Duncan smiled easily. “Lady Emma will officially be my new daughter soon. My Elsbeth would be beside herself with happiness, for our own daughter now will have a sister.”
Thankfully, Duncan did not mention Theodora’s prospects regarding marriage. Alexander did not like the idea of other men pursuing Theodora, but his withdrawal had been his choice.
“How might I serve you, my lords?” the woman asked.
“Hopefully, we may serve each other, ma’am,” Duncan said as he sat slightly forward, as if to press his point. “It is my understanding that the French marquis, Lord Honfleur, has spent several evenings within the Lyon’s Den’s main gaming room since the man’s arrival in London.”
“I make it a practice, my lord, not to speak of those who choose to gamble at my tables,” the woman said primly. “And if Lord Honfleur has insinuated that the Lyon’s Den does not offer a man a legitimate chance to win as much as he loses, I would know great umbrage.”
“Such is not the nature of my visit,” Duncan was quick to say. “That being said, though I sincerely appreciate your discretion in regards to such matters, I am not asking for your cooperation,” Duncan said in those tones he had once used when disciplining Alexander and the others when they were younger. “I am before you now requesting your participation in a matter of nationalsecurity, but, as an agent of the Home Office, I will be equally as satisfied to claim the Lyon’s Den for debts and run it instead.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s hands formed fists. “And to think I could have left you to die upon the bricks before the Den’s front door.”
“My death would not have prevented this ‘contract’ in which we will both engage,” Duncan countered. “Yet, your assisting in saving my life is the reason I am here, rather than the King’s guard.”
Through tight lips, the woman growled, “What do you require of me, Lord Duncan?”
“First, let us begin again. Is Lord Honfleur a regular at your gaming tables?”
“I see no reason for my confirmation,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued to express her dismay in her tone.
Duncan ignored the woman’s testiness. Instead, he said, “Are you aware that the marquis is uttering forged notes at your tables?”
“Forgeries?” she gasped, her anger draining from her body, as she collapsed back into her seat. “Dear God, I am ruined!”
“Not yet,” Duncan was quick to say. “It will take perfect timing and the cooperation of your chief staff members, but there may be a means to save your precious Lyon’s Den. Are you willing to listen to me, ma’am?”
“Do I possess a choice?” she asked, all the steel drained from her hard demeanor.
“Though my son Aaran always says all God’s creations have a choice, those of us with less optimism in our opinions know some decisions are not our wishes, but we learn to live with them,” Duncan said with no sympathy.
“What do you require of me, my lord?” she asked.
“We should begin by identifying someone within your establishment you could trust with the information I will share.If you think she is reliable, the abacus woman should attend us,” Duncan instructed.
“Titan!” Mrs. Dove-Lyon called out, and the door opened immediately.
“Yes, Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Titan asked. “You had a need of me, ma’am?”
“Fetch Li-Na. I require both of you to join us,” she instructed.
“Yes, ma’am.” Titan offered the room a bow and made a quick exit.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon said as she rose, “I require a whisky. Might I interest any of you in a drink? I also have brandy and wine left… Well, never mind,” she did not finish her thought.
Duncan refused, as did Alexander and Beaufort.
As she turned back to them, the woman said, “I half expected you had returned to claim Mrs. Sorenson after all, my lord.”
Duncan frowned deeply. “I had assumed the woman had left London, as you claimed she was no longer at the boarding house directions she provided you.”
“I saw her on the street less than a week back,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon corrected. “I was returning from the bank, and there she was striding along the street at a good clip. She carried a basket on her arm as if she was returning from the market,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon explained.
“Where was this?” Beaufort asked.
“Not Mayfair,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon shared, evidently enjoying having knowledge Duncan did not, “but not in the area with the majority of the shops. A street with large houses for the gentry and minor aristocracy.”
“You do not recall the street,” Duncan accused.
