Page 5 of Lyon on the Loose

“You’ll be rewarded appropriately,” she continued. “But in addition, this assignment may help restore your reputation.”

He frowned. “Then you know about the infernal book at White’s.”

“I know everything worth knowing that happens in London, including the wagers of foolish men.”

“I rather thought you did. I await your orders.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon withdrew some papers from her desk. “This concerns an old matter. Many years ago, before my marriage, I had a friend, a charming creature named Beatrice.”

“Lady Beatrice Ashby, I assume?”

“Exactly. Lady Beatrice and I were once as close as sisters. Until, that is, a sapphire-and-diamond necklace of mine disappeared from my dressing table after one of her visits. At that time, I could not accuse a person whose family was so powerful. I haven’t seen her in years, and I have no idea if she has ever worn the jewels in public, or even if she still has them—she may have sold them to get her out of a temporary difficulty—but that is of no great matter.”

“You want me to retrieve the jewels for you?”

“In essence, yes. You will travel to Mundlingham Castle, the Ashby family seat in Suffolk. You’ll obtain the post of secretary—I assume that your writing and arithmetic are sound, since you have some experience in estate management. I wish you to find that necklace and return it, as it’s of great sentimental value to me.”

“Forgive me, but if this happened years ago, why do you want it back now?”

The veiled head lifted, and he was aware that his question was not welcome. “That is something that concerns only myself. Will you take my commission?”

Of course he was going to undertake her commission! It would get him out of Town, put that nasty wager at White’s behind him, and ensure he could avoid Henry Sutton while he plotted the villain’s downfall. It would also make him feel more like a useful member of society and less like the kind of wastrel younger son the young lady who’d invaded his carriage considered him to be.

“I most certainly will, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I am yours to command.”

“Good. My manager, Titan, will arrange your conveyance. You must travel under an assumed name. And take care—Lady Beatrice is not without intelligence.”

“Neither am I, I hope!” Roland rose and bowed. “You have my word, Mrs. Dove-Lyon—I shall return your stolen sapphire necklace.”

She handed in the papers. “Thank you. I knew you would.”

It wasn’t until he’d made his way to the gentlemen’s lounge to join his friend that he realized no precise payment had been settled on. Well, that was Mrs. Dove-Lyon all over—one might almost think she enjoyed being mysterious. One thing he could be certain of, though, was that she generally did the right thing and that she was—almost always—to be trusted.

“Greetings!” Melhuish exclaimed. “You look positively purposeful. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s doing? Let me fill a glass for you.”

“I’ve received a commission. A bit of light subterfuge—a missing trinket and a score to settle. Precisely the thing to occupy a man of my unique talents.”

“Your unique talents?” Melhuish grinned. “You mean your ability to land yourself in scrapes and somehow emerge with your Hessians still shining, your dignity intact, and a bevy of admiring women by your side?”

Roland raised his glass in salute. Not even Melhuish’s teasing could destroy his good mood. “Exactly so.”

Melhuish chuckled. “Oh, to be you, Chetwynd. Handsome, reckless, and incurably romantic in your pursuit of adventure. Perhaps it’s time for you to take a wife and calm down before you get yourself into serious trouble.”

Roland winced. “A wife? Certainly not. Not until the gentlemen of White’s rescind their wager.”

“Then you’d better find a lady to make them eat their words, one with both spirit and sense.”

And one who has never courted any scandal. Roland thought of Lissy, the flash of her blue eyes, the sting of her tongue, and an unexpected heat crawled up his neck. Why had that accursed woman lingered in his mind? It was most inconvenient.

“Spirit is quite common amongst women. Sense, I find, is rather rarer.”

“I hear you got into an altercation with some lowlife fellow—was he not formerly married to one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s kitchen staff, or something?”

News got around frighteningly quickly. It was for the best that Roland was leaving London. And he was going to have to be quick and subtle about it, or word would get around about that too, and his foray into espionage up in Suffolk would be common knowledge before he could achieve a thing.

“Henry Sutton is a thorn in my side. I don’t know why he blames me for everything—Darvill had just as much a hand in separating him from his actress friend as I did. I don’t know why he can’t just go off and do something useful—he’s wasting his time threatening us. I’m not sure he understands the power wielded by the nobility.”

Melhuish ran a finger around the edge of his glass. “Perhaps you don’t understand the power wielded by London’s underclass—they have an ability to get everywhere and know everything. The best way to deal with men like Mr. Sutton is to send them off to the colonies where they can start afresh. But unfortunately, many of them seem unwilling to go.”