Page 6 of The Lyon’s Lass

Inside, Maisy blinked into the dim room filled to bursting with men who smelled of smoke, and women dressed in their shifts who had surely bathed in perfume.

This was no place she could have imagined with her upbringing, but Luke tugged at her arm and she continued deeper into the hell. When he stopped she looked up to him to see that he was also looking up to where a formidable woman stood on the second-floor balcony as if appraising the happenings below her. She was covered in widow’s weeds including a veil, but she still looked like a queen standing court over her subjects. If her subjects were unruly lords that reeked of tobacco and drink.

Luke pulled his arm away.

“I will wait down here while you approach.”

Maisy frowned and looked up at the woman once more before squaring her shoulders and making for the stairs. On her way, a man stumbled into her path. She moved around him and only made it a few more steps before another man placed his arm across her shoulders to pull her into him.

She sidestepped and quickened her pace to get to the stairs.

But on the stairs she was stopped by another man. As large as the ones she’d seen outside. He lifted a brow that was bisected by a scar.

“Pardon me, but I have business with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”

He tilted his head slightly, looked her over and stepped to the side to give her access. Maisy let out a breath and hurried up the stairs.

As she approached, the woman turned and tilted her head as if studying everything single stitch and crease of Maisy’s countenance.

“Are you Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Maisy asked.

“Who is asking?”

“Apologies. I am Mais—that is, Madalene Bennett. Daughter of Lord Prevose, sister of Lord Blakehell—er, Blakehall. I have come to beg your help in finding a husband.”

“You’ve not been able to procure one the usual way?” she asked, and Maisy wished the woman wasn’t wearing a veil so she could see her expression. The woman almost sounded… amused.

Right. She needed to explain why she was untouchable by society.

“I had the misfortune of being lured into too much drink by a friend, and now my reputation has been sullied.”

“Perhaps this is no friend after all.”

“Perhaps not.” So far Maisy was not certain Caroline had helped her situation or made it much worse.

Maisy shook her head and then got to the point. “Can you help me?”

“What is it you are looking for in a husband?”

In that, Maisy had a very short list.

“That he be kind and willing to take me as well as my younger brother into his protection.”

“Hmm. And I assume you have a proper dowry to bestow upon the gentleman and cover my fees?”

Caroline had mentioned a price to be paid, but Maisy hadn’t realized the woman would actually want money. She’d been taught that money between women was unseemly, but she couldn’t care about any of that at this point. She only needed to get her brother someplace safe. Away from Nelson. When he inherited the title of Marquess Prevose, Jack would take on the honorary title of Blakehall, but there was no way Nelson would ever allow Jack to be his heir. He would send him away.

“Yes,” Maisy agreed quickly. “Thirty-thousand pounds. But I need to marry quickly. If I don’t wed before my father passes… well, I can’t be sure I’ll have any dowry at all.”

“Then let us see it done tonight, shall we?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned to the imposing man standing behind her and nodded once.

“Titan, it is time for a game.”

“Let us find a table for the night. Perhaps I can win enough to cover the costs of my new title. I’d rather not have to ruin a woman’s life if it can be helped,” Iain said to Hodge that evening.

For a moment Iain thought Hodge would argue, but then his brow went up and a smile came to his lips.