“And were you really next in line to be introduced to me by Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” she asked, almost hating to know the answer if he had stepped in much like the major.
The glass he was raising to his lips halted in mid-air before he lowered it. A frown creased his brow making the scar that ran from forehead to cheek more prominent. “I’m afraid not, my lady.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t owe Mrs. Dove-Lyon any debt at the moment, although I came close tonight to losing it all and more. If I am to be completely honest with you, I’m also not looking for a wife, though I’m presuming you are looking for a husband.”
What a pity, she thought as she inwardly wanted to cry out at the injustice of it all. Considering her earlier impressions of the gentleman, she had truly hoped that he was one of her candidates for her hand. None of the other men she had met tonight could compare to how SirKnight made her feel from her very first look at him. And now that he had stepped in to save her from what could have been a disastrous calamity with Major Dawkes, she was even more drawn to the man. She gave a heavy sigh, knowing her purpose for being here and that he, unfortunately, would not be a party to it.
“Angel?” He leaned forward in his chair and she wanted to reach over to push back that lock of sandy-colored hair that had once again fallen over his forehead. She resisted the urge.
“My apologies, I was lost in thought,” she confessed before giving him a slight smile.
“So, youarelooking for a husband,” he declared with a flinch.
“Yes. Why else would I be here, of all places?”
“There are any number of reasons… you might have lost at gambling and owe the Black Widow of Whitehall a debt. It’s not only the men who fall into her traps.”
Violet hadn’t thought that of that option. “I do not owe Mrs. Dove-Lyon a debt, but you are correct in your assumption that I am looking for a husband.”
He leaned back in his chair and finally brought his wine to his lips and then set the glass down on the table between them. “Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t have to hire the matchmaking skills of Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
A half snort, half laugh unexpectedly left her mouth. “This is not of my doing, I assure you. My cousin paid an obscene amount of money to hire the matchmaking skills of that woman to find me a husband. Apparently, my cousin has no faith that I would find one on my own.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he murmured.
“Since you owe no debt and have said you aren’t looking for a wife, then I’m afraid the only thing I can offer you is my thanks and gratitude for your timely arrival to save me from an unwanted situation.”
Sir Knight gave his own heavy sigh before coming to a stand. “Myapologies for taking up your valuable time, my lady, but I am appreciative for the opportunity to have at the very least a short conversation with a woman who is so lovely… and most certainly is an angel in my eyes.”
She also stood, flushing in embarrassment at yet another compliment. “I wouldn’t call it taking up my time, Sir Knight,” she replied, enjoying the nickname she had given him as it rolled off her tongue. She dropped down into another curtsy, knowing their time was at an end. “You did save me, after all. Again, I am most grateful and offer you my humble thanks.”
He gave her a bow and followed it with blink over an eye with a mischievous twinkle in it. “It was my pleasure to come to your rescue, Angel,” he answered before he began to take his leave.
When he reached the entryway to the garden, Mrs. Dove-Lyon was there with Violet’s next potential suitor. Her darling knight nodded toward the veiled woman before he left the area. And when the next man was standing before her, Violet couldn’t get over the fact that there was nothing inside her that gave her the reaction she had had when the last gentleman was in the same place as she.
It occurred to her that no man would ever give her the same thrill and desire. She might just end up owing Patience a small fortune for the rest of her days.
Chapter Thirteen
Only a halfhour passed before Gideon watched another gentleman leave the garden where he knew Angel remained. Shortly thereafter, he saw Lysander go inside and the lady followed him out, leaving him with the impression that the prospects for her hand were at an end… at least for the evening. He had a sense of relief that the last candidate left far sooner than the one previous to Dawkes’s intervention. And he still couldn’t explain why he had felt so jealous of those men.
Perhaps it was because of that first evening when he had seen the lady—Angel, he reminded himself—on the balcony. Ever since then, he had searched for her above among the other ladies of theton.
He shook himself out of his thoughts and reached for another brandy from a passing servant. As he raised the crystal glass to his lips, he noticed he had the Black Widow of Whitehall’s attention. Or at least Gideon assumed he did, since he couldn’t see anything of her features past that blasted black veil. But he believed she was looking in his direction and those thoughts were confirmed once she began making her way toward him.
Gideon gulped once the lady dressed in mourning attire cameabreast of him. She stood silent, which couldn’t be a good omen because only God above knew what this woman had planned next. But he couldn’t help the sound he made when Angel, along with another lady, came into view at the women’s balcony and they began to converse. A slight chuckle could be heard from the woman standing next to him. It wasn’t hard to miss even above the sound of the gambling room.
“She is lovely, isn’t she? But then I’m assuming you are well aware of such a fact given you have encountered the lady prior to this evening,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon stated as she discreetly pointed in Angel’s direction.
“We only just met,” he confided, lifting his glass to his lips.
The Black Widow of Whitehall turned toward him but as always, no matter how he tried to see even catch a glimpse of the lady’s features, nothing could be revealed beyond her veil of black. This woman could walk among Society in broad daylight without her veil and no one would have any sort of an idea that she was the owner of the infamous Lyon’s Den.
“Really?” she asked in a tone that could only be termed assurprisingsince a short titter emitted from behind the veil. “I find this extremely difficult to believe. You truly don’t know the identity of the lady?”
He raised one of his brows in wonderment not fully understanding why his comment seemed so unusual to the woman. “Considering your own rules about keeping the men and women separated in your own establishment, how else could I have previously met her?”
The lady no longer made any attempt to hide her merriment. “How else, indeed?” she declared before turning her attention back to the gambling room. “Is there some reason, then, that you chose to enter the garden without permission?”
“I saw Major Dawkes sneaking into the area when your guard left his post to help with the disturbance on the main floor. I thought thelady might be in need of assistance,” he answered.
