Mrs. Dove-Lyon lifted her veil enough to take a sip of brandy. Lex wondered if it was a tactic of delaying her reply, weighing her words.
“The lady in question is not favorably inclined to my finding her a husband,” she said. “It is at her grandmother’s behest that she is even entertaining the idea. Her expectations for a husband are lofty, to say the least. I don’t think she would be open to a match with a man whose primary focus is finding a wealthy wife.”
Lex sensed her discomfort in telling him this. He could well understand that his position was less than desirable.Damn and blast!He wasn’t entirely without resources. He had managed to hold on to all of the family’s properties, and the title of the Earl of Capel was old and respected throughout England. Nor did he intend to eat up his future wife’s dowry. He had ideas about investments. He’d researched it for months, consulting with friends and trusted solicitors about solid investment opportunities. This was when he was still contemplating selling off some of the smaller properties. Who knew—he still might be forced to do that if this path came to naught.
“I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. A lady of such quality deserves to marry a man who could match her in all ways. But I am not completely destitute. I merely seek a wife with whom I can build a happy marriage and who brings with her a suitable dowry. Is that not a reasonable desire?”
“Yes, of course it is,” she replied with a smile. “But as I said, the young lady in question had a very long anddetailedlist of requirements.”
Lex tried not to grit his teeth and instead took a sip of his brandy. “I do not know her expectations for a suitor, but I was pleasantly drawn to her person. And we had a most cordial, if brief, conversation.”That’s an understatement. What you felt was an overwhelming attraction. The kind of passionate obsession that men have scorched the earth to possess.
He nearly laughed aloud as it suddenly occurred to him that his visions of kidnapping and eloping with the beautiful lady were comparable to Paris’s abduction of Helen, which led to the Trojan War. He cleared his throat and smiled, trying to keep his voice even as he continued. “I understand that many of your matches have led to a most satisfying marriage, and some have even sparked true love. Is itimpossibleto assume that this could be the outcome in my case as well?”
“I will give this some thought and consider your argument,” she said with a coy smile. “In the meantime, I agree to help you in your quest to find a wife. One with a munificent dowry. Whoever is chosen for you will pay me the cost and profit for finding you and the lady a match. I stress that my financial arrangement with the lady will be of no concern to you.”
All Lex could do was acquiesce to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s terms of engagement. If only he could find the red-headed beauty on his own, he might be able to avoid all this rigamarole. He could ask to court her on his own.
Another beauty flashed through his memory—the highwaywoman. Good Lord. He would have to stop thinking about her, even though he found her equally as captivating as the red-headed young woman he’d encountered outside Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office. Perhaps even more so, because of the risks she took. He couldn’t help but wonder how such a woman would be in bed…passionate…wanton…open to the kind of love games he enjoyed.
But no, he could not allow his fantasies to steer him off course. He needed to marry, and soon. The beautiful woman he’d encountered in the hallway was mesmerizing, and he’d felt an immediate and heady attraction to her.
Even if Mrs. Dove-Lyon agreed to a meeting, he would find out who the woman was before meeting her again. And he was determined to do so.
Chapter Eight
“There you are.How did it go with the lioness?” Basil asked, his eyes riveted to thevingt-et-undealer’s hands as the mysterious, masked Oberon dealt the cards to the four men sitting at the table.
“As well as can be expected.” Lex eyed the piles neatly stacked in front of Basil. Fortune was obviously smiling on his friend today, as his supply of chips had grown since Lex left to speak with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
Basil shot a glance at him. “I must say, you don’t look particularly pleased.”
“My mind is elsewhere.”
“Ah, are you again ruminating over that wench, the so-called Lace Bandit? Because I have news for you.”
“And what news do you have?”
Basil directed his attention to one of the other men playing at the table. “May I introduce my companion in the devil’s sport, Sir Axel Hammond. He, too, recently encountered the Lace Bandit, and she robbed him of far more than she took from us. A month’s revenues from his tenants in St. Giles.”
Axel Hammond held out his hand, and Lex reluctantly shook it. Lex was well apprised of the deplorable St. Giles rookery. It was the worst of the dilapidated areas where the unfortunate lower class lived in subhuman conditions. In Lex’s estimation, if this man was a landlord of St. Giles, he was a monster with no regard for human life. His tenants most likely lived in abject misery. The man prospered from the misfortune of others.
“Lord Capel, the pleasure is mine. I will have you know that I am determined to see this plague on Civil Society dangling from a rope. Even though women are the fairer sex, her blatant preying on unsuspecting victims is beyond the pale. I have considered laying a trap for her that she will not be able to escape. I daresay we may never recover our losses. However, we will be satisfied to see her meet a justified end, dangling from the hangman’s noose. Afin de l’affaire, if you will.”
Lex’s dislike increased ten-fold as he listened to the slumlord gloat with glee over his plot to kill a young woman. Maybe it was the sharp, vulpine features or the greedy way he caressed his stack of coins. He wasn’t entirely without charm, though, handsome enough, with broad shoulders and chest well displayed in perfectly tailored cloth—but the malicious way he verbally attacked the woman who’d robbed him and the gleeful smile as he plotted her demise made bile rise in Lex’s throat. Whatever her offense, the thought of her pretty neck twisted in a noose was a tragedy beyond reason, and an image that made Lex sick to his stomach.
“Perhaps upon capture, you might, instead of ending her life, warn her off perpetrating future crimes and spare her life, affording her a second chance. A chance to right her path.”
“Never! She is irredeemable. She will swing from a rope, and the crows will pluck her eyes from their sockets and dine on her remains. Her death will serve as a warning to other thieves who dare to steal from their betters.”
“Betters” like you should take heed of the warnings they deliver to others. Your crimes are far greater than those of a highway thief who relieves you of a bag of coin.“And how do you intend to capture the lady?”
Hammond’s beady eyes darkened in delight. “I’ve enlisted the services of an elite group of Scots Greys, a renowned regiment of cavalry horsemen now retired from His Majesty’s service, to secretly patrol the area where she has most recently struck. They are hidden within Epping Forest, which I understand from the marquess is near your earldom and where you were robbed by the Lace Bandit.”
Lex kept a calm countenance, but inside, he was seething.Howdarethis lowlife landlord trespass into Essex with a hired mercenary presence?“You should understand that I am not comfortable with a bunch of soldiers upsetting the peaceful atmosphere of my earldom.” He glared at the man.
Basil seemed to catch his tone and exchanged a quick look with Lex, who did his best to relax the cords in his neck and the clenching of his jaw, which he knew his friend would read immediately.
“I beg your pardon,” Hammond snapped back. “I am paying out of my own pocket for whatyoushould be doing, and that is protecting the earldom you hold so dearly.”
