Chapter Five #2
The girl had stopped at a door, and now she gave a cursory glance over her shoulder to make sure Cat was there before she knocked.
A melodious voice called for entry, and the girl opened the door and stepped back to allow Cat to enter, which she did.
Only to stop just inside, as the door closed behind her.
There was a woman seated at a table in a room that could be described as cozy. A fire burned in the hearth and sent flickering shadows over fashionably wallpapered walls and the paintings hanging upon them.
But her gaze quickly skipped over the details in the room and returned to the woman in the midst of it.
She was seated before a table on which a tray had been placed with all the accoutrements of teamaking.
There was steam rising from the spout of a teapot.
Cat knew at once that this woman was the Black Widow, because she wore a thick black veil over her face, her features no more than a pale blur behind the material.
Even the color of her hair was hidden. It could have felt intimidating, but Cat refused to be intimidated.
She moved toward the woman, who spoke.
“Lady Catriona MacKenzie, I presume. Tea?” She reached for the gleaming silver teapot with its matching silver milk jug and sugar bowl. Clearly Mrs. Dove-Lyon took her beverage of choice seriously.
“Thank you,” Cat replied. “How do you do, Mrs. Dove-Lyon? I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.”
“I do very well.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured tea into two cups with a delicate floral pattern and golden rims, adding a dash of milk to each.
She lifted her own cup and under Cat’s fascinated gaze raised her veil slightly so that she could take a sip.
There was a gold bangle on her wrist that looked heavy.
“Sit down,” she said when she was done, replacing the cup with a clink.
Obediently, Cat sat, pushing back the hood of her cloak as she did so.
She reached for her cup and took a sip of her tea, aware of the other woman’s silent scrutiny.
Would Mrs. Dove-Lyon make polite conversation, ask her how she was enjoying London, or would she dive straight into the matter at hand?
Cat suspected the latter, and she wasn’t wrong.
“What are these ‘wretched circumstances’ you mention in your letter? Explain to me what you mean, Lady Catriona.”
Cat took a breath and launched into the speech she had prepared for this moment. “My father is the Duke of Bonnyrigg, but you have probably not heard of him.”
The woman immediately interrupted, and Cat thought she smiled. “Indeed I have heard of him! Your brothers made quite a splash here in London. I think you will find everyone has heard of them and Bonnyrigg.”
Cat pulled a wry face. “My brothers are well known for making a splash. It is for their sake as well as my parents’ that I am here to beg for your help.
Long ago, my grandfather took out a loan with a neighbor, and then forgot about it.
The neighbor sold it on, and then that person sold it on, and so on, until now Lord Armytage has it.
He has demanded payment, or he will take our castle and our land, and we cannot pay him.
The sum is . . .” she swallowed and shook her head, “astronomical.”
“What do you know of Lord Armytage?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked mildly.
“He lives in the north of Scotland.”
“Then shouldn’t you be knocking on his door in the north of Scotland?”
“I dinna think he would let me in. But his grandson lives here in London. The Honorable Sinclair Robertson, known as the Master of Armytage. Have you heard of him, Mrs. Dove-Lyon? I believe he is a regular visitor to the Lyon’s Den?”
She bowed her head once in assent but said nothing.
Cat carried on. “I know it likely a remote possibility, but I want to appeal to the Master. To ask him to speak to his grandfather and persuade Lord Armytage to relent. To give us more time to repay this debt we knew nothing about until recently.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon took another sip of her tea and set the cup down again. “I am sorry to burst your bubble, Lady Catriona, but I don’t think Lord Armytage will listen to his grandson. He rules that boy with a fist of iron.”
It was what Cat had been half expecting. Sinclair Robertson had sounded like a weak sort of character, spending his useless life gaming and drinking. Why should he care about her family when all of his selfish thoughts were centered on himself? Her heart sank before lifting again.
Because surely a weak character could be manipulated? Give him some flattery, play to his inflated idea of his own importance? Cat could do that, sickened though she was at the idea.
“It just so happens I have recently spoken with Sinclair,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, watching Cat from behind her veil. “He informed me that his grandfather wants him to marry a duke’s daughter. And here you are, a duke’s daughter!”
“Oh!” Cat said in surprise. “That is true, I am a duke’s daughter.”
“I say this so you will know Sinclair is in the market for a wife. I think you would be an admirable choice. You are well bred, pretty, and I am sure you can persuade Sinclair and Lord Armytage that you are perfect for the role.”
Cat blinked at her. The situation was moving much too quickly for her liking.
Of course the idea of marriage had occurred to her but in a vague sort of way.
Seriously? To marry a man she did not know and would surely despise?
It did not sound like a recipe for happiness, did it?
But then she reminded herself that she was not doing this to make herself happy.
No, she was offering herself as a sacrifice to save her family.
Because wouldn’t she do almost anything to make that happen?
Mrs. Dove-Lyon was leaning forward now with her attention fixed on Cat. “Don’t you think if you married Sinclair you might have a better chance of persuading him to do your bidding?” she asked slyly.
Cat stared at that invisible face and for the first time understood just how formidable a lady the Black Widow was.
“I think a husband has a great deal of power over his wife,” she answered bluntly. “I would be reluctant to give that power to someone I did not love and trust. Who’s to say he would not marry me and then keep Bonnyrigg for himself?”
“Quite true. Many men would do that. But you do not know Sinclair. He is not what rumor has made him out to be.”
Cat had to wonder if Mrs. Dove-Lyon was being paid by Sinclair to find him a “suitable” wife.
Why else would she be so keen for Cat to consider marrying him?
She suspected the woman would probably say anything to get her way and collect her fee, because surely there was a fee involved in this?
But Cat would not let herself be bullied into making any decisions that she would later come to regret.
“Marriage would only be something I would consider if I were desperate,” she said firmly.
“And here I was thinking you were desperate,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon murmured, pouring herself another cup of tea.
She looked enquiringly at Cat with the teapot raised but Cat shook her head.
When the widow was settled again, she went on.
“I think you should consider my proposal. Lord Armytage wants a duke’s daughter for his grandson, and he may be willing to negotiate to get her.
And even if he doesn’t, I am sure you could sway Sinclair to your way of thinking.
Ask for Bonnyrigg as your marriage settlement.
That way you can save your family,” she added silkily.
“Do give it some thought, Lady Catriona, before I find him someone else.”
At that, she rose to her feet and Cat knew it was her signal that the meeting was over. Reluctantly, she also rose.
“Thank you again for seeing me,” she said politely, trying not to sound as if her spirits were even lower than they had been when she had arrived. “And I am very grateful for your suggestion,” she lied. “You can be sure I will think on it.”
“Don’t think too long,” was the sharp response.
There was nothing else for Cat to do but leave the room.
She stood outside the closed door in the shadowy corridor.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had not performed a miracle, and marriage would be Cat’s very last choice, no matter how selfish it made her feel.
But she was not a fool. Marrying Sinclair Robertson would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
She sighed, and then looked both ways down the corridor, trying to remember which way she had come. Despite the situation with Sinclair looming large in her mind her more immediate problem was: How am I ever to find my way out of this maze?