Chapter Seven
Gideon finished his brandy in the gentlemen’s smoking lounge located at the Lyon’s Den.
Leopold sat across from him and blew the smoke of his cigar toward the ceiling, then leaned his head onto the back of his chair.
Gideon chuckled at his friend’s relaxed state and began to wonder if they would ever leave this room to make an attempt at winning at the Black Widow of Whitehall’s tables.
From what Leopold had mentioned in the carriage ride over, he was more interested in partaking of the delights found on the third floor than gambling.
It was a well-known fact that Mrs. Dove-Lyon only hired the best women to please her gentlemen clients…
at a very high cost that some couldn’t afford.
“You mentioned at my townhouse you wanted to come to the Lyon’s Den to gamble and yet, on the ride over tonight you were more interested on the delights to be found on the third floor,” Gideon remarked, attempting to keep his tone normal and not sarcastic.
“Do you plan on us leaving this room anytime soon?”
Leopold put his cigar out before leaning his arms on his legs and folding his hands together. “My favorite lady is otherwise indisposed this evening,” he commented dryly. “Just my luck that I can’t partake of the delights she offers.”
Gideon shrugged. “There are plenty of others who would be more than willing to offer you the same services… at a price, that is.”
Leopold gave a low grumble. “I’d rather wait until she is feeling herself again in a week.”
“Ahhh… that type of indisposed.” Gideon chuckled. “I’m certain the woman will be more than happy to oblige you again after her monthlies are at an end.”
“Damn bad luck… it might be an omen that I am better off not gambling tonight,” Leopold grumbled.
Gideon rose to his feet. “Well, whatever you plan to do is entirely up to you but I plan to indulge my whim at the tables in the hope that the house may favor me tonight.”
“I might as well come along, if only to keep an eye on you. You are well aware that the odds here always favor the house. If you’re not careful, you just may owe the Black Widow a debt.”
Gideon shuddered as he picked his empty glass up from the table.
“Let’s not project a bad omen for me. Instead, let’s each grab another brandy and head into the gambling room.
” A servant came to fill their glasses and then they made their way through the doorway and into the main gambling room.
A door opened to their right and he noticed Mrs. Dove-Lyon exiting her private office.
She nodded in Gideon’s direction. “Captain Tyler. Mr. Ford. How nice to see you again. Good luck at my tables tonight.”
Gideon only had time to give a short bow before the woman left to mingle with her gentlemen guests.
As he continued forward a woman on the observation gallery above lifted a flute of champagne to her lips.
She was enough of a distraction to cause him to pause his stride while he took a moment to gaze up at this unknown woman.
Her blonde hair was swept up into a pleasing coiffure and reminded him of the color of honey.
Warm and inviting. Blue silk draped her body and a ribbon in a darker hue was tied beneath her breasts that peeked from the square neckline of her gown.
Such a temptation was surely sinful and he gulped hard, realizing how long it had been since a lady had held his interest. She raised a flute to her lips again with gloved fingertips and he wondered if her skin would be soft in his hands without the linen covering them.
She continued to stand there as regal as a queen as she observed the men below her as they gambled.
A solitary figure that made him wonder why she was all alone and without any lady friend at her side.
And then she turned her attention in his direction and Gideon swore time stood still as she examined him with what might be interest. What color were those eyes of hers?
Blue, perhaps? From this distance it was hard to tell but he swore that he had never seen a lovelier lady in his entire life.
And then the realization of his station in life made him once again regret that he held no title and was only a scarred second son.
He adjusted the patch over his eye to ensure it was still in place.
“Who is that?” Leopold said, clearly interested in the woman, and Gideon gave a start. He’d forgotten that his friend was even by his side.
“Never seen her before,” Gideon mumbled, still unable to take his eyes off the beauty above them.
“She must be in the market for a husband if she’s standing there by herself. Obviously Mrs. Dove-Lyon wants this lady to be seen so she can make a possible match.”
Gideon watched as the woman finally tore her eyes away from his as though breaking the spell that had momentarily connected them. She left the balcony and with her leaving, a gaggle of women immediately took her place at the railing.
“Let’s go find a game to play,” he replied instead of continuing to ponder the lady’s identity.
There was no sense in being too curious about who she was, after all.
He wasn’t planning to marry any time soon and, even if he was, the woman was above him in rank as well because she was in the balcony.
He took one last look at the gallery before finally sitting down at a table but he couldn’t help himself from taking another peek, as he played now and then, just to see if she would reappear.
After several rounds of cards where his money fluctuated from being a loss into a gain and then a loss again, Gideon decided he had had enough of games that held little interest this evening.
He picked up the rest of his winnings and left the table but as he turned, a gentleman rudely bumped into him, causing Gideon to wonder if this was done on purpose.
“Captain Tyler…” the man sneered in a low voice, dripping with contempt.
“It’s been a while.” His false smile across his face was one Gideon had seen before.
It caused him to clench his teeth as a vein began throbbing in his forehead.
“Captain Dawkes,” he finally managed to reply.
He wanted to take his hand to his brow to rub at the pain, but refused to let Dawkes see his distress.
“Didn’t you hear… I was promoted to major during the battle at Waterloo,” his nemesis exclaimed with an ugly laugh. “Weren’t you injured during the battle?”
He gave the man standing next to him a sideways glance before turning his head to stare at anything or anyone else in the room. “Since you were in my company and under my command, I can only assume you are perfectly aware of my situation and that it doesn’t bear repeating.”
“We did wonder if you had defected since you couldn’t be found after the battle. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had committed such a cowardly act,” Dawkes taunted.
He turned to stare directly at the vile man. “As you can see for yourself, I have returned home safe and sound.”
Dawkes pointed toward Gideon’s forehead and moved his finger downward, following the line of the scar. “And I can see you have the remnants of the war that will remain with you for a lifetime. How unfortunate. You used to be a decent looking fellow.”
Gideon was about to offer a sharp retort when he came to the realization that this was exactly what Dawkes wanted. A reaction that was reminiscent of their past discrepancies when he bitterly complained after he was passed over, time and time again, while Gideon moved up in the ranks before him.
Even now, Dawkes gave a short chuckle, reminding of Gideon how the man had been trying to measure up to him during their entire army careers. It had only taken Gideon’s injury and disappearance for Dawkes to finally rise above the rank of captain and take his place.
“Indeed. Enjoy your evening, Dawkes. I’m certain you’ll find Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s tables to your liking,” Gideon said, refusing to take the bait and get into an altercation, or allow Dawkes to gloat any further. Instead, he turned and left the man to find Leopold.
A passing servant offered Gideon a drink. He gladly took the crystal glass and raised it to his lips. Over the rim, he watched as Dawkes went to sit at a table and began to play cards.
Once again, his scar began to throb as he continued to observe his old rival.
Brief flickers of memory with Dawkes rushed across his mind but seemed jumbled from any sort of reality Gideon could put together.
He could only ponder the reasoning behind such a happening and prayed that eventually something would begin to make sense of the missing years that had taken his memory.
The scar, much as Dawkes had reminded him, would forever remain.