Chapter Seven
The Lyon’s Den
London
Lex sipped the brandy that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had poured for him.
Trying to see her was useless, as she was veiled, her features hidden behind a black mourning shroud.
A quick glance around the plush office, with its rich fabrics and carved-wood-paneled walls, reflected the success of the Lyon’s Den proprietress.
“Lord Capel, as you’ve informed me that you do not wager, to what do I owe the great pleasure of your visit?”
Lex could not assuage his curiosity about Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
He’d heard the rumors of her tawdry past. Was it true that she was once a courtesan?
Rumor mills were not always aligned with reality, and gossipmongers could be cruel.
Lex was gentlemanly enough not to pass judgment on the misfortunes of others.
He had enough of his own to contend with.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, thank you for the exceptional brandy. I appreciate your welcoming me to speak with you on such short notice.” Lex cleared his throat. He could not hide his discomfort at revealing the reason he was here. “It seems I am in need of a wife—a wealthy wife, to be exact.”
He couldn’t see her reaction, which increased his discomfort.
She said nothing, and he plowed forward with his monologue, describing the dire circumstances of his earldom due to his father’s profligate ways.
Though it was disconcerting not to see her reaction, he appreciated Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s quiet attention to his words and lack of interruption.
Once he began unburdening himself, it felt better to lay his cards on the table, so to speak.
When he finished, he stared into his glass, his thoughts once more in the past, wishing he had not taken his father at his word and had inspected the ledgers for himself.
He could have done something while his father was still alive.
Perhaps the earl would not have had to die with such a shameful secret burdening him.
Lex had known something was on his father’s mind right up until the end.
Even while his father was fading fast on his deathbed, he’d asked if there was something he wanted to say to unburden his conscience, but his father just patted him on the hand and told him he loved him and to look after Mama and Tess.
“They’ll need your strength, son…after I’m gone,” he had whispered, his voice reedy as he drew his final breath.
For a moment, a silence hung between them as Lex waited for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s verdict.
“Lord Capel, I appreciate your candor, and you should know that your tale is not unusual,” she finally said, drawing Lex’s thoughts back to the present.
“Many of the best families have had to face similar challenges. Although I usually deal with women with tainted reputations, I have, on occasion, dealt with men needing to save the family’s legacy and find a way out of dire financial straits.
A marriage that enriches both parties with what they lack is advantageous and rewarding. ”
Lex nodded, sensing she had more to impart, and remained silent.
“I also want you to understand that many of the women who come to me were compromised by unscrupulous cads or existential circumstances beyond their control. They are not necessarily at fault, nor do I consider them tarnished. Even if they were, they do not deserve condemnation or to be made pariahs. We live in a society that does not allow a woman to make a lapse in judgment. In contrast, a man can trample the rules of decency and propriety and suffer no punishment or consequence to his reputation. It raises my ire just to think of it.”
Lex wondered if this was a subtle confession of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s personal trials and tribulations.
Perhaps that was why she’d become a matchmaker.
Hearing her speak of women who’d found themselves in unwarranted, undesirable circumstances returned his thoughts to the red-headed beauty.
He’d been so taken with her on sight that his reaction had been almost primal.
To think that she may have been compromised or manipulated by some cad made him want to find the bastard and tear him limb from limb. He wondered as well if fate or Mrs. Dove-Lyon could offer an opportunity for him to meet with the young woman again. There was no sense in beating about the bush…
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I met someone in your hallway, by chance, a young woman that aroused my curiosity…” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider how inappropriate the word aroused might be under the circumstances.
The Black Widow of Whitehall held up a hand as she interrupted.
“I apologize. That was an unfortunate error of timing. Those who seek my counsel are entitled to anonymity and an assurance that their business with me should not be compromised. Please forgive this abnormal occurrence. It will not happen again.”
Now I’m in a pickle. Dare I proceed to ask who she is?
“Yes, well, I appreciate your candor and assurances that protecting the privacy of your clients is your utmost concern.” How should I frame this inquiry?
Lex cleared his throat. “The lady in question and I had a brief exchange, and I wonder…if perhaps she is a client seeking a husband?”
“She most certainly is, but to be honest, the two of you are ill-matched. I take it that is the reason for your inquiry about her.”
Lex bit back his frustration and tried to remain calm. “And why, may I ask, do you feel we would be ill-matched?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon lifted her veil enough to take a sip of brandy. Lex wondered if it was a tactic of delaying her reply, weighing her words.
“The lady in question is not favorably inclined to my finding her a husband,” she said.
“It is at her grandmother’s behest that she is even entertaining the idea.
Her expectations for a husband are lofty, to say the least. I don’t think she would be open to a match with a man whose primary focus is finding a wealthy wife. ”
Lex sensed her discomfort in telling him this.
He could well understand that his position was less than desirable.
Damn and blast! He wasn’t entirely without resources.
He had managed to hold on to all of the family’s properties, and the title of the Earl of Capel was old and respected throughout England.
Nor did he intend to eat up his future wife’s dowry.
He had ideas about investments. He’d researched it for months, consulting with friends and trusted solicitors about solid investment opportunities.
This was when he was still contemplating selling off some of the smaller properties.
Who knew—he still might be forced to do that if this path came to naught.
“I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. A lady of such quality deserves to marry a man who could match her in all ways. But I am not completely destitute. I merely seek a wife with whom I can build a happy marriage and who brings with her a suitable dowry. Is that not a reasonable desire?”
“Yes, of course it is,” she replied with a smile. “But as I said, the young lady in question had a very long and detailed list of requirements.”
Lex tried not to grit his teeth and instead took a sip of his brandy.
“I do not know her expectations for a suitor, but I was pleasantly drawn to her person. And we had a most cordial, if brief, conversation.” That’s an understatement.
What you felt was an overwhelming attraction.
The kind of passionate obsession that men have scorched the earth to possess.
He nearly laughed aloud as it suddenly occurred to him that his visions of kidnapping and eloping with the beautiful lady were comparable to Paris’s abduction of Helen, which led to the Trojan War.
He cleared his throat and smiled, trying to keep his voice even as he continued.
“I understand that many of your matches have led to a most satisfying marriage, and some have even sparked true love. Is it impossible to assume that this could be the outcome in my case as well?”
“I will give this some thought and consider your argument,” she said with a coy smile.
“In the meantime, I agree to help you in your quest to find a wife. One with a munificent dowry. Whoever is chosen for you will pay me the cost and profit for finding you and the lady a match. I stress that my financial arrangement with the lady will be of no concern to you.”
All Lex could do was acquiesce to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s terms of engagement. If only he could find the red-headed beauty on his own, he might be able to avoid all this rigamarole. He could ask to court her on his own.
Another beauty flashed through his memory—the highwaywoman.
Good Lord. He would have to stop thinking about her, even though he found her equally as captivating as the red-headed young woman he’d encountered outside Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office.
Perhaps even more so, because of the risks she took.
He couldn’t help but wonder how such a woman would be in bed…
passionate…wanton…open to the kind of love games he enjoyed.
But no, he could not allow his fantasies to steer him off course. He needed to marry, and soon. The beautiful woman he’d encountered in the hallway was mesmerizing, and he’d felt an immediate and heady attraction to her.
Even if Mrs. Dove-Lyon agreed to a meeting, he would find out who the woman was before meeting her again. And he was determined to do so.