Duncan’s shoulders also stiffened just a fraction, and Richard shot a quick glance to Marksman, whose eyebrows arched, only slightly, in recognition of Duncan’s irritation. “As my daughter and my ‘sons’ will each torment me with questions regarding this encounter, having two of the young lords present will save me both time and voice if Orson and Marksman hear the conversation themselves. Moreover, I would never have been able to have negotiated your stairs without their assistance.”
“I was told that you had recovered from your injuries,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “or else I would have waited longer to send you my request.” Richard wished he could read the woman’s facial expressions, but the veil she wore prevented his doing so.
“I am several steps removed from meeting my Maker, but I have only begun, this week, spending longer hours from my bed,” Duncan supplied.
“Then please be seated, my lord. If you hold no objections to Lords Orson and Marksman hearing our business, neither do I.” The woman circled her desk. “Might I offer you a brandy or a whisky? I fear I have no wine in stock in my office. Nor tea, but I could send for some if such is your choice.”
“I am well satisfied.” Duncan looked to Richard and Marksman.
“No, sir,” Richard and Marksman responded.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded her acceptance. “I pray you do not mind if I have a whisky,” she said as she poured herself a dollop in a crystal glass. “I despise brandy, but many with whom I conduct business prefer it; therefore, it is a necessary evil to keep in stock.” She turned to them then. “Please make yourself comfortable, my lords.”
Richard and Marksman took the chairs on either side and slightly to the rear of the one Duncan claimed, which sat directly before the woman’s desk.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat also and began to shuffle through a stack of papers and then straighten those remaining after she removed the one she sought. Richard recalled her doing something similar when he had spoken to her on Wednesday.
“If you likely remember, my lord, I had asked you to call upon me before the attack on your person,” the woman began.
“Yes, I am aware,” Duncan said. “When your first note arrived, I was in Dover on governmental business, but I came as quickly as I could manage. I am also aware of what likely is the nature of your request. Though I appreciate...”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon raised her hand slightly to interrupt Duncan’s denial of the woman’s services. “My purpose, my lord, is, first and foremost, my sincere apology. If I had not acceptedthe idea of a possible contract with a woman who styles herself as ‘Mrs. Mads Sorenson,’ I would not have sent you the note which brought you to the Lyon’s Den on that fateful evening.”
“Then you seriously expected me to accept an invitation to remarry?” Duncan asked.
“In truth, I knew very little of you, my lord, beyond your dedication to assisting young lords left alone in the world. Although my own family has deep-seated ties to England’s history, my ancestors fell out of favor by the time Queen Elizabeth came to the throne. Long before I came into this world. As you are not known to be one to frequent establishments such as the Lyon’s Den, I did not know what to expect,” she admitted. Mrs. Dove-Lyon suggested, “You likely know more of me than I do of you.”
Duncan sat in quiet reflection. “Naturally, in my position in the British government, we occasionally encounter an angry member of the peerage who has lost a bet and suffered the consequences. Yet, such is not our domain, nor would I condone our using our power to resolve a weak-minded attempt at amusement.”
“Perhaps I should place an advert offering ‘weak-minded attempts at amusement,’” Mrs. Dove-Lyon suggested.
“Do so at your leisure, ma’am. For now, perhaps we should discuss why you asked to speak to me,” Duncan instructed.
“Yes, I suppose we should,” the woman said. “A bit over two months prior, a woman called upon me to arrange a marriage to your person. It was odd for me, for, generally, my clients are young ladies of an age between those who recently reached their majorities and those as late in age as thirty. Most realize a gentleman or a peer is seeking a woman of a certain age to secure their line. However, the woman who called upon me was well past her prime years.”
“How old would you say?” Marksman asked.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned to Marksman. “Mature, my lord. As I am confident Lord Duncan has told you previously, a young peer should never ask a woman’s age. It is an unspoken law of being a gentleman.”
Duncan said without turning his head, “Wine and women both age well if handled properly.” To Mrs. Dove-Lyon, he said, “Please continue, ma’am. Why did this woman decide I would make her a good husband?”
“That is a most excellent question, my lord. The woman would not say why her interest rested only with you. She would accept no other possible suitors, though I named several candidates. Such was the reason I sent a message around to you. I wished to know, first, if you had an interest in remarrying, and, second, if so, whether you would listen to the possibility of my serving as your matchmaker. When I heard nothing in response, I assumed you had known great umbrage to hear from me. Then you and your ‘family’ appeared suddenly one evening, but I had yet to hear from Mrs. Sorenson a second time.”
“Has this Mrs. Sorenson called upon you more than once?” Richard asked.
“Naturally, there was the initial meeting,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon explained. “Then when I learned of Lord Duncan’s absence from London, I made an attempt to reach Mrs. Sorenson at the boarding house where she...”
“Boarding house?” Marksman asked, again interrupting the woman. “Not a terrace home or even a hotel?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon ignored Marksman, indicating she found his lack of control in his response off-putting. “At the boarding house where she supposedly let rooms, but when I sent Titan around to the directions the woman provided, no one knew anything of the woman under the name she provided me.”
“Then you suspect there was more to the woman’s offer than first met the eye?” Duncan asked.
“As I said previously, I have not heard from Mrs. Sorenson again, but my feminine intuition tells me she is not the type to abandon her idea of a marriage between you as easily as another might accept your refusals.”
“Then might you describe this woman?” Duncan requested.
“Strong-boned as if she had often toiled in occupations not associated with the gentry. Well-spoken though, indicating she had received a proper lady’s education. Dark of head. No graying. High cheeks. Green eyes. Not attractive in a delicate manner, but still the type a strong man would hope to tame. She wore no face creams or other beauty marks; yet her face held a softness, though one could easily assume she had often spent long hours in the sun. Mayhap such as an English woman who had lived in India or the West Indies for a period of time.”
