Page 67 of The Lyon Rampant

Epilogue

The lights shone brightly in the Ladies’ Dining Room at the Lyon’s Den. Their warmth dispelled the gloom of the rainy London street outside, and painted a cheerful glow on the faces of the ladies gathered around the table.

“What manner of surprise does Mrs. Dove-Lyon have in store for us?” Belinda had been speculating throughout the journey from the Earl of Aylsham’s townhouse, driving her sister—finally out and about after her confinement—to distraction. Annoyingly, there was nothing unusual about the way the dining room was set up or decorated to suggest what the surprise could be.

“I don’t like it.” Caroline Brent frowned across at Belinda. “Starling has told me all kinds of stories about what goes on here. The men have grotesque contests and get themselves into all kinds of deep water. I’ve even heard poison mentioned!”

Belinda exchanged glances with Araminta, then turned to her friend.

“I very much doubt she has anything like that in mind for us. We’re here to celebrate my recent wedding and the birth of the new viscount. All I’m anticipating is excellent food and company.”

The actress, Katie Richmond—whom Belinda had recently befriended due to their shared love of the theater—laid a hand over Caroline’s wrist.

“Have no fear, Mrs. Starling. I swear to protect you from anything untoward. The greatest danger is that the new Mrs. Darvill will fleece you at cards—play moderately, or you’ll receive a tongue-lashing from your husband when you return home. Tell me—why do you call him Starling now, when he used to be Starveling?”

“Starveling was his alias when he worked for Mrs. Dove-Lyon but his real name is Starling. Rather more romantic than the Shakespearean epithet, don’t you think? I don’t know where he’s gone tonight—he accompanied me here, saw me safely through the door, and then sort of . . . vanished.”

“He’s probably dived below stairs to see his old cronies,” Belinda reassured her. “He’ll be full of the news about the new veterans’ home my husband is setting up in Essex. It’s wonderful that Starling’s assisting—he’s exactly the right person to gain the confidence of needy, disabled veterans.”

Caroline grinned. “Yes. He’s so capable, is my Starling. Of course, as with any recently married couple, there are moments of doubt, but my heart tells me that a happy path lies ahead.” She rolled her eyes. “Just so long as Tom Haggar doesn’t get up to his old tricks. He’s a real handful, that child. I couldn’t have taken him if I hadn’t worked at the Lady Aylsham Home for Foundlings. Street children require a particular kind of discipline, you know, and despite what many people think, they react better to the carrot than the stick.”

“Thank you so much for agreeing to take him in, Caroline. Piers feared Tom would go to the bad after his mama died—it’s hard to believe a boy of ten is acquainted with virtually every criminal in London! Between us, I hope we’ve convinced him that life doesn’t have to be full of risk and that if he learns a trade, he’ll be all the better for it.”

Katie leaned back and flicked her fan open. “You’re all so charitable, so noble—you shouldn’t be consorting with a member of the demi-monde like me.”

Belinda tapped her ankle beneath the table. “Don’t say that, Katie. You know it isn’t true. And even if it were, there are at least two people in this room who could not condemn you for who and what you are. You have no husband to protect you.” She paused, making an effort not to blush. “Besides, both Araminta and I used unorthodox means to find husbands—although my sister still refuses to divulge what happened between her and the Earl of Aylsham within the walls of the Lyon’s Den.”

Araminta huffed. “Indeed, sister—I know you haven’t told me everything about your affair with Piers Darvill.”

Belinda tapped the side of her nose. “One always needs to retain a certain amount of mystery, lest one’s friends think one dull.”

“Before this conversation becomes too alarming, I suggest we change the subject.” Araminta shot Belinda a warning look.

Belinda refused to be cowed—she was too happy to worry about anything, even offending her sister. Life with Piers had exceeded her wildest dreams, and they were only a couple of months into their marriage. There was still so much she had to learn about him, and so many more things for them to experience and enjoy together. He was no open book, but their closeness had changed him—improved him. He was less irascible, more obliging, and far less intimidating. Put simply—he was happy. And she hoped he would forever remain so.

“What would you like to talk about?” Belinda asked her sister.

“I was wondering if you were planning another trip to Devon. Your last one put the roses back in your cheeks.”

It certainly had! At least, the return to London and getting stuck in the costuming room with Piers had. “Oh, yes—of course, we’ll go back to Devon. It’s a delightful county and I have family there. Piers’s parents are utterly charming, and I’m dying to get to know them better and find out more about what he was like as a boy. Allegedly, he was in and out of the mines all the time, like a little worm, his mama said.”

Araminta chuckled. “I can’t think of anybody less like a worm than Piers Darvill! I can’t pretend any interest in the subject of mining, so I’m glad he’s sold Wheal Betty on.”

“I tried to not care about it, but in the end, I couldn’t stomach the idea of all that lead being used in guns. It was a huge sacrifice for Piers, I know, but I think running a theater is much more enjoyable.”

“Thank heavens!” exclaimed Katie. “Sally and I have been promised some excellent roles for the coming season. But Piers is being a bit of a bore—for some reason, he’s decided that his actresses need protection from their admirers. I ask you—do I genuinely need a swarthy veteran standing guard outside my dressing room, interrogating my visitors and inspecting my flowers for secret notes?”

Belinda immediately leaped to her new husband’s defense. “He means well. We know an actress who was horrendously exploited by a feckless dockworker, and if it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone. I’m certain the bodyguard will relax his vigil once your gentleman admirers understand that you’re not alone and unprotected and that they should treat you with respect.”

Belinda took a sip of her lemonade. The actress in question, Charlotte Lavoisier, was too close for comfort. She was now working in the Lyon’s Den kitchen and had almost certainly cooked some of the meal for which they were waiting. Perhaps, one day, she might learn to like the woman, but it was proving hard to entirely forgive her for the hurt she’d caused to Piers.

What had happened to the food, anyway? Surely the soup should have arrived by now? Mrs. Dove-Lyon herself had offered to host this small gathering, in celebration of what she no doubt considered a most successful piece of matchmaking. In which case, she must want to impress Countess Aylsham and the new Mrs. Darvill, not keep them waiting for their meals. Unless the delay was connected with the promised “surprise.”

Caroline sighed. “I know it’s probably rude to comment on such a thing, but if we don’t get fed soon, I’ll be half-asleep by the time we get to the card table, and easy prey for the serious players.”

At that moment, the door opened and a man entered, bearing a tray of bowls that rattled uneasily against each other. He was followed by another, somewhat taller gentleman, with a cloth over his arm and a magnum of champagne. A third gentleman, with shoulders so broad he had to come in sideways, bore a basket of bread. The three men appeared to have entered in order of size, much to Belinda’s amusement. They were joined by a fourth, who strode confidently into the room carrying a soup tureen and ladle.

Each gentleman was dressed in evening clothes, and three of them wore their apparel with aplomb. The broad gentleman appeared to have been pummeled into his outfit and moved like an automaton. It wasn’t unusual to find masked servants in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment, but there was something awkward and slightly theatrical about these particular ones.