Chapter Three
The Lyon’s Den
London
Lex stood in a corner of the expansive gaming hall of the Lyon’s Den, sipping brandy and regretting his decision to listen to Basil. He wished he’d stayed home. Seeing his peers gambling away huge amounts of money, and in some cases fortunes, only raised his ire.
He remembered his anger when he’d found out the extent of his father’s gambling.
The damage that his father had wrought to the estate’s coffers not only threatened the family’s future but had practically destroyed his father’s own legacy in one fell swoop.
Lex had loved his father dearly, but he’d been left a burden that he had to fix—and soon—or he would be forced to sell off the family’s smaller holdings to keep the creditors at bay.
And the only way he could do that was to marry a woman with a fat dowry.
Lilting laughter from above drew his attention, and his gaze drifted upward to the second floor, where ladies converged and giggled behind fans as they played cards while peeking at potential future husbands grandstanding at the gaming tables below.
In his opinion, the women who idled over cards and other games of chance were no better than the men.
Should he find a bride amongst these frivolous ladies, he would insist that she give up the pastime, which he believed led many to rack and ruin.
He could never understand the passion people developed over gambling or drink for that matter.
He did admit that he had indulged himself in his passion for women in his younger years, while he was sowing his wild oats. But that was typical of most young men.
These days, saving his family estate took up most of his time, as did his seat in Parliament.
As a member of the House of Lords, he was often on the other side of prevailing opinion.
Especially when it came to the deplorable conditions of the poorest segment of society that lived in the shameful rookeries in London—narrow, overcrowded streets that although surrounded by wealthy and opulent neighborhoods, enjoyed none of the benefits.
Owned by various agencies, the lands were leased to unscrupulous builders anxious to capitalize on the rising influx of immigrant populations.
The tenements built on reclaimed farms and swampland were subject to no building codes.
Greedy landlords were allowed to build quickly dilapidated structures due to overcrowding and lack of structural integrity.
Because the land was leased, these freeholds would revert to the agencies of government.
The landlords, with no monetary incentive of increased value through sale, were not encouraged to build lasting structures.
If profit were your guide, you would find none once your freehold was up.
There was no reason to provide decent living standards without incentive or moral compass.
The rookeries were hellholes of thievery, prostitution, and the disenfranchised, who struggled to survive in a few fetid blocks of misery.
The slums teemed with Irish immigrants who’d fled starvation in the Great Potato Famine and Ashkenazi Jews escaping pogroms. These desperate folk had no spokesmen other than a few voices like Lex to defend their rights.
Hoping for a better life, some had escaped the violent discrimination of the Eastern European territories under the governorship of Russia, only to find themselves in circumstances not much better than what they’d fled from.
A woman veiled in black interrupted his reverie. “Lord Capel, I see you are not at the Lyon’s Den to try your luck in a game of chance.”
The woman who spoke to him was hidden from view by a black veil.
From what he could see, she had a fine figure and carried herself gracefully and confidently.
Her only ornament, a golden cuff, initialed B.D.L.
and set with sparkling diamonds, graced her wrist. “I’m afraid I have no inclination to partake in the sport of gambling. ”
“Then why are you here?” she asked. Lex could hear no judgment one way or the other in her question. She was as cool as a cucumber sandwich on a tea cart.
“If I might have a word with you in private, I would be much obliged.” His stomach churned with irritation at having to reveal his true intention to her.
“I believe that can be arranged. Give me a few moments to check on things with Hippolyta, my gaming master. I have a meeting before you. When I’ve finished, I will send Titan, my floor manager, to escort you to my office, and we can share a brandy and discuss your reason for being at the Lyon’s Den.
” In a swirl of black silk and a rustle of crinoline, Mrs. Dove-Lyon navigated the crowd, leaving Lex with nothing but the lingering scent of French perfume to prove she’d been there.
Basil joined him at the buffet and poured a glass of champagne. “Well, what did she say?”
“You don’t seriously think I would discuss this in the middle of the gaming parlor with all these rogues about salivating to catch a trifle of gossip.”
“I suppose not. So, what happens next?”
“In a few minutes, I will meet with her in her office and discuss with her my reasons for being here.”
“Good. Will you tell Mrs. Dove-Lyon about Annabelle?” he whispered.
Lex winced at the reminder of the pleasure-seeking muddle he had gotten himself into that had tarnished his reputation.
Before his father’s death, he’d been carrying on an affair with Lady Winchester, a woman unhappily married to the much older Lord Winchester.
Her cunning facade of “distressed damsel” had seduced him, and he’d fallen into her web.
He’d eventually realized her ruse, but not soon enough to avoid discovery.
Unfortunately, their liaison was found out and revealed to her husband.
Despite his mistake, Lex was first and foremost a gentleman, and he had shouldered the blame to save the lady’s reputation.
Fortunately, her husband hadn’t challenged him to a duel, because Lex would have hated to kill him in defense of his life over what was nothing more than a sordid affair, one that he deeply regretted.
The entire episode had resulted in Lex being shunned by many in the ton, and nearly cost him his seat in the House of Lords. As with most social missteps by privileged men, the whole mess had soon been forgotten and Lex’s social standing restored.
“It has been four years, Basil. I was young and foolish. The lady has returned to her miserable marriage, and the matter is closed.”
“Bess is a very astute woman whose agents keep her abreast of the goings-on among the beau monde. I would suggest that your honesty will further your cause.”
“I will consider your suggestion.” Lex slurped down an oyster, tossed the shell, and changed the subject.
“How’s your luck holding up, Basil?” While Lex never gambled, Basil enjoyed the toss of the dice now and again, but unlike others who wasted their fortunes on the tables, he was quite a nimble player and only partook occasionally.
“Not bad,” Basil replied. “I’ve recovered most of what the annoying little chit robbed from my purse.”
“Are you as curious as I am to find out the identity of that fearless wench? As I recall, her speech was more suitable to that of a gentlewoman. I wonder why she would risk her life for a few sovereigns?”
“Whoever she is, there is a rope in her future.”
“I wish that were not so. She was unforgettable.”
“Ah, another damsel in distress, and you are smitten. Let it go, Lex, and focus on what you need to accomplish: to find a financially well-endowed wife who hopefully won’t make you miserable for the rest of your life.
You might consider it an opportunity to save a damsel in distress if it satisfies your manly ego. ”
Lex chuckled. Of course, Basil was right.
Involving himself in the ill fate of a highwaywoman would only lead to trouble, and he’d had enough of that for any man.
If only he could forget the excitement rampaging through his body when her gaze had met his.
Alas, even though he’d professed otherwise, he was unlikely to ever see her again.
He only hoped she would refrain from taking such great risks again, for he would hate to see her arrested, or worse—shot in the back while trying to get away, or that pretty neck of hers hanging from a noose.