The cab stopped and the hall boy swung down as Luke reached for the door. “Forget home, my brother. This I must see.” He pulled himself up and settled in on the far side of the seat.
Timothy gave the instructions to the driver, then handed the twopackets up to his brother and entered the cab. He reached for the packets, then stilled, staring at the one on top.
Lady Elspeth Westridge
Inmarsh House
Berkeley Square
London
“Brother, you have gone rather pale. What is wrong?”
Timothy blinked, barely hearing Luke.She is alive. Unmarried. This is impossible.
“Timothy?”
He shook his head and tucked the packets back into his coat. “Nothing. It is nothing. My mind drifted a moment. That is all.”
“Hm. So who is that packet addressed to?”
Timothy shook his head. “No one. And old friend of Ella’s. No consequence. I thought I recognized the name, but I did not.”
“I see. So no need to—”
“None.”
“Hm.” Luke disbelieving tone did not convince Timothy, but he did not pursue it. He had to think about this development later. At length.
Fifteen minutes later, they stood on Cleveland Row, a half block from a house painted a rather distinct blue, watching a plethora of noblemen and -women come and go. Carriages of all sizes and expense rumbling past them, depositing some of the most elite members of Society at the front door—or the side entrance for the ladies.
“Well.” Timothy sniffed. “This seems to be a burgeoning concern.”
Luke coughed. “I take it you are not familiar with the Lyon’s Den.”
Timothy cut a glance at his brother. “Only in passing. I was not quite twenty when I left.”
“This is one of the primary competitors for At Wheel’s End. It is run by Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon, who is also referred to as the Black Widow of Whitehall. The house belonged to her husband’s family, but she inherited it at his death, along with a mound of debt and some unscrupulous creditors. She fought back, organizing it into a two-fold business. She knows thetoninside and out, what they crave, what they need. And her business acumen is unparalleled. It is a gambling hell, yes, but not just featuring the standard games. She indulges, encourages even, patrons to wager on the oddest and must ludicrous things possible.”
“Such as?”
“Who can eat or drink the most before tossing their accounts. Who can balance a bowl of goldfish ono their head the longest. Who can hold a chair at arm’s length? Who can—”
“I get the idea. What is the other side of her business?”
“Marriage.”
Timothy faced his brother. “What kind of marriage?”
“Unlikely ones. Women who are considered outside the norm can pay her to find a man willing to take a risk. Widows. Spinsters. People in debt who need an inheritance. Men sometimes approach her if they need a suitable mate from within the Beau Monde but no time to spend going to balls.” He cleared his throat. “Or a desire to spend a fortune on a new wardrobe.”
“You are cozening me. You are not seriously suggesting I engage her services.”
Luke shrugged one shoulder. “It would be an expeditious way to handle Mother’s campaign for you. And you personally know two different couples who were matched by this woman.”
“Who?”
“Matthew and Sarah. And Gordon and Ella. Why do you think Ella sent a packet of letters to her?”
