Page 2 of Always the Lyon Tamer
“Going somewhere?”
Rebecca jumped. She had not noticed the woman come in, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon was smiling, as though she knew precisely what her guest had been considering.
Curtseying, Rebecca rose to see the proprietress of the Lyon’s Den laughing.
“You ladies of society are all the same, stuck to your rules,” she said genially. “Come, sit. You will always wonder if you do not hear what I have to say.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon indicated the chair Rebecca had just vacated, but she hesitated.
Was she brave enough to see this through?Did she have the lion tamer’s spirit to force John to see her for who she truly was, after he had courted her for so long?
Slowly, she lowered herself into the seat. It did not hurt to hear Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s thoughts, after all.It was just a conversation.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded as she sat opposite. “You never thought you would be here, did you?”
“No,” Rebecca replied honestly, and then, nerves overwhelming her, “Not that I mean any offense, you understand, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, it is just the Lyon’s Den is the province of gentlemen. It is most wild of me even to consider being here. My father has no comprehension I am here. He believes me to be spending some time with a friend of mine who is recently in London after being abroad for—”
“Calm yourself, Miss Darby,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said gently, raising a hand to stop the flow of words pouring over her. “I am not offended. You are not the first lady to come here with problems with a gentleman, and you will certainly not be the last.”
Rebecca nodded, twisting her hands in her lap.How did one go about this, then?All she had heard through the rumor mill was that for a price—and it was a rather hefty price, too—Mrs. Dove-Lyon could…well.
Solve gentlemen problems.
“Now, Miss Darby, you have come with a certain gentleman in mind, I think,” said Mrs. Dove-Lyon delicately.
Rebecca took a deep breath and felt her cheeks pink at the very thought of sharing such personal details of her life.Of her love.
“My mother died years ago, and my father is very elderly, and I have no siblings to support me or to make him see reason. So, I thought if I came to you, you could—”
“First things first,” the woman said emphatically. “Him?”
The fire threw up a spark, and Rebecca glanced over at it, a welcome relief from the penetrating stare of the owner of the Lyon’s Den.
This was it.Once she said his name, it would be out in the world for all the gossips to chatter about.
If they were not already talking about her already.
Rebecca swallowed. She had been raised to be a gentlewoman. No great name, nor wealth, but enough respectability to attend the Season as part of thetonevery year.
But now she was leaving all that behind. The Lyon’s Den was no small matter. Once she was a part of its world, it would not matter how good the rest of her life was.
There would be no going back.
John’s laughing smile rose in her memory, and she smiled sadly at the recollection. He was hers; she knew it. She knew they belonged together like she knew the night would follow day. Why was that so impossible for him to see?
Mrs. Dove-Lyon was watching her carefully, and Rebecca knew she had to speak. The words had to come out. Besides, Mrs. Dove-Lyon was surely the height of discretion. One could not manage her establishment without the ability to keep one’s mouth shut.
“John Lennox, the Marquess of Gloucester,” she whispered. “Brother to the Duke of Mercia.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon did not say a word.
Emboldened, Rebecca continued, “It was over two years ago now when he first invited me to the opera—well, it was the duke that did that, but at once I could see ’twas a ruse, for the two of us—John and I went on a carriage ride just a day later. Walks in the park, dancing at Almack’s, conversations during which we…I…”
Her voice trailed away.How did one encapsulate the courting of over a year in a few words?
“He was everything I wanted, but more than that, he was someone I loved,” she said softly. “But then…nothing. I-I wrote to Lady Charlotte, before and after she married the duke, John’s brother. She could not help me. And so I wrote to him.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s eyebrows raised, but not in judgment. Rebecca swallowed before she continued. She knew corresponding with a gentleman one was not related to was scandalous, but she could not stop, not now the words were pouring from her soul.
