Page 20 of The Lyon and the Lamb

“After what has passed between us, Lady Lamb, I think we may progress to Christian names. Mine is Leo.”

“You can call me Araminta. My sister calls me Minty, but I don’t encourage it.”

Minty Lamb. Yes, he could understand why it might annoy her. He must fight any urge to call her by that hurtful name. He must fight some other urges too. Devil take it! He needed a clear head. She’d think him an idiot if he didn’t come to the point soon.

“If I tell you the reasons which persuaded me to do what I did, will you reciprocate? I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. Especially if we are to go ahead and combine our resources.”

Her hazel eyes were huge and troubled. She bit her lip, which inflamed him. He wanted to bite it too, to arouse the passion he knew was in her.

He ran a finger around inside his collar. “I come from an ancient family, Araminta, whose seat lies in deepest Norfolk. We made a fortune in the woolen cloth trade and rose to greatness. As you know, there’s been an upsurge in cotton of late, and heavy competition within the cloth industry. So, I decided to venture into cotton and muslin and invested in three cargoes of the stuff. Alas, the ships I chartered have failed to make port and there’s increasing concern that they may have foundered in a storm.” He clenched his fists. It pained him to expose his folly, his stupid gamble, to her.

He forced himself to continue. “Therefore, I find myself in financial difficulties. But it’s not only that which concerns me at present. There’s also an issue with the Foundlings’ Hospital. The place was so dear to my late mama’s heart, but now I fear I can no longer comply with her wishes and keep it as it is. Desperate action is needed.”

That sounded melodramatic—he didn’t want her to think that she represented that “desperate action,” even if she did. He went on to explain Pargeter’s intention of purchasing the hospital for the land, and how the only way to stop him was to either buy the place himself or pay off the other subscribers.

“With so much at stake, sir, I’m surprised you refused my generous offer,” she said after listening to his account. “It could have resolved your problems—but I suppose you were too proud to accept my money.”

“Not exactly. Shall we call it a misunderstanding?” She was right—he was proud. But he had no wish to confess to any further failings. Her opinion of him now meant a great deal.

“It later occurred to me that the constitution might be changed, under certain circumstances, but I’m worried that I’m running out of time.”

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Did she mean to expose all his secrets? He wasn’t sure he wanted to part with those yet. He lifted his chin. “If there’s some likelihood we might be married, you need to know that I’m fit and healthy, have a London townhouse as well as an estate in the country, and my teeth are all my own. I have been married—” His voice caught, and he forced himself to continue. “I was married to Elinora, but childbirth stole both her and the babe from me. I have not felt complete since.”

It was the first time he’d admitted openly that he was still grieving. Not even Roland was aware of it—perhaps he’d hidden it too well. Curious that he should confess his feelings so openly to a woman he barely knew . . .

“Would you wish to begin a family anew?” Araminta’s face was tense, alert. This was clearly important to her.

“Of course. Every man needs an heir, and I have no expectation of my brother Roland coming to anything much—pray, don’t tell him I said so! He can’t decide what he wants to do with himself and ends up wasting time gambling with what remains of the family money. I’d far rather the Aylsham estates went to a child of mine than to him. He’s a very personable fellow, I hasten to add, and I’m deeply fond of him. But he’s feckless—there’s no point making any bones about it.”

Suddenly he became aware that he was revealing far more of himself than he’d intended to. It wasn’t like him to speak so freely. What was there about this woman that invited confidences?

“I should like to meet him.” Araminta’s hazel eyes were earnest, and he found himself wishing she hadn’t worn a veil the first time she’d come to him. If he could have seen her face, he would have seen the honesty there. And the beauty . . .

He was being idiotic. The current circumstance was exceptional—he mustn’t give anything further away until he was certain she was to be trusted. And his heart must remain his own.

“Now it’s your turn to explain why you approached Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and took such desperate measures to land yourself a husband.”

She broke eye contact with him. “I don’t wish to dwell on my marriage, but as you already know, I’m now a widow and childless. There was a clause in my husband’s will which made it clear that I was only to remain at Forty Court if I produced an heir within the first five years of our marriage. However, the will was very poorly put together, because the lawyer who wrote it was, to put it politely, a bit of a toper. Strictly speaking, nowhere does it say that the heir has to be Horatio’s—it can also be mine. Thus, I came to you in the hope of adopting a baby and passing it off as mine and Horatio’s—that seemed at the time the best way to secure everyone’s future quickly, for I also have my sister’s interests at heart. I was then persuaded it would be better to marry again, and quickly, so I’d have the protection of a husband. It could be argued, due to the ramshackle wording of the will, that any child I had with that husband would still inherit.”

She paused, and a tremor ran through her. For a brief instant, she appeared as if she was frightened she’d said too much. But he was feeling too hopeful now to pay it much heed. She was not the scheming monster he’d originally believed her to be.

“Adopting a baby would have been deceitful and wrong,” she continued, “and I might have been found out in any case—Horatio’s relations are grasping and imperturbable. I hope you never have to meet them. Particularly his cousin Thomas, who stands to inherit the most.”

“I rather hope I do. I might have a word or two to say. They should be supporting the grieving widow, not trying to steal her home out from under her.”

Araminta glanced up at him as if surprised to find him on her side. She was going to need a lot of convincing of his good intentions. Like her, he should acknowledge his mistakes and learn his lesson with good grace.

“So, having heard about the services offered by Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I took the money I’d planned to offer the children’s home, and paid it to her instead, in return for which she promised to find me a suitable—and eager—husband.”

She’d paid Mrs. Dove-Lyon? How appalling it was that a good woman should be in such dire circumstances! He decided there and then that he’d find a way to reimburse Araminta. Or shame the Lyon’s Den proprietress into returning the money.

“May I ask what this devious matchmaker charges for her services?” He doubted that her costs would be reasonable.

Araminta flushed. “I’d rather not say.”

“Please?” He needed to find out all he could about this affair, needed to ensure that whatever he was letting himself in for, it would be with both eyes open.