Page 5 of The Lyon’s Lass

“Oh dear, look at my poor friend. She is ill,” a tiny, blonde woman called out as Iain held the green-tinged lass away from him before she retched yet again.

A group of older ladies gathered round, frowning and waving their fans fiercely in front of their faces. At the moment, Iain would have been happy to have a fan himself. The woman reeked of wine and sick. Something he’d smelled more than his share of when his crew were overzealous at port. Still, he’d never seen a dainty woman heaving like a sailor before.

She looked up at him with watery, miserable, golden eyes.

“I’m so berry sorry.” She squinted. “Your face has hair on it, and you have eyes.”

He couldn’t help but laugh once at her pitiful expression. The woman was going to be in a world of hurt before she was better. And even then, this crowd that had grown by the second, would likely not let her forget her error very soon.

Her dark hair, which turned auburn in the light of the chandeliers overhead, had escaped her coiffure. Sweat was beading on her lip and forehead.

“You are right foxed, lass. Someone needs to get you home to your bed and give you plenty of water,” he ordered as if she were one of his crewmen.

The only response was a moan and the petite blonde woman came forward and tutted.

“Maisy, I told you that was much too much.” It wasn’t a scold as much as a pointing out of fact, and called out loudly toward the bystanders. But then she turned back to the wilting violet still leaning on his arms and frowned. “I guess I will have to get you home.” She looked up at Iain. “Since you are already spoiled, perhaps you can assist me in getting her into the carriage.”

The woman wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t very well go into the house smelling of a back alley in Seven Dials. His plans would need to be put aside for the night. While he wasn’t pleased to be shoving an over-ripe woman into a carriage, he couldn’t say he was sad to have a reprieve for the evening. Dancing and luring a rich debutante to her doom didn’t set well with him.

With the toasted crumpet laid out on the bench, Iain closed the door and turned for home and some clean clothes.

“What’s all this?” Hodge said when the footman let Iain in the door. Something he found annoying. He could open his own blasted doors. But he’d not fire the man.

“I didn’t even get into the ballroom before someone emptied their stomach on my silly shoes.”

“What kind of ball was this? I thought the nobles were to be a sophisticated lot.” Hodge shook his head.

“Mayhap, but no one is so high and mighty once they’ve fallen too deeply into their cups.”

“We’ll have to show these young lads how Scots drink.”

“It wasn’t a lad. It was a lady.”

“A lady? Foxed? I’ve never seen such a thing before.” Hodge raised his brow in that skeptical way he did when someone was trying to sell him a tale.

Iain hadn’t ever seen such a spectacle either, but then he didn’t spend much of his time in the company of proper ladies. The women he knew could drink a man under the table, Scot, or no.

With his evening plans ruined, he sought his very large and comfortable bed. He had to admit there were some things he enjoyed about this “lord” business. Like having a hearty breakfast waiting for him the next morning and the fine horse brought round to him so he could go riding in the park. But he’d never be part of this world. He didn’t belong here. He’d find the money he needed and take sail, leaving all of this behind.

Chapter Three

Maisy was still not feeling herself the next evening when Caroline’s footman helped her down from the carriage in front of a gaming hell in Whitehall.

“See? The Lyon’s Den. Just as I told you. Mrs. Dove-Lyon owns it and will see that you are spared. She will find you a husband.”

“I hope so, because after my performance last night, I’ll have no chance with a proper gentleman.”

“Proper gentlemen leave the ballrooms and turn up here for games. She’ll see you wed to a lord of your station. I’m sure of it. Freddie has told me many tales of what happens inside.” Caroline smiled and looked toward the door that was heavily guarded with men as large as the one she’d met the night before.

She shuddered at the memory. She’d never be able to remember the man without feeling her stomach dip and her cheeks warm.

“Very well, let’s go.” Maisy wanted to see it done.

“Oh. No. I cannot go in with you.” Caroline frowned. “I must not shame my husband by being caught in such an establishment. Freddie will have me sent away if I embarrass him. You’ll have to go in with Luke.” She nodded to the footman. “He’ll see you to the right person.”

The footman held out his arm and Maisy slipped her hand to his elbow. For whatever nerves were warning her not to step foot into a gaming hell, she was committed to this endeavor.

She did not much care about the man she married so long as he was honorable, and would accept Jack into his home.