Page 26 of The Dandy Lyon

Late September

“If I didn’t know better, Marcus, I’d say you were trying to woo me.” The chuckle in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice held more than a touch of reproach. “I’ve seen you more in the past month than in the last two years.”

It was true. Marcus had sat slumped in the horsehair-covered chair in Mrs. D-L’s office, drink in hand at least once a week since he’d returned to London more than six weeks ago. The black-garbed lady had been the only person to whom he could bare his wounded heart, so he’d made a habit of visiting her every Sunday afternoon, her wry wit and no-nonsense attitude somehow fortifying him for the interminable week ahead of him. “If I were an intelligent man, I would be courting you, Bessie.” He’d started using her first name when he returned, and she hadn’t objected. “You are the best company any gentleman could wish for.”

“With one exception, in your case.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched. She only spoke the truth, of course. Thoughts of Joanna were never very far from his mind, much good they did him. “But in lieu of absent friends, you give me a great deal of comfort, my dear.”

“I am happy to have been a help, Marcus, especially in the first days of your disappointment.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured herself another brandy from the bottle they’d been sharing. “However, I think it is time you moved on.” The bottle hovered over his almost empty glass. “Or decided it’s time to try another approach with Lady Joanna.”

“Hah.” Marcus raised his glass and she poured until it was almost full. “That will be a cold day in hell. It’s over, Bessie.” He raised the glass and drained it in a gulp. “There is nothing I can say to his lordship that would induce him to allow me to marry her.”

“Then don’t ask him.”

Blearily, Marcus peered at the veiled figure. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said Lady Joanna was willing to marry you.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to ask her, but—” Memory of that searing kiss out among the heather transported Marcus for a moment to a world full of light and warmth. With an effort, he shook it off and fixed his focus on his current companion. “I believe had I asked her she would have said yes.”

“Then go to Middlesex, find a way to meet her, and elope to Gretna Green.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s exasperated tone said he’d outstayed his welcome at The Lyon’s Den. “You know you will not be happy until you do. And I, for one, am tired of seeing you moping about here every week, Marcus. You need to get on with your life and that means marrying Lady Joanna by any means necessary.”

“I cannot…I will not ask her to abandon her family, Bessie.” Marcus sat up in his chair, suddenly sober. “She might be willing to do so now, but eventually she would come to hate me for taking her away from them. Family is everything.” God knew he could never forsake his mother or his brothers and sisters, no matter how irksome them might be at times.

“You may feel that way, Marcus, but not everyone does. At least, give Lady Joanna the choice.”

“That might be easier said than done.” If he were to go to Middlesex, how on earth would he contact her?

“I have faith in you, Marcus.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose, bringing him somewhat unsteadily to his feet. “Now I must go about running my establishment and I suggest you do the same with yours.” She headed to the door. “You can see yourself out, I assume?”

Nodding, he collected his stick and hat and with a sigh, made his way out to his waiting carriage. Once seated, the coachman started the team and Marcus turned his thoughts to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s suggestion. Well, he’d used every other nefarious means to marry Joanna, so why not entertain the most direct—and most drastic—one?

An elopement with him would certainly put her beyond the pale as far as her brother was concerned. Could Marcus, in good conscience, take her family away from Joanna even if it meant they would be together for the rest of their lives? Would she be willing to do that? And if she did, would he be enough family for her throughout the years? They might expect children, might want them desperately, but that was no guarantee they would have them. With or without children, the ton society in which Joanna had been raised would be closed to her after their marriage. And he’d never allow her to become part of the underworld he’d grown up in. No children, no society, no friends. What if, after twenty years, all Joanna had to show for her life was him? Would he still be enough?

Thoughts spinning like a whirlwind, Marcus was surprised when the carriage pulled up in front of The Dandy. Time to get back in the saddle, so to speak. He was in the process of buying another property in London, thinking to open yet another gentleman’s gaming establishment, similar to The Dandy but aimed at a different clientele—the gentry and men like himself who had made a bit of blunt but weren’t quite comfortable gambling with the nobility. The new club would be exclusive—no lords allowed. At least, he hoped he could keep them out. The nobility had a knack of getting their way if they wanted something badly enough. He’d yet to think of a name for the new club. Perhaps he’d give that some thought over dinner tonight. Eating alone had the advantage of giving one plenty of time to think about things. Usually that was the time during his day when he thought the most about Joanna, so another subject would be welcome this evening.

Marcus exited the carriage, ran up the three marble steps to the door and knocked rapidly with his stick. The door opened to the sight of Snipe, the butler, his weathered face furrowed even more than usual. “What’s the matter, Snipe?” Marcus asked as the man helped him off with his cloak. “You look as though your favorite dog bit you.”

“There’s a lady here to see you, Mr. Dandridge.” The butler jerked his head toward the door of Marcus’s office.

Marcus sighed. “Ladies” often appeared asking for him at the Dandy, and before he’d met Joanna, he’d sometimes allow them to entertain him in his quarters, if they were comely enough. Since he’d fallen in love, however, he’d refused all such offers, as Snipe well knew. “Get rid of her, Snipe. You know my orders well enough.”

“But sir,” the butler said, lowering his voice, “she’s a real lady.” He shook his head. “Not like the others at all. That’s why I put her in your office. If anyone saw her in the club, it would ruin her reputation.”

“Did she give her name?” Now Marcus’s brow was furrowed as well.

“I didn’t like to ask, sir.”

Snipe was right about one thing. Ladies did not, as a rule, intrude into gentlemen’s clubs for fear of losing their reputations. So what female of good repute would be desperate enough to seek him out here? And who would Snipe deem a “real” lady? One of his sisters, perhaps? Shaking his head, Marcus strode to the door. There was one way to find out. He pushed down the latch and opened it.

The room had grown dim in the late afternoon sun, however he had no problem whatsoever recognizing the vision that rose from the chair in front of his desk.

“Marcus!” Joanna ran toward him, stopping his breath and making his heart ache with joy. Then she was in his arms and he truly thought he might go down on his knees, the dream of so many nights, now soft and warm and real. She laid her head on his chest and he managed to close the door before scooping her up and making straight for the chair she’d risen from.

Knees weak, he sat them down, wishing he could enfold her, keep her there with him forever. Unaware, he sat rocking back and forth, reveling in the feeling of her once again in his arms. “Joanna.” Her name came out a whisper, as if speaking loudly might break the spell that had conjured her. “I thought never to see you again.”

“I thought so too.” Her arms tightened around him. “It has been the most abysmal six weeks and two days of my life.”