Chapter Five
At the Lords,the next day, Duncan stopped Beaufort to speak to him privately. “Have you made plans for this evening?”
“No, sir. Do you have a need of me?”
“I must call on Mrs. Dove-Lyon. The Moreaus are passing forged notes at the gaming hell. I would wish to warn the lady and assist in preventing her business from going under.”
“When did we begin to offer our patronage to a gaming den?” Beaufort asked with a bit of sarcasm in his tone.
“When the woman and her staff saved my life,” Duncan declared. “I know the Lyon’s Den is a gaming hell and a house of ill repute, but it also serves as a place of employment for nearly a hundred citizens of London. I do not approve of some of the antics that go on inside the Den’s walls, but I prefer those activities to happen there and not on the streets. Moreover, though Mrs. Dove-Lyon performs in a manner to taunt her critics, the truth is Colonel Sandstrom Lyon left her deep in debt. Lyon’s Gate Manor was built by the colonel’s family, but it belongs to Bessie Dove-Lyon. She keeps it and herself out of debt by doing what she knows best: the flesh and gambling. In my opinion, she deserves our assistance, as would any other citizen of this great city.”
“I had not considered the Den in those terms,” Beaufort admitted. “I know many that the lady employs are Irish, and I simply wished them to know a better life, but, as you say, they know a home and money enough to assist in supporting their families.”
Later that evening, Navan trailed Duncan and Alexander when they presented themselves at the gentleman’s entrance of the Lyon’s Den.
“Dining with us again, my lords?” Titan asked after he bowed to them.
“If it is possible, I have a matter of some importance with which I must speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon; yet, I do not wish to make a scene of calling upon her. It might be useful if you also attended my conference with your mistress.”
Titan frowned, but he showed them to the gentleman’s smoking room while he spoke to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. As they waited, Alexander was more than a bit distracted, but he kept his opinions to himself, which was all Navan could ask of the young earl. Hell, Navan had his own demons with which to deal, though he had never been one to air his complaints before the rest of the world. In Navan’s opinion, Alexander Dutton was immature in thinking others gave a demme about his trials.Everyone is for himself and himself alone, Navan thought.
After only a short wait of a quarter hour and their assisting Duncan in maneuvering the stairs, for his lordship was still weaker than any of them would like, they were shown into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office. The woman stood behind an impressive desk, indicating her power. Beaufort liked the idea; more than one strong man conducted business thusly. The idea had him presenting the woman more credit than he had done previously.
Navan noted the slight shift in the woman’s shoulders when Marksman was introduced. Thankfully, she did not have the same response when Duncan presented Navan to the lady, but her reaction had him wondering what objections the lady held to Marksman. “Youare the Irish lord, are you not?” she asked Navan.
Though he despised being constantly referred to as “the Irish lord,” Navan said politely, “Yes, ma’am.”
“There were a few Beauforts in my family tree,” she informed him.
Navan smiled obligingly. “From what I know of history, the Beauforts who came to England with the Normans were quite prolific.”
Thankfully, the lady changed the subject and instead issued Duncan her regards for Richard and Emma’s upcoming marriage before asking how she might be of service to them. They all sat in companionship, at least initially.
As was his nature, Duncan went straight to the necessity of their call while Navan studied the very sexual nature of the portraits hanging on the walls of the lady’s office.
There was a remake of Fragonard’sThe Swingwhere the young gentleman concealed in the bushes sees more than the lady’s underdress, for she wears a cotton one without all the layers commonly found beneath a woman’s gown or day dress. The one in the painting clung to her body as if it were another layer of skin.Wet, his mind announced. As in the original painting, the woman’s hair was a reddish blonde, and while Navan instinctively heard Duncan ask of Honfleur being a regular patron of the Lyon’s Den’s gaming tables, Navan was imagining the woman purposely jumping from the swing to catch his hand so they might escape together. Yet, it was not Jean-Honoré Fragonard’sL’escarpolettehe saw in his mind’s eye, but rather him and the pretty redhead who had begun to haunt both his dreams and his waking hours.
Unfortunately, his musings were interrupted by Mrs. Dove-Love’s angry tones. “And to think I could have left you to die upon the bricks before the Den’s front door!”
Though he knew Duncan to be an excellent negotiator, Navan instinctively sat forward, prepared to defend his lordship. “My death would not have prevented this meeting, yet your assisting in savingmy life is the reason I am here rather than the matter being addressed by the king’s guard.”
Through tight lips, the woman growled, “What do you require of me, Lord Duncan?”
Duncan said, “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.
Even so, Duncan remained in control, and Navan permitted himself to sit back in the seat. “Are you aware the marquis is using forged notes at your tables?”
“Forgeries! Dear God, I am ruined!” Her despair was evident as she covered her face with her hands.
Duncan, as was typical, continued to calm the woman’s hysterics, while Navan forced his muscles to relax. Duncan explained how Honfleur and Lady Caroline pretended to lose, but were happy to win a minimal amount of honest banknotes while losing a large number of forged ones. “With your permission, ma’am, it might be best if Titan fetched the woman known as the abacus woman.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon motioned Titan on his way and said 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.
They all refused her offer, and as she turned back to them, she took command again, which fascinated Navan. He always thought his mother would be able to handle any situation. “I half expected you had returned to claim Mrs. Sorenson after all, my lord.”
Ironically, Duncan frowned deeply. “I assumed the woman left London.”
