“Bess’s father’s gambling debts burned through the family fortune and left them destitute. Her father committed suicide, her brother joined His Majesty’s army, and she was left with a mother who wascapable of nothing more enterprising than wringing her hands. Overnight, Bess’s flock of courters disappeared. The estate’s assets were liquidated to cover her father’s debts, and Bess was driven from her home. Only a bleak future would be hers because of this reversal of fortune. A lesson your grandfather and papa assured you would never face. I lost track of her for what seemed like a lifetime. Then I ran into her on a visit to London, to my great pleasure.”
Winnie’s curiosity was now piqued. She could not imagine how this Bess had survived her circumstances well enough for her grandmother to acknowledge her existence.
“To my delight, she appeared quite affluent, and we shared a cup of tea and reminisced about our lives. I will not bore you with all the details, but Bess confided that she was forced to do things a lady would never consider, but it had strengthened her and spurred her to succeed. She married beneath her to an older man, a colonel, and due to his spendthrift ways, when he died, she was again left with debt and a bleak future.” Her grandmother paused and sipped her tea.
“But my old friend had always been a clever girl. The only property she managed to retain was Lyon’s Gate Manor on Cleveland Row. From her gambling-addicted father, she learned a valuable lesson, and she turned that lesson into a lucrative, thriving—though admittedly sordid—business. Bess runs the most successful gaming establishment in London’s West End. The rumor mills abound with stories about the place. Her parties are notorious, and it’s said that no man or woman from the upper crustdoesn’tvie for an invitation to attend her elegant soirees.”
“Grandmama, this is a fascinating tale, but what could this possibly have to do with me or my future?”
“Ah, herein lies the nugget, if you will kindly let me finish.”
Winnie folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, Grandmama.”
“Bess confided one more thing to me, which garnered my attention and has remained with me. With great excitement, she shared asecret that she’d found her calling and a way to improve the world.”
“Surely you jest. How does a gaming den proprietor make the world a better place?”
“My child, you must learn patience.” Felicia’s eyebrow swooped up again to its loftiest point.
“I’m sorry, Grandmama.” Winnie sat up. This story was taking a worrisome turn, and she feared where it might lead. She sensed danger lurking in the shadows of her grandmother’s tale. The hair on her arms rose with impending dread.
Felicia sighed and took another sip of tea. She cleared her throat, prolonging Winnie’s torture. “Because of the recent loss of your dear parents, I was too acquiescent to your requests. I should have insisted you make your debut and attend the Season in London. When you refused, professing insurmountable grief, I should have taken a firmer hand and made you take your place among Society.” Felicia’s brow returned to the normal position on her face, and her eyes narrowed. “I have not been able to confirm my worst fears; however, I am greatly concerned about your future. You are keeping things from me.” The dowager baroness’s eyebrow rose again, and she scrutinized Winnie, peeling away the layers of her deceit.
Is Grandmama a clairvoyant?Did her grandmother know she was the Lace Bandit?Oh, dear Lord, that is utterly impossible. No, she would have chained me to my bed and locked me in my room for the rest of my life if she had an inkling.
“I would never—” Winnie’s protest was cut off by a wave of Felicia’s hand.
“Do not interrupt. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment is patronized by men who are the scions of the finest families in the land. They represent a pantheon of eligible bachelors.” The dowager baroness shook her head. “I don’t pretend to understand this fixation on gambling, but it has become a way of life among the well-heeled. This is what comes of too much idleness and lack of purpose, but this is neither here nor there in importance. I have contacted Bess andarranged for you to meet with her to find a suitable husband.”
“But I do not wish to marry.” Winnie knew her impulsive outburst and protest would not be well received, so she corrected it, hoping to soften the impact. “At least, not yet.”
“Fiddlesticks, this is not up for discussion. It benefits you and protects the baronetcy. The townhouse in London is being prepared to receive us for an extended period as needed. We will leave tomorrow, and Cousin Charles will accompany us and provide a safe escort. I have heard rumors of an alarming increase in highway robberies, by a woman, no less, and we should travel with a male protector.”
“But—”
“Edwina, I will not entertain any of your protestations. I suggest you go to your room, and you and Agnes pack for a lengthy stay in London.”
Winnie knew there was nothing she could say or do to sway her grandmother. Her fate, it seemed, was sealed—an unhappy marriage to a man who desired her fortune, not her heart.
Chapter Three
The Lyon’s Den
London
Lex stood ina corner of the expansive gaming hall of the Lyon’s Den, sipping brandy and regretting his decision to listen to Basil. He wished he’d stayed home. Seeing his peers gambling away huge amounts of money, and in some cases fortunes, only raised his ire.
He remembered his anger when he’d found out the extent of his father’s gambling. The damage that his father had wrought to the estate’s coffers not only threatened the family’s future but had practically destroyed his father’s own legacy in one fell swoop. Lex had loved his father dearly, but he’d been left a burden that he had to fix—and soon—or he would be forced to sell off the family’s smaller holdings to keep the creditors at bay. And the only way he could do that was to marry a woman with a fat dowry.
Lilting laughter from above drew his attention, and his gaze drifted upward to the second floor, where ladies converged and giggled behind fans as they played cards while peeking at potential future husbands grandstanding at the gaming tables below.
In his opinion, the women who idled over cards and other games of chance were no better than the men. Should he find a brideamongst these frivolous ladies, he would insist that she give up the pastime, which he believed led many to rack and ruin. He could never understand the passion people developed over gambling or drink for that matter. He did admit that he had indulged himself in his passion for women in his younger years, while he was sowing his wild oats. But that was typical of most young men.
These days, saving his family estate took up most of his time, as did his seat in Parliament. As a member of the House of Lords, he was often on the other side of prevailing opinion. Especially when it came to the deplorable conditions of the poorest segment of society that lived in the shameful rookeries in London—narrow, overcrowded streets that although surrounded by wealthy and opulent neighborhoods, enjoyed none of the benefits. Owned by various agencies, the lands were leased to unscrupulous builders anxious to capitalize on the rising influx of immigrant populations. The tenements built on reclaimed farms and swampland were subject to no building codes. Greedy landlords were allowed to build quickly dilapidated structures due to overcrowding and lack of structural integrity. Because the land was leased, these freeholds would revert to the agencies of government. The landlords, with no monetary incentive of increased value through sale, were not encouraged to build lasting structures. If profit were your guide, you would find none once your freehold was up. There was no reason to provide decent living standards without incentive or moral compass.
The rookeries were hellholes of thievery, prostitution, and the disenfranchised, who struggled to survive in a few fetid blocks of misery. The slums teemed with Irish immigrants who’d fled starvation in the Great Potato Famine and Ashkenazi Jews escaping pogroms. These desperate folk had no spokesmen other than a few voices like Lex to defend their rights. Hoping for a better life, some had escaped the violent discrimination of the Eastern European territories under the governorship of Russia, only to find themselves in circumstancesnot much better than what they’d fled from.
A woman veiled in black interrupted his reverie. “Lord Capel, I see you are not at the Lyon’s Den to try your luck in a game of chance.”
