Chapter Nine
The structure aheadwas assuredly imposing, but, even still, Theodora balked at the hold Lady Emma had on her arm, tugging her along beside her. Surely, she had seen the building previously, but she had never asked of it, beyond when she had threatened to come to the Lyon’s Den and tend her father when he was shot, and her father had not once pointed it out to her.
“How did you manage to talk me into this?” Theodora dug in her heels and refused to budge.
“Because as you well know I am marrying Richard this coming week, and I shall be gone for several weeks.” Emma turned to face her. “You must learn whether Lord Marksman is truly your only choice, Theodora. Richard says Mrs. Dove-Lyon takes her matchmaking services quite seriously, and the woman has arranged more than five and twenty successful marriages among thehaut tonover the last few years. Richard even considered arranging a marriage with me more than a year prior.”
“He did?” Theodora asked in surprise. “We all knew he was quite taken with you, but none of us thought he had considered reaching out to you in that manner.”
“You are stalling again,” Emma said with a smile. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon is said to be more than a bit eccentric, but we are not paying for eccentricity. We are paying for results.”
“You simply wish to know the look of the inside of the Lyon’s Den,” Theodora accused.
Emma grinned. “Are you not curious? After all, Duncan and all his sons…”
Dora demanded, “Do not remind me that my father nearly died on these bricks.”
“I apologize,” Emma repeated. “I was not thinking in regards to Lord Duncan’s attack.”
Theodora glanced at the pale blue house with its many windows, each lined in white. “It surely does not appear to be a place of evil, though I suppose it is.”
Lady Emma countered, “People would have said the same of Lord Davidson’s home, and we both know the depths of his evil.”
“Let us go inside. We may always leave if it does not appeal to us,” Theodora said with a shift of her shoulders.
With a renewed hope, they approached the main door, only to have two men step before them to prevent their entrance. “You must use the ladies’ entrance, my ladies.” One pointed to the corner of the house. “Ladies’ entrance is there. Ask for Helena or Hermia. They will see to your wishes.”
“Thank you, sir,” they said as they turned in the direction the man had pointed.
“A separate women’s entrance?” Emma said with a giggle. “Richard said something in that manner, but he never elaborated. Are men and women kept separate once inside?”
“How am I to know?” Theodora said with more testiness than she wished. It was not Emma’s fault that Marksman was being so contrary.
Arm-in-arm and undaunted, they followed the man’s direction only to encounter a flight of stairs, leading to anotherentryway. “One final chance to change your mind,” Emma suggested.
“I may change my mind even as I say my vows,” Theodora declared. Then with a grin, she added, “So might you.”
“Never,” Emma said with a shake of her head. “This waiting to be Richard’s wife is maddening.” To Dora, her friend asked again, “Are we climbing the stairs or not?”
“Climbing,” Theodora assured, no longer hesitating.
Still holding hands, they climbed the stairs only to be met by two large-boned women dressed in men’s clothing. “Hermia and Helena, I assume,” Emma said in a voice full of confidence. Odd to say, Theodora was assured when stratagems involving her father’s investigations were required, whereas Lady Emma was bold when it came to situations that involved meeting strangers.
“Do you have an appointment?” one of the women asked.
“No. I apologize. We do not,” Emma continued to speak for the both of them. “We wished to speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
“The cut and style of your clothes say you could pay for the mistress’s services,” the woman said as she eyed them up and down in a manner that appeared to flummox Emma as much as it did Theodora. “Are you prepared to pay for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s expertise?”
“If all proves as we hope,” Emma said boldly, “we are in a position to pay the necessary fees.”
The two guards exchanged a knowing smile, but the one who had been questioning them said, “Please follow Hermia.” The one who must have been Helena opened the door, which led into a poorly lit hall, where the walls were covered in pink paint and gilt paper.
When Theodora stumbled to a halt before a gaudy painting, Emma tugged on Dora’s hand to keep her moving. “A replica ofLeda and the Swan,” Emma said softly.
“How do you know?” Theodora gestured to the portrait, as more than a bit of color rushed to her cheeks setting them tingling.
“You would be surprised what hangs on the walls of many of the homes on the Continent,” Lady Emma explained. “I saw more than that image when I was still as young as five. More than that since.”
