22. One Matchmaker, One Escort Manager
Chapter Twenty-Two
One Matchmaker, One Escort Manager
Meanwhile, in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office in the Lyon’s Den
Studying the report of the house receipts from the night before, Bessie Dove-Lyon heaved a sigh of relief.
Although her gambling concern was profitable, the debts she had inherited upon her husband’s death continued to vex her.
At some point, she knew she would have them completely paid off, but until then, she had to be diligent about making payments.
Despite the day being a Sunday, one of the payments was due by day’s end.
Collecting the necessary pound notes into a purse, she stood from her desk and was about to don her hat when a knock sounded at the door. “Come,” she called out, once she had the hat in place and the black netting pulled down to cover her face.
Titan stepped into the office. “I know you’re about to take your leave,” he said, “but I thought to inform you of a development in one of your matches.”
Bessie straightened as she pulled on a black glove. “Lord Wingfield?” she guessed.
“Indeed. I, uh, I followed them last night,” he stammered.
She hesitated before pulling on the second glove. “And?” she prompted.
“They had ices at Gunters.”
Smiling behind the netting, she made a sound of appreciation. “I am always pleased when the weather doesn’t deter a courtship,” she said. “How did they seem?”
He inhaled to reply but paused.
“Oh, dear,” she said, her manner sobering.
“Oh, it seems they’re quite compatible,” he assured her. “They left Gunter’s in his town coach and went to his townhouse in South Audley Street.”
“You followed them?” she asked in surprise.
“I did.”
“And?”
“I waited for a time. He emerged, apparently to dismiss his driver, and then reentered the house. Neither one of them left the townhouse whilst I watched. At least, if they did, they would have had to do so through the back door.”
Bessie inhaled sharply. “Now this is an interesting development. I would not have expected Miss Kingston to so readily accept Lord Wingfield’s advances.”
Titan cleared his throat. “I think she does because she doesn’t know he is Lord Wingfield,” he said.
Blinking several times, Bessie remembered her instructions to the earl. Remembered Catherine Kingston’s insistence that she would not marry an aristocrat. “Well, I did tell him to withhold that information,” she murmured. “But surely she noticed the coat of arms on his coach.”
Titan resisted the urge to scoff. “It’s rather faded, and the coachman was good about opening the door well before they got close enough for her to see it,” he countered.
“Well, if she has spent the night with the earl, then she is ruined, and she will have to marry him,” she reasoned. “Her father will be most happy. Another satisfied client,” she added on a sigh.
“Her father?” Titan repeated.
Bessie gathered the purse and her reticule from her desk and joined him at the door. “He is the one paying me to find her a match,” she replied.
Titan opened the door for her and followed her out of the office. “But… I was under the impression we sought her out. We paid those caddies to find her.”
Chuckling softly, Bessie sighed as they made their way down the stairs. “Only because her father didn’t know where she was employed,” she explained. “A few farthings was well worth learning where she worked.”
Feeling a bit bamboozled—Titan had believed their client was Lord Wingfield—he realized that all would end well if Matthew Higby did indeed end up convincing Catherine Kingston to marry him.
He just wasn’t sure how the earl was going to manage it.