love more freely. These chances don’t come often in life and I want to take mine.”

Herbert was silent for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, he lifted his eyes, searching his father’s face. “And if I can’t? If it’s too hard?”

John smiled faintly, his own eyes brimming with understanding. “Then we’ll take it one step at a time. No one is asking you to feel anything you’re not ready for. But I’ll be here, every step of the way, Herbert. We’re a family, no matter what. You have my unconditional love, son.”

Herbert nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I… I’ll try to be a little nicer.”

“That’s all I ask,” John said, his smile deepening as he gave his son’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “And no matter what, your mother would be so proud of you. You’re an incredible young man, Herbert. Don’t ever forget that.”

Herbert didn’t respond, but for the first time in the conversation, his eyes held a glimmer of ease, his walls lowering just enough for hope to peek through. “What if she says no? She’s spoken for. She belongs to Prinny; isn’t she going back to Brighton?” Herbert uncrossed his arms, and John noticed he was still holding the ring.

“She’s not a piece of property; she doesn’t belong to anybody but herself,” John said.

“And yet, she’s spoken for.” Herbert hissed. Herbert was particularly testing this morning. “Why do you care so much about a ring?” But as John spoke, dread rose in his throat as he realized that Herbert might indeed have the intention—as absurd as it may seem—to use this ring himself.

“I’ll give it to Laura someday.”

“Laura Smith?” John tried to stay calm, but he was angry and ready to laugh at the same time. If Laura got a ring with such value, her father could easily sell it at half its value and buy a portion of land larger than the Duncan estate. “Herbert, listen to me. An estate with as much history as ours is often backed by a fortune that either matches or exceeds the value of the land we are responsible for.”

“So if you give this ring away, what will I have? I am not the heir anymore. What will I have to give her if you lose it all before I ever grow up to have a chance?”

John’s heart dropped. “Is that what you think of me? I lose everything? Because with Melissa, I think we’d gain everything.” Granted, he was risking much to be with her but that was neither here nor there in deciding whether to propose to Melissa. That wasn’t a question anymore, John wanted to love Melissa forever and make this castle her home, too. And although John’s resolve didn’t waver, he worried about how to accomplish the goals he’d set for himself.

Herbert’s eyes grew red and glistened in a way John hadn’t seen since his wife had died. It was as if he’d always had to look into her eyes, for Herbert’s eyes were exactly like his mother’s. And when Herbert cried, it was as though he saw her cry.

Meanwhile, Melissa was on her way to John’s study when the butler brought her a note.

“Lady Thumbridge, there’s a special courier for you from London.”

Melissa’s heart skipped a few beats. A special courier from London could mean several things. Her parents may call her home. Was one of them ill?

Her chest tightened.

Or perhaps the prince called for her. Her heart sank, and her arms felt heavy as she sat on the gilded chair in the hall.

The butler handed her the note on a pewter tray.

“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher.”

But as soon as she saw the gold-embossed head of a lion on the paper, she knew who’d sent the note—and that she had to comply with whatever it said.

Lady Thumbridge,

Meet me at the benches by the pond abutting the estate at the strike of noon. Discretion is of utmost importance.

D-L

She looked up at the grandfather clock on the wall next to the large portrait of the second Duke of Duncan, one of John’s ancestors. His cold stare made the blood in her veins freeze, and a chill caught her.

Suddenly, she felt like an impostor again. A guest. She hadn’t earned her freedom from Prinny yet and had made John the promise to become his wife. It was time to make good on that promise at all cost.

Only minutes later, without letting John know where she’d gone, she took her sister’s carriage that had been reserved for her and proceeded to the pond. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long.

Melissa’s heart had raced as she dreaded Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words, and now, sitting alone, she felt a prickling anticipation. Her cloak covered her entirely, its hood casting shadows over her face. She hoped it was enough.

Melissa sat on the wooden bench beneath a sprawling oak tree. She leaned back, then sat up, then leaned back, folded her hands, and clutched the rim of the bench seat—there was still no sign of people.

Something rustled in the branches above, and she glanced up, seeing a small red squirrel balancing elegantly on the thin branch. If only she could balance her life as these tiny creatures knew how to instinctively. With all her schooling and refinement, she didn’t know how to manage her life half as well as this tiny fluffy creature.

And what would become of Angus if she had to return to Prinny’s court?

If she left now, she couldn’t help Lexi; she’d leave Angus behind, and she’d leave John after all that had been said and done. No. Impossible. She wouldn’t allow it, and she’d do anything necessary to be John’s wife.

But she couldn’t get herself to return to Prinny.

So, she expected Mrs. Dove-Lyon to resolve the matter, break a match to make room for another, and then Melissa would be free to be with the man she loved. Now that Melissa didn’t doubt John’s feelings anymore, she hoped Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s plan would succeed.

And yet, waiting here, life took on a different perspective. She suddenly felt as though she had disobeyed the man in command, in fact, the very man on the top of the chain of command. Oh, and even John could suffer from his rage if he found out.

Indirectly, Dustin could be implicated, and the Dukedom of Duncan would—oh no! What if the doctors on Harley Street all lost their Royal Warrant? What if they fell into Society’s disgrace altogether and lost all of their patients as a result of a bad reputation?

Could Melissa’s selfishness have ruined the lives of all these people just as she’d feared?

She pulled her cloak tighter around her, the heavy fabric brushing softly against the grass beneath her feet. She recalled the note she had received that morning, the ink neat and precise, the paper smooth and expensive. She could almost feel its weight still in her hands.

She glanced up as she heard the unmistakable sound of hooves on gravel. A black landau-style carriage approached, its polished surface gleaming in the dappled sunlight. The carriage was elegant, with intricate gold trim and the same lion’s head on the door as on the letterhead. It’s large, dark wheels that moved smoothly across the path. As it came to a stop, a man stepped down, opening the door with a practiced ease. She’d seen him in London before but didn’t know his name. He was tall, with broad shoulders that suggested years of military service. His posture was straight, his movements precise.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon emerged from the carriage, her figure obscured by a thick veil that flowed around her like a shroud, but her posture and self-assurance betrayed the one and only Black Widow of Whitehall. She moved with a grace that belied her years, and the man offered her his arm with a deferential nod. Together, they walked toward Melissa, the man’s eyes scanning the park with the vigilance of a soldier.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon wore her signature black veil and she seemed like merely a wealthy elderly lady being escorted for a day in the sunny outdoors, but Melissa knew that she wouldn’t make such a visit far from London if it weren’t for the highest stakes.

She watched them approach, her heart beating faster. The man released Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s arm as they neared but remained a respectful distance away, his stance protective. Mrs. Dove-Lyon took a seat on the bench, her back to Melissa, and the man retreated a few steps, standing guard.

“Lady Thumbridge.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice was low but clear, carrying a tone of authority. “I am glad you received my note.”

As if there were ever doubts about whether her couriers delivered them personally.

“Yes, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Melissa replied, keeping her voice equally soft. “Thank you for meeting me.”

It seems I didn’t have a choice.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded, the veil shifting slightly with the movement. “There’s a matter of royal importance and a chance to clear your future if you still wish for it.”

Melissa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her worries pressing down on her. “I only ever wanted John.”

“Then there is a way to clear your obligations to the monarch. But you’ll have to act today. We have mere hours to accomplish the feat.”

With a deep breath, Melissa stood, her cloak swirling around her. The tall escort nodded, looked left and right, then offered Mrs. Dove-Lyon his hand. She walked back toward the path, the future uncertain, but the first steps were now taken. If only Melissa knew what would come next.