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That tinge of worry spread into Sarah’s chest. She had heard about the Lyon’s marital traps, but surely the woman understood—
“I loaned you that money to help you get established in London, helped you obtain the mortgage to get out from under the Crewood estate.”
“And I am paying you back, including the mort—”
“You have been a widow for almost two years. In London for eleven months.”
“I could not stay—”
“I am well aware of the circumstances requiring you to leave that estate once you were well enough. But enough time has passed that you should be ready to resolve these issues and move on. Including your debt here.”
“But I am earning—”
“You cannot depend on our ladies’ gambling room to be your permanent source of income. It is far too unreliable. You need a stable position.”
“But I am making all the payments. I have paid off all the debts from my relocation, and I can pay you more—” Sarah’s growing sense of panic made her voice pinch. She held up her reticule. “I made two months’ worth this afternoon! You gave me two years. I’ll be thirty and will receive—”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon waved her silent, then paused and took a sip of tea. Her complete calmness as she toyed with Sarah’s future made that panic spread. She wanted to scream, which would not do. She snuggled her reticule back into her lap and stiffened her spine. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I simply need more time. I am a frugal woman. I ran the earl’s estate in a way that compensated for his gambling and drinking and... his other habits. My own staff now is skeletal. The house needs a few repairs, but they can wait for the next two years. I have considered my options, and I am already exploring ideas, and in two years all will be well. I need more time.”
“Time is precious. So is money. Which you do not have at this time. You could re-enter Society. Find a husband.”
“Self-humiliation is not my favorite game of chance. And Society—or any man—would never accept me.” She gestured at the veil. “Not looking like this. I am too old and too unattractive.”
“You are but eight and twenty. And if you found a man who would not mind—”
“Such a man does not exist. And I will not be pitied. And... and I am not ready. You know that.”
“You would rather live in poverty for the next two years.”
Sarah’s breath hitched at the implied threat, and her growing panic made Sarah’s hands quiver, but she would not give ground on this. “To be honest, yes. But I would hope you could continue to show me the mercy you already have. You know what will be mine in only two years. You and my father were good friends.”
“Indeed. And your father was also an excellent businessman—”
“Until he began gambling here.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon ignored the jab. “And Francis cared for you a great deal, as you well know. But he could not have known you would become a widow so young. And he would not want you to pass up an exquisite opportunity, especially given your prospective future.”
“Unlike my father, I’m sure I will find reasonable options when the time... what opportunity?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon turned her teacup in its saucer. “What do you say, Your Grace?”
Your Grace?Confusion blurred Sarah’s thoughts, then a scrape of wood on wood sounded to her left, and one of the shadows against the wall moved. Sarah jerked to her feet, her hands in front of her, her reticule clutched in one hand.
“I think,” a man’s low voice rumbled, “that she is ready to fight both of us.”
Chapter Two
Saturday, 23 July 1814
The Lyon’s Den,
Whitehall, London
Quarter of three
Moving farther intothe light, Matthew examined the woman in front of him. Sarah Montague Ainsworth, Lady Crewood, Dowager Countess, did not look like much, encased as she was in black and her face covered by a veil. She barely reached the height of his breastbone, and her slender figure had appeared frail—until she had jerked to her feet to face him, her fists raised and clenched, her reticule held like a weapon, every muscle trembling with... fear? Rage? Desperation?
Now she seemed fierce and determined. Much more like the woman who had been described to him over the past week, after his first meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. She had suggested three women to him, but after a week of inquiries, he had asked to meet with Lady Crewood, assuming the lady would be agreeable to the idea. Now an odd doubt began to tickle the back of his neck.Does she not know what is going on here?
