Page 9 of The Lyon and the Lamb

“What are they doing at those tables there?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon snorted. “Some of the foolish things with which gentlemen amuse themselves. The empty table is one where they’ll be testing their strength against one another. It’s not too serious and usually ends in laughter. The table with the drink is another way for men to test their mettle—the jug contains an emetic. They wager on who can retain the contents of their stomach the longest.”

Araminta pulled a face. “And the other two tables?”

“One is for a cigar-smoking competition. As you can see, there’s a large bowl on the floor next to the table, a pitcher of fresh water, and a homemade garlic and honey electuary for when they can’t stop coughing.”

What a ridiculous way to spend an evening! Were any of these men adults at all? Why had they not left these foolish competitions in the schoolroom where they belonged? Araminta began to doubt she would find a husband here with whom she could bear to spend a single minute.

“The gentlemen lay wagers on the outcome of all these contests. The final table offers the game of Hazard, where fortunes can be won or lost on the roll of the dice.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon paused and glanced down. “You can learn a lot about a man by the entertainment he chooses.”

Despite her fuddled state, Araminta understood. This was all part of the show that had been put on for her benefit, the one that would lead to her choosing the man who would bed her tonight and father her child.

She had no wish to spend an evening rumpling the sheets with a man who had cast up his accounts or who smelled like an over-smoked ham. Where had Mr. Raven-hair chosen to go?

Go to the Hazard table. Go to the Hazard table!

The blond was testing his stomach. The gentleman with mousy hair had opted for the Hazard table, a definite point in his favor. Mr. Raven-hair was being ushered toward that table too, but at the last moment, he pulled away and strode back to the arm-wrestling challenge.

Disappointment tugged at her—she had hoped he’d do something more intellectually challenging. All the same, she found herself compelled to watch, especially as the games on that table seemed to result in such hilarity.

It turned out that cheating was perfectly acceptable, and the friends of each pair of combatants did whatever they could to distract their opponents. There was hair-pulling, mask-plucking, the filling of hoods with unpleasant substances, and the removal of chairs just as the combatants sat down to test their strength against one another.

Araminta found herself smiling, though she shouldn’t approve of such childish behavior. Raven-hair won his game. Of course, he did. With broad shoulders like that and a deep chest, he would surely win any game of strength against his peers. It was a struggle to tear her eyes away from him and see how her other potential suitors were getting on.

Blondie was casting up his accounts into the basin. Mousy-hair had moved on to the cigar-smoking and appeared to have set fire to his mask. Araminta rolled her eyes. If Mr. Raven-hair didn’t come up to scratch, this was going to be a complete waste of time.

The sudden boom of a gong made her jump and stare around in alarm. Mrs. Dove-Lyon gestured that she should remain seated.

“This is the highlight of the evening,” she said in a low voice. “Meet Petruschka.”

A new person had joined them on the balcony. She was attired in sparkling gold, but very scantily so. The full length of her silk-clad legs was exposed, her arms also—and the cut of the costume she wore was dangerously low. There were gilded ostrich feathers in her curled coiffure, and she held a bag in one hand. The costume was so elaborate, it reminded Araminta of a painting’s gilded frame.

The new arrival gave her a cursory glance. She wore no mask, but her expression was one of deep concentration. She reached for a short pole resting just inside the balustrade, and as it moved, Araminta realized it was attached to the ceiling by two ropes.

She let out a gasp as Petrushka climbed over the balustrade and launched herself into the air before swinging back and forth over the heads of the gentlemen. Everyone looked up, and her performance was met with gasps and applause.

Just the sight of her doing so dangerous a thing made Araminta giddy. But she felt even giddier when Mrs. Dove-Lyon announced, “It is now that you must make your choice. Petrushka has three gold tickets, each of which represents a prize for the gentlemen I’ve picked for you. Only one of these will be given to the man of your choice. The other gentlemen will get lottery tickets too, so they don’t feel left out, but that is of no importance to you. Lady Lamb—you have but a few moments more in which to make up your mind so Petrushka can deliver the correct ticket to the man of your choice.”

While Araminta was struggling to comprehend the decision she now had to make, Petrushka continued to fly over the heads of the gentlemen below, balancing on the swinging bar and taking up poses, some of which were decidedly provocative. Then, secure in the knowledge that she had everyone’s attention, she swung in a great arc around the room, opened her bag with her teeth, and scattered the contents over everyone’s heads.

Some of the men gave excited whoops and hastened to grab the tickets. Araminta desperately tried to find the dark head and gilded hood of the man who had caught her attention, but he wasn’t joining in the flurry of grabbing hands. Too proud to do so, perhaps? Would he make a suitable husband for her if that was the kind of man he was? Then again, maybe she needed someone who was out of the common sort. All the other gentlemen in the room would have understood Horatio and his behavior. Only a man who stood out from the crowd tonight offered the chance of a different experience in marriage.

Mr. Raven-hair was still watching Petrushka’s performance, while the rest were mostly engaged in reading and swapping their lottery tickets.

“Well? Have you chosen? I’ll need to have Petrushka pulled back and informed before she tires.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon spoke as if she presided over such matters every day. She could have no idea how Araminta was feeling—a fish out of water, a woman placed in a position in which she had never expected to find herself. A woman with more power than she was used to. The choice Araminta made would not only affect the future of herself and Belinda but that of her child and of the man who had come to the Lyon’s Den in search of a wife.

“I’m drawn to the tall, dark-haired gentleman.” Her voice came out in an embarrassing squeak.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon had one of her men pull Petrushka back to the balcony, then nodded to Araminta. “It’s the choice I hoped you’d make.” There was a definite smile in her tone. “You’ll find that you’ve spent your money wisely. I only ask that you use your time tonight equally wisely. Be the best that you can in his arms, but don’t reveal your identity. I’ll ask him not to speak, and I beg you to do the same. Your bodies will do the speaking for you, and then tomorrow, when you’re both sober, the true negotiations will begin. I swear on my dead husband’s grave, you won’t regret your decision, and nor will your lover.”

Araminta quivered at the sound of the word lover and remembered that she was naked beneath her cloak. It did feel rather sensuous—and fabulously sinful. Unlikely as it was, perhaps she might even enjoy the attentions of a man in whose best interest it was to impress her.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon whispered something to Petrushka. The performer nodded, then launched herself out on her swing again, and this time, she swung past the three gentlemen with the gilded hoods. She let out a loud huzzah as she approached each of them, causing them to duck in alarm. On the return swing, she reached into her bosom, took out some tickets, and handed them down to each man.

The dark-haired gentleman hesitated and didn’t collect his ticket until the third swing. At that, Petrushka let out a piercing ululation that gained everyone’s startled attention. Waving at them cheekily, she returned to the balcony, secured her swing, and disappeared into the depths of the house.