The Lyon's Bargain Bride

Chapter One

The clean scent of sea air shifted to the stagnant stench of the London port as Iain Douglas guided the two-masted brig closer to land. Before the anchors had even hit bottom, cargo was moving up from the holds of Iain’s ship, The Rue.

His crew was eager to get unloaded. With coin in their pockets, they would scatter to the darker parts of the city to find their entertainments until they found their way back to the sea once more. Some would gather again to sail on The Rue, some Iain would never see again.

“See the men paid,” Iain instructed his first mate and friend, Hodge.

“Aye, Capt’n. I’ve already made the notes in your ledger.”

Iain nodded. Normally it would be the captain who saw to the books, but Iain could not see straight when it came to letters or numbers on a page.

Fortunately, maps were already covered in twisted lines that somehow made perfect sense to him.

A skill that had come in handy when he’d sailed the king’s ships during the war.

Now he owned The Rue straight out, and not much more. But it was fine with him. He had no need for much more than food in his belly and the sea air in his face.

After unloading, The Rue would be moved out and anchored for the few weeks it would take Iain to plan his next trip.

In preparation for not being aboard, Iain gathered the few things he would need.

He’d find rooms in town and meet with the brokers, factors, and merchants he supplied goods to.

And he’d spend a night or two at a gaming table.

He wasn’t over-thirsty for the game, but he set aside some coin to indulge in a bit of fun at whatever port was home for that night.

Iain was finishing his packing when Hodge entered his quarters with a tap to the doorframe.

“Capt’n there’s a man here to see you. He has some documents and says he has business with you.”

“Would you stay?” Iain requested of his friend, who was already leading the man inside. Iain could read but barely, his writing was far worse.

“Mr. Reynolds,” the man introduced himself. He looked mightily out of place with his slim build and fancy clothing. Still, he didn’t sneer as he took a seat at Iain’s rough table.

The man got straight to business laying out a number of finely printed documents.

“I’m sorry to tell you, your cousin, the Earl of Kesson has passed.”

Iain was a bit startled by the news. He hadn’t heard from Thomas in many years. Not since they were lads. Tommy was only two years older than Iain’s twenty-seven years.

“It leaves the title open,” the man continued.

If he was shocked by the news of Thomas’s passing, Iain was even more surprised by this news.

“His younger brothers. David and Richard—”

“Also passed. Many years ago.”

“Certainly, by his age he has children.”

The solicitor shook his head slowly. And Iain knew more bad news was coming.

“The countess succumbed during childbirth, I’m afraid.”

Hodge whispered a “Good God,” into the silence that fell. At first, Iain thought it was in reverence to the loss of people he’d never met, but a few heartbeats later Iain realized what Hodge had already put together.

“Why have you come to tell me this news?” Iain asked, though he worried he already knew.

“You are the new Earl of Kesson.”

“The hell I am.” Iain held his arms out to indicate the place where they sat. “I’m the Captain of The Rue. I know nothing of being a lord.”

“Be that as it may, you are next in line.”

“Give it to the person after me. Say you couldn’t find me.”

“There is no one after you, I’m afraid,” the man looked around the room and let out a resigned breath. As if he’d settled on the solution. But the man was wrong. Very wrong.

“Then just let the title go back to the Crown,” Iain suggested. He may not know much about the peerage, but even he knew what the man said next was true.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it’s done, I’m sworn to His Majesty to find the next person in the line, and I have done so.”

Iain stood and paced in the small quarters, rubbing his dark beard while trying to figure out what he was to do with this information. Mayhap some good could come of these circumstances.

“Fine. Then I wish to sell any properties,” Iain said, thinking the extra blunt in his pockets could come in handy. Perhaps he could fund his next trip and sell the cargo himself, he’d make more than just a cut of the profits.

“I’m afraid Lord Kesson’s estate is only made up of entailed properties. A town home here in London and a castle in Scotland.”

“A castle?” Hodge said, sounding impressed.

“Yes, unfortunately the castle has fallen into disrepair and is in need of funds to put things to rights.”

Iain stopped walking and set a steely glare on the smaller man.

“You mean to tell me, you came here to saddle me with debt and a title I don’t want?”

The man didn’t cower, but after opening his mouth to answer, he had brains enough to know not to speak.

“Let it rot,” Iain snapped. “Tell me what else must be done and I’ll see it done, but I’m not paying a pence on a property all the way in Scotland that I don’t need.

” He’d spent his summers in the Highlands as lad with his grandparents.

He recalled the smell of heather and cool mountain air.

And recalled Kesson Castle faintly. As a boy, he’d always hoped to live there one day.

He shook the memories away. It was the salt and the sea for him now.

“That is, of course, your prerogative. I’ll inform the staff and the tenants they’ll need to find new homes and work.”

“Bloody hell,” Hodge muttered, knowing how unwilling Iain was to let people down.

It had begun when Iain was a captain in the navy and had many men under his command.

It hadn’t stopped when he’d taken on private work.

Iain always cared for his crew, made sure they were paid well for their work.

Sailed for land and a doctor if anyone fell ill or was injured.

It was what his father had instilled in him.

That a man cared for those he was in charge of.

Iain sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It seemed he was in charge of many more people than he’d wanted.

“How much is needed to set the castle to rights?” he asked, the words bursting out of him like a cannon ball. He couldn’t help himself but care, damn him.

“I’m not entirely sure, you could write to the steward for actual amounts, but I would say it couldn’t be more than ten thousand pounds.”

Iain and Hodge let out a curse that turned the solicitor’s cheeks pink.

“Where the bloody hell do you expect me to come up with that kind of money?”

“I can’t say,” Mr. Reynolds shrugged. “You could always do it the way the other poor lords do.” He paused but cleared his throat when neither Iain or Hodge took his meaning. “Marry a lady with a hefty dowry.”

“Bloody hell,” Iain cursed again.

Maisy Bennett clenched her fists in her skirts as the doctor explained that her father was not well. He’d not been well for some time and even before that, they’d never been close, but this, she could tell, was quite serious.

“He only has a month, perhaps two, before he succumbs to this wasting disease,” the doctor informed her.

Maisy nodded in understanding as she stared unseeing at the carpet in their drawing room. Her breath coming fast and her heart pounding. Beside her, Jack touched her arm and moved his hands.

Father is dying? He asked, having read the doctor’s lips.

Maisy nodded and they simply looked at each other.

Between the two of them they could count the times they’d seen their father on their twenty fingers.

Maisy and Jack spent their time in Cornwall, while their father and older brother—the heir—stayed in London or one of the other properties.

After her mother had died giving birth to Jack, she saw even less of the man until Maisy had come of age to be foisted upon the ton for Season after Season.

At three and twenty, Maisy had given up on finding a match, yet she and Jack had been brought to London with the spring as usual. Only this time to find their father ill.

While Maisy and Jack had simply been forgotten, their older brother, Nelson, had taken the brunt of their father’s every displeasure. She had watched the caring brother she’d once looked up to turn into a cruel monster.

“Does Nelson know?” she asked the doctor quietly.

“Lord Blakehall is aware of the situation,” the doctor used his title. One Maisy and Jack had changed to Blakehell when he was not around.

Will he provide for us? Jack asked, his eyes—the same light brown as her own—widened in concern. At sixteen, her younger brother stood over her by nearly a foot and was a few inches taller even than Nelson.

Maisy frowned. While Nelson might provide for her, she knew this would be Nelson’s opportunity to send Jack to an asylum. Even though Jack’s lack of hearing was completely Nelson’s fault.

Maisy often wondered if Nelson’s hatred of their younger brother came from jealousy at seeing how pleasant and happy Jack was, misplaced anger that Jack’s birth had taken their mother away, or guilt over the injury Nelson had inflicted when Jack was only eight years old.

Whatever the cause, Maisy knew Nelson would never allow Jack to stay on. Which meant Maisy needed to do something.

Marrying had always been her plan, but she’d never drawn the interest of a man who would agree to bring Jack with them to their home. She’d refused every offer, until no more were forthcoming.

Perhaps if she married someone beneath her station she would be allowed to bring Jack with her, but that would mean losing her dowry.

One thing was clear, their dark and dismal townhome would yield no results. She needed help.

She and Jack walked swiftly through Mayfair to Harding House, where they were quickly shown to the morning room. Caroline—Maisy’s very best friend—came bustling into the room immediately.

“I’m so glad you could come to visit today,” Lady Harding said with a smile. She had married during their second season and while her husband was older, he was kind and made Caroline content.

“We are in need of your assistance, I’m afraid,” Maisy said as a tea tray was brought in. Her brother—ever hungry—got up to make a fair job of stripping it clean.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“My father is unwell. The doctor thinks he will leave us in a month.”

“Oh, dear.” Maisy knew Caroline’s concern was not as much for their father’s condition as it was for the situation Maisy and Jack would find themselves in. “What will you do?”

“I’m not sure.” Maisy cast a glance toward Jack to make sure his attention was drawn elsewhere. “I will need to marry. Someone who will also accept Jack into his home.”

Caroline bothered her bottom lip with her teeth. She didn’t need to say what Maisy already knew.

“I know that plan has not worked out previously, but there has to be someone who would take a strapping boy into his household. He loves horses, he would be pleased to work in the stables. I just want him to be safe and happy.”

Caro stood and walked around, and Maisy noticed the way she rested her hand on her stomach. Maisy guessed her friend was with child again, but would wait until she shared her news rather than ask.

Caroline turned and tilted her head.

“You remember my cousin, Annabeth.”

“The lady who was caught out in the park with no chaperone or escort?” Maisy didn’t know why she would come up in this conversation.

“Yes. She is now the Lady Penbrook.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d married.” Maisy was surprised by the title as much as the fact she’d married at all.

“That’s because it was a hushed affair.” She shewed the staff from the room and waited for the doors to close them in before continuing. “There is a place in Whitehall called the Lyon’s Den.”

Maisy gasped. “Whatever do you know of such places? And why would you think I would want to go there?”

“You wouldn’t. At least, not normally. But… The Black Widow of Whitehall might be able to help you. She helps women with unsavory reputations find husbands. For a price.”

“Why would she help me? I have no unsavory reputation aside from growing old.”

“Then…” Caroline raised a blonde brow and smiled. “We shall have to find you one.”