Chapter Five
At the Lords, the next day, Duncan stopped Beaufort to speak to him privately. “Have you made plans for this evening?”
“No, sir. Do you have a need of me?”
“I must call on Mrs. Dove-Lyon. The Moreaus are passing forged notes at the gaming hell. I would wish to warn the lady and assist in preventing her business from going under.”
“When did we begin to offer our patronage to a gaming den?” Beaufort asked with a bit of sarcasm in his tone.
“When the woman and her staff saved my life,” Duncan declared.
“I know the Lyon’s Den is a gaming hell and a house of ill repute, but it also serves as a place of employment for nearly a hundred citizens of London.
I do not approve of some of the antics that go on inside the Den’s walls, but I prefer those activities to happen there and not on the streets.
Moreover, though Mrs. Dove-Lyon performs in a manner to taunt her critics, the truth is Colonel Sandstrom Lyon left her deep in debt.
Lyon’s Gate Manor was built by the colonel’s family, but it belongs to Bessie Dove-Lyon.
She keeps it and herself out of debt by doing what she knows best: the flesh and gambling.
In my opinion, she deserves our assistance, as would any other citizen of this great city. ”
“I had not considered the Den in those terms,” Beaufort admitted. “I know many that the lady employs are Irish, and I simply wished them to know a better life, but, as you say, they know a home and money enough to assist in supporting their families.”
Later that evening, Navan trailed Duncan and Alexander when they presented themselves at the gentleman’s entrance of the Lyon’s Den.
“Dining with us again, my lords?” Titan asked after he bowed to them.
“If it is possible, I have a matter of some importance with which I must speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon; yet, I do not wish to make a scene of calling upon her. It might be useful if you also attended my conference with your mistress.”
Titan frowned, but he showed them to the gentleman’s smoking room while he spoke to Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
As they waited, Alexander was more than a bit distracted, but he kept his opinions to himself, which was all Navan could ask of the young earl.
Hell, Navan had his own demons with which to deal, though he had never been one to air his complaints before the rest of the world.
In Navan’s opinion, Alexander Dutton was immature in thinking others gave a demme about his trials.
Everyone is for himself and himself alone, Navan thought.
After only a short wait of a quarter hour and their assisting Duncan in maneuvering the stairs, for his lordship was still weaker than any of them would like, they were shown into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office.
The woman stood behind an impressive desk, indicating her power.
Beaufort liked the idea; more than one strong man conducted business thusly.
The idea had him presenting the woman more credit than he had done previously.
Navan noted the slight shift in the woman’s shoulders when Marksman was introduced.
Thankfully, she did not have the same response when Duncan presented Navan to the lady, but her reaction had him wondering what objections the lady held to Marksman.
“You are the Irish lord, are you not?” she asked Navan.
Though he despised being constantly referred to as “the Irish lord,” Navan said politely, “Yes, ma’am.”
“There were a few Beauforts in my family tree,” she informed him.
Navan smiled obligingly. “From what I know of history, the Beauforts who came to England with the Normans were quite prolific.”
Thankfully, the lady changed the subject and instead issued Duncan her regards for Richard and Emma’s upcoming marriage before asking how she might be of service to them. They all sat in companionship, at least initially.
As was his nature, Duncan went straight to the necessity of their call while Navan studied the very sexual nature of the portraits hanging on the walls of the lady’s office.
There was a remake of Fragonard’s The Swing where the young gentleman concealed in the bushes sees more than the lady’s underdress, for she wears a cotton one without all the layers commonly found beneath a woman’s gown or day dress.
The one in the painting clung to her body as if it were another layer of skin.
Wet, his mind announced. As in the original painting, the woman’s hair was a reddish blonde, and while Navan instinctively heard Duncan ask of Honfleur being a regular patron of the Lyon’s Den’s gaming tables, Navan was imagining the woman purposely jumping from the swing to catch his hand so they might escape together.
Yet, it was not Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s L’escarpolette he saw in his mind’s eye, but rather him and the pretty redhead who had begun to haunt both his dreams and his waking hours.
Unfortunately, his musings were interrupted by Mrs. Dove-Love’s angry tones. “And to think I could have left you to die upon the bricks before the Den’s front door!”
Though he knew Duncan to be an excellent negotiator, Navan instinctively sat forward, prepared to defend his lordship. “My death would not have prevented this meeting, yet your assisting in saving my life is the reason I am here rather than the matter being addressed by the king’s guard.”
Through tight lips, the woman growled, “What do you require of me, Lord Duncan?”
Duncan said, “First, let us begin again. Is Lord Honfleur a regular at your gaming tables?”
“I see no reason for my confirmation,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued to express her dismay.
Even so, Duncan remained in control, and Navan permitted himself to sit back in the seat. “Are you aware the marquis is using forged notes at your tables?”
“Forgeries! Dear God, I am ruined!” Her despair was evident as she covered her face with her hands.
Duncan, as was typical, continued to calm the woman’s hysterics, while Navan forced his muscles to relax.
Duncan explained how Honfleur and Lady Caroline pretended to lose, but were happy to win a minimal amount of honest banknotes while losing a large number of forged ones.
“With your permission, ma’am, it might be best if Titan fetched the woman known as the abacus woman. ”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon motioned Titan on his way and said rose. “I require a whisky. Might I interest any of you in a drink? I also have brandy and wine left… Well, never mind,” she did not finish her thought.
They all refused her offer, and as she turned back to them, she took command again, which fascinated Navan. He always thought his mother would be able to handle any situation. “I half expected you had returned to claim Mrs. Sorenson after all, my lord.”
Ironically, Duncan frowned deeply. “I assumed the woman left London.”
Navan sat forward, interested in this bit of news. “Is this the woman who hoped to claim you as her husband?” he asked.
Both Duncan and Mrs. Dove-Lyon ignored Navan’s grin. Instead, the woman said, “I saw her on the street less than a week back. I was returning from the bank, and there she was striding along the street at a good clip. She carried a basket on her arm as if she were returning from the market.”
Caught up in the tale, Navan asked, “Where was this?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon appeared to enjoy having the upper hand on Duncan. She sipped her whisky before answering, “Not Mayfair, but not in the shops area. A street with large houses for the gentry and minor aristocracy.”
“You do not know the street,” Duncan accused, as if he thought the woman was simply searching for the upper hand.
“In honesty, it took me a bit to realize who the figure on the street was, having only met the woman once. When she spoke to me of you, she was dressed as a proper, mature lady. When I saw her recently, she wore a dark, high-necked day dress similar to those one might view on an upper servant.”
No more could be said as Titan and the abacus woman stood waiting in the open doorway.
“Have I executed something to displease you, ma’am?” the woman asked with her head down.
Navan despised this act of submission whether it was a female or a male. Were the Irish employed by Mrs. Dove-Lyon also so submissive? he wondered. He had recently viewed Honfleur’s effect on both the man’s daughter and his niece.
“No, Li-Na. In contrast, Lord Duncan has asked for our cooperation in discovering someone who means to use our home to defraud the British government. Is such not correct, my lord?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said in false sweetness.
While Duncan explained the method practiced by the Moreaus to lose the forgeries purposely, Navan began to wonder if the pretty redhead was part of Moreau’s scheme.
He surely hoped she was not, for he had become quite fond of her in a…
He could not think of a word to describe what he thought of the lady.
Assuredly not brotherly, for she often appeared in his dreams. The British government paid him to watch her and Honfleur’s daughter and report what he observed, but as demented as it would sound to say so, he would gladly watch the niece for free. Like it or not, she fascinated him.
When it was finally his turn to speak, Navan explained, “If Lord So-and-So finally recognizes the five pound note he has in his purse is a forgery, who will he blame? Not his tailor or the man at his gentleman’s club.
He will come looking for those that society already condemns.
Depending on his rank, he could have everyone in the Lyon’s Den arrested and transported for uttering fake banknotes. Such is the reason we are here.”
Duncan then explained how it was the government’s plan to confiscate as many notes as they could, removing them from circulation, and how the Bank of England would replace all the notes turned over to them with real currency.
“How do we identify them?” Titan asked, politely overriding any more complaints his mistress might wish to express.