Chapter Six #2
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon frowns on marked cards,” Titan said with a smile.
“I understand my brother is inside,” Aaran explained. “I thought I should check upon him.”
“I guarantee none of your brothers are within my lord,” Titan assured him.
“Not my Duncan brothers,” Aaran explained. “My half brother. Lord Boyde Graham, Lord Pitcairn. Up from his stepfather’s estate. Supposedly within, along with some of his friends from university.”
Titan nodded his head in affirmation. “They have taken on some of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s dares.”
“Wonderful,” Aaran grumbled. “I despise a drunken university lad.”
“Not as much as I,” Titan said as he held the door for Aaran. “They always grab at my lame hand for support.” The Lyon’s Den’s manager grinned conspiratorially.
“Or stagger into a man with only one solid leg and expect said man to keep them both balanced.” Aaran shrugged and entered the open door.
The noise of cheering could be heard coming from the direction of the gentlemen’s smoking room.
The rumpus became louder the closer he came to the open door.
It did not take long to determine the spectacle of one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s bets.
Seven men stood on their noggins—a small pillow buffering their heads against the highly polished hardwood floor—the wood paneled wall was being used to keep their balance.
Aaran’s eyes scanned the row of participants to discover Boyde to be the third one from the left.
“Time?” one of the participants groaned.
“One more minute,” Theseus called out. The Lyon’s Den’s bouncer held a watch in his hand.
“What is amiss?” Aaran asked as he slid closer to where Lord Joseph looked on.
Joseph shook his head in apparent disapproval, though the man was watching the melee, nevertheless.
He also handed another quid to Lysander, who was collecting bets after each round of a show of prowess.
“Three down already,” Joseph explained. “The fools must gulp down a beer in under two minutes and then stand on their heads for five minutes without burping it up or, worse, requiring a chamber pot. We are on the fourth beer in a bit less than a half hour. Their heels may touch the wall for one minute on and one minute off. If not, they are disqualified.”
“Thanks, Joseph,” Aaran murmured as he made his way to where Boyde and two young gentlemen that Aaran did not recognize were upside down. Though he did not recognize the others, Aaran definitely knew them all to be as callow and unseasoned as was Boyde.
“Thirty seconds, gentlemen,” Theseus ordered as the men remaining swallowed more of the mug of beer.
The other patrons in the room were cheering on different participants, which meant it would be more difficult for Aaran to convince his younger brother to abandon this foolishness.
Boyde burped loudly as Aaran approached and sourness filled the air around them.
“Hurry, Boyde,” one of his brother’s friends urged, and Boyde brought the mug to his lips again.
Aaran reached for the mug and tugged it downward as Theseus counted, “Five, four, three, two…”
“Hey!” one of the young men protested.
“I am his brother,” Aaran declared in warning tones that penetrated the young man’s stupor, as well as all those around him. “I say it is time that Boyde abandons this foolishness.”
“But, I want…” Boyde began before he looked into Aaran’s face and froze. “Aaran? Why are you here?”
“A better question is why you permit others to lead you around like a dog on a leash?” Aaran countered.
“Pardon, my lord,” Theseus said softly. “Will the young man be returning to the event?”
“He will not,” Aaran said before the others could respond. “My brother will be returning to his quarters. Send someone to ask Mr. Jamison to bring my carriage around to the rear exit.”
“Yes, my lord,” Theseus said with a bow. “And the young Lord Pitcairn’s bet?”
Aaran sucked in a steadying breath. “The amount, if you will, Theseus?”
“Two hundred pounds, my lord,” Theseus reported in soft tones.
“I will see to it, but, first, I am removing him from the Den. After I see him to his let rooms, I will return to speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
“Absolutely, my lord.”
Aaran caught Boyde’s shoulder to direct his brother towards the door and the hallway leading to the back of the great house.
“This is not fair,” Boyde protested as Aaran nudged him forward.
“When did life become fair?” Aaran growled as he gave his brother another shove. “It was far from fair to either of us for God to present us with our father and the legacy of his whoring nature.”
Boyde stumbled to a halt and pulled himself up in protest. “My mother is not what you just called her.”
Aaran had another opinion of a woman who married a man purely for his fortune and title, but he apologized nevertheless, though, of late, he had considered the choice to suit both him and Lady Freya.
He simply prayed Her Ladyship was not marrying him only for his wealth.
His Duncan brothers’ wives claimed the woman favored him above all others, which was truly a foreign idea for him to swallow and not choke.
No female in his life had ever placed him first in her heart.
“I am simply saying our father’s reputation did not present either of us with unstained family ties. ”
Thankfully, before they were three streets removed from the Lyon’s Den, the argument was over before it began.
Boyde was stretched out on the opposing bench seat of Aaran’s carriage and snoring loudly.
“I ought to let him sleep overnight in the carriage in the mews, but with the luck I have had of late, he would throw up all over the inside of my coach.”
Once Boyde’s valet had undressed him, and the servant and Aaran and Mr. Jamison had tucked Boyde into his bed, Aaran ordered a return of his coach to the Lyon’s Den.
This time he entered at the rear of the establishment, but, ironically, Titan was now at the rear door. “Do you never rest?” Aaran asked.
“I could inquire the same of you,” Titan responded. “What brings you back to the Den this evening?”
“My brother owes Mrs. Dove-Lyon two hundred pounds. As I expect to be removed from London for several days and then be traveling on to Kent for Lord Thompson’s wedding, I should see to the debt this evening,” Aaran explained.
“That is kind of you, my lord. Mrs. Dove-Lyon is in the ladies’ dining room.
You recall it, do you not, my lord? It is where we housed Lord Duncan after his shooting.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon means to begin remodeling the interior next week.
I believe she is simply checking her list to know what to expect.
She is a great one for her lists. You might wish to add your opinions.
Your ‘donation’ to secure Duncan’s privacy during that trying time is being used for the renovation. ”
“Sounds reasonable,” Aaran said with a nod of acceptance.
“I believe Mrs. Dove-Lyon has asked Miss Whitchurch to design the room, giving it a more welcoming atmosphere,” Titan shared.
“When did all this occur?” Aaran asked with a lift of his brows in surprise. “I was not aware Miss Whitchurch had such time to spare with all the wedding plans still to be made.”
“The future Lady Thompson even suggested they should use the furniture being built on Lord Thompson’s estate.
It seems the workers in Kent will also make metal plates to attach to the pieces so they may be more easily identified in case of theft,” Titan explained.
“Quite genius indeed of the Lord Thompson and his lady.”
Aaran did not think many would want any of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s property, for it was too garish for the taste of most of those who lived in London, but he supposed there were some employed inside the Den who would steal things from their employer.
The ladies of Society who occasionally frequented the Lyon’s Den would probably approve a more stylish atmosphere.
Less red and gold and more subtle tones.
“I should speak to the lady before she returns to her office. I would not wish to climb all those steps this late in the evening,” he said in excuse.
“My leg has had a good workout already today.”