Page 1 of The Lyon and the Lamb

Chapter One

Lady Aylsham Foundlings’ Hospital, London

“So—the truth of the matter, Mrs. Bellamy, is that you wish to purchase a child.”

Lady Araminta Lamb flushed behind her mourning veil. She’d known this negotiation would prove difficult but hadn’t anticipated the antagonism with which her generous offer was being met by Leo Chetwynd, Earl of Aylsham, Principal Trustee at the Lady Aylsham Foundlings’ Hospital.

He speared her with his hard gaze, his uncompromising mouth offering no quarter. She knew a refusal was coming and she didn’t know what to do. If this plan failed . . .

“Not at all.” She managed to keep the quaver out of her voice. “I understand that any foundling would be happy to be taken into a good home. All I’m offering is a generous donation in the hopes that I may adopt such a one—preferably a newborn. I wouldn’t call that purchasing.”

He steepled his fingers and gazed at her from the opposite side of the polished walnut desk. “In my book, that amounts to the same thing. You must surely know that the orphans here are not for sale. The yard in which they are currently playing is not a shop window. There would be a legion of legalities to consider even if you were considering a genuine adoption—impossible to adhere to when you refuse to give me any further information about yourself. Or had you intended the aforementioned sum as a bribe?”

Insufferable fellow! He didn’t understand at all. How could she tell him who she really was when secrecy was essential to her plan? The Lamb family estates, her sister Belinda’s health and her own future depended on her returning home with a child she could pass off as her own.

Was there no way to get around this stubborn nobleman? Perhaps she could talk to one of the other trustees of the institution—they might not carry their pride like some kind of trophy. They might actually recognize the business sense of the offer she was making.

“The matter is a delicate one, and I’m unable to offer you any further details. And I resent you impugning my character and suggesting my name’s a false one.”

He was half-right of course, damn him, since she was using her maiden name. But that didn’t make her a bad person. Did it?

He stood, forcing her to stare up at him so she could meet his eyes.

“Allow me to show you to the door.”

“No. Wait! I’ll increase the donation.” It would make life difficult for herself and Belinda, but once she had control of the Lamb fortune, the amount would be of no consequence. Indeed—if Aylsham gave her what she needed and allowed her to meet the conditions of her late husband’s will, she’d be able to make regular donations to the foundlings’ charity.

Aylsham clasped his hands in front of him, drawing her eyes to the gold signet ring he wore on his little finger. He rotated this a couple of times, despite it being tight on his well-manicured hand, and cleared his throat.

“I apologize if you think me inconsiderate. I can tell by your apparel that you’re recently widowed, and trust me—you have my deepest sympathies for your loss. But this plan of yours, whatever is behind it, is one you’ve not considered sensibly. I fully appreciate that grief can confuse both one’s mind and one’s heart. You should be thanking me for my refusal. Now, I’m certain you have other things that press upon your time. As do I.”

He bowed and indicated the door.

What a pompous prig! It was as well her veil hid her expression. She hoped. Araminta rose from her seat, her mind working feverishly. She needed to produce a child before the year was out, and it mattered not who’d fathered it—Horatio’s lawyer, who had more port in his veins than blood, hadn’t been clear enough about that important fact, leaving her a loophole to exploit.

The only other way to secure her sister’s future—and her own—would be to marry again. But after her grim four years of wedlock with Horatio Lamb, marriage was the very last thing she could contemplate.

If only things had been different! Belinda might have successfully delivered her illegitimate babe, and they could have returned from their secret exile with a child she could pretend was her own. Indeed, had she chosen to care for her husband rather than her sister, there might have been a faint chance of conceiving a legitimate heir. But only if she could have tolerated the touch of a bedridden, syphilitic man.

She shuddered. Intimacy with Horatio had always been torture—both physical and mental. Would it be the same with any man? Belinda had said not, but then Belinda had been besotted with her Lieutenant Coyle, who’d seduced her, then got himself killed on the Peninsula. Belinda had praised everything he did to the heavens. Oh, to be in love like that!

“Mrs. Bellamy?”

Dragging herself back to the here and now, Araminta ignored the tall man looming by the doorway and moved across to the window. Gazing out, she saw a bevy of small children playing in the courtyard. Poor Belinda! She still hadn’t recovered from the loss of her child, even though Horatio had insisted it would have had to be given away. Belinda’s thoughts were so melancholy, so muddled now. The last thing she needed was to lose her home because of the conditions of Horatio’s will.

But an irresistible force stood in the way of Araminta’s plan succeeding: Lord Aylsham.

She needed some thinking time. “Why do you have bars on these windows, my lord?” She touched them with trembling fingers.

Aylsham came to stand beside her. His closeness was oppressive, but she stood her ground.

“They are there for security reasons.” He sounded irritated. “Because this is my office. I don’t want you to imagine this place is a prison. The inmates get plenty of light and air.”

He was evidently a man of little patience. She could perhaps try cajoling him, but there was no point fluttering her eyelashes or moistening her lips, as her face was hidden by a black lace veil. She couldn’t lift it without running the risk of him recognizing her, even though she had no idea if they’d ever met before. Besides which, she’d vowed on Horatio’s death to never again be cowed or commanded by a man.

She winced inwardly. Horatio’s rule had been harsh and unrelenting. Her relief that he was gone was matched only by the dismay at discovering his will didn’t protect his widow as it ought. Although perhaps she should have known that would be the case with him.

“That’s as may be, sir, but the orphans can neither enter nor leave of their own volition, I take it?” Curse it—why had she said that aloud? She was merely provoking him further, risking the success of her mission.