Winnie couldn’t help but wonder why he was meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, which he obviously was. Was he a gambler indebted to the gaming maven of Whitechapel Row? That would be a genuinely unbearable scenario. She detested weakness in herself, let alone in the supposedly stronger sex. She could never love a weak man.
Her father had indeed been a powerful man. He’d aggressively sought to enrich his estate and managed his affairs admirably. The very notion of a man without strength or purpose was abhorrent to her. When imagining a match for herself, her internal struggle was a complex web of conflicting emotions, each pulling her in a different direction.
“I think, in light of the upcoming soiree that Mrs. Dove-Lyon is planning, we should refresh your wardrobe with a few new gowns,” the dowager said.
Winnie smiled at her grandmother. While she was not the kind of young woman who chased after fashion, she agreed with her grandmother that she needed new gowns. “Would you mind if I called on Madame Gris?” Winnie suggested. “I would like to look my best for this upcoming engagement, and a new gown would make me feel more confident.” Well, that wasn’t quite untrue. She did want to look her best…especially if the handsome stranger might be in attendance.
Her grandmother’s approving smile perked her up, and her relaxed brow portended favorably. “Of course, my darling. Madame Gris is a supremely talented modiste. You must order whatever you require to reflect your station and be abreast of current fashion. But you must forgive me for not accompanying you. At my age, shopping is quite a drudgery and requires far too much standing around doing nothing. Would you mind if Charles escorted you? It would not be wise for youto be out and about at this crucial time without a proper escort and proper etiquette being observed.”
Winnie was exceedingly fond of her cousin Charles. Her father and Charles’s father had been partners in all of their investments, and besides being cousins, they were the best of friends; consequently, she and Charles had been present in each other’s lives as far back as Winnie could remember. “Charles can drop me at Madame Gris’s atelier and pick me up in time for tea. I’m sure he has things to do that will occupy him while I’m measured and fitted.”
“Splendid. Then it is decided.” Winnie’s grandmother patted her hand. “Believe me when I tell you this will all work out for the best.”
Winnie was unsure if that were true, but arguing with her grandmother wouldn’t help her in one way or another. At least she would be given the time necessary to deliver the money to the orphans and women who direly needed her largesse.
Chapter Seven
The Lyon’s Den
London
Lex sipped thebrandy that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had poured for him. Trying to see her was useless, as she was veiled, her features hidden behind a black mourning shroud. A quick glance around the plush office, with its rich fabrics and carved-wood-paneled walls, reflected the success of the Lyon’s Den proprietress.
“Lord Capel, as you’ve informed me that you do not wager, to what do I owe the great pleasure of your visit?”
Lex could not assuage his curiosity about Mrs. Dove-Lyon. He’d heard the rumors of her tawdry past. Was it true that she was once a courtesan? Rumor mills were not always aligned with reality, and gossipmongers could be cruel. Lex was gentlemanly enough not to pass judgment on the misfortunes of others. He had enough of his own to contend with.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, thank you for the exceptional brandy. I appreciate your welcoming me to speak with you on such short notice.” Lex cleared his throat. He could not hide his discomfort at revealing the reason he was here. “It seems I am in need of a wife—a wealthy wife, to be exact.”
He couldn’t see her reaction, which increased his discomfort. She said nothing, and he plowed forward with his monologue, describing the dire circumstances of his earldom due to his father’s profligate ways. Though it was disconcerting not to see her reaction, he appreciated Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s quiet attention to his words and lack of interruption. Once he began unburdening himself, it felt better to lay his cards on the table, so to speak.
When he finished, he stared into his glass, his thoughts once more in the past, wishing he had not taken his father at his word and had inspected the ledgers for himself. He could have done something while his father was still alive. Perhaps the earl would not have had to die with such a shameful secret burdening him.
Lex had known something was on his father’s mind right up until the end. Even while his father was fading fast on his deathbed, he’d asked if there was something he wanted to say to unburden his conscience, but his father just patted him on the hand and told him he loved him and to look after Mama and Tess.
“They’ll need your strength, son…after I’m gone,” he had whispered, his voice reedy as he drew his final breath.
For a moment, a silence hung between them as Lex waited for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s verdict.
“Lord Capel, I appreciate your candor, and you should know that your tale is not unusual,” she finally said, drawing Lex’s thoughts back to the present. “Many of the best families have had to face similar challenges. Although I usually deal with women with tainted reputations, I have, on occasion, dealt with men needing to save the family’s legacy and find a way out of dire financial straits. A marriage that enriches both parties with what they lack is advantageous and rewarding.”
Lex nodded, sensing she had more to impart, and remained silent.
“I also want you to understand that many of the women who come to me were compromised by unscrupulous cads or existentialcircumstances beyond their control. They are not necessarily at fault, nor do I consider them tarnished. Even if they were, they do not deserve condemnation or to be made pariahs. We live in a society that does not allow a woman to make a lapse in judgment. In contrast, a man can trample the rules of decency and propriety and suffer no punishment or consequence to his reputation. It raises my ire just to think of it.”
Lex wondered if this was a subtle confession of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s personal trials and tribulations. Perhaps that was why she’d become a matchmaker. Hearing her speak of women who’d found themselves in unwarranted, undesirable circumstances returned his thoughts to the red-headed beauty. He’d been so taken with her on sight that his reaction had been almost primal.
To think that she may have been compromised or manipulated by some cad made him want to find the bastard and tear him limb from limb. He wondered as well if fate or Mrs. Dove-Lyon could offer an opportunity for him to meet with the young woman again. There was no sense in beating about the bush…
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I met someone in your hallway, by chance, a young woman that aroused my curiosity…” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider how inappropriate the wordarousedmight be under the circumstances.
The Black Widow of Whitehall held up a hand as she interrupted. “I apologize. That was an unfortunate error of timing. Those who seek my counsel are entitled to anonymity and an assurance that their business with me should not be compromised. Please forgive this abnormal occurrence. It will not happen again.”
Now I’m in a pickle. Dare I proceed to ask who she is?“Yes, well, I appreciate your candor and assurances that protecting the privacy of your clients is your utmost concern.”How should I frame this inquiry?Lex cleared his throat. “The lady in question and I had a brief exchange, and I wonder…if perhaps she is a client seeking a husband?”
“She most certainly is, but to be honest, the two of you are ill-matched. I take it that is the reason for your inquiry about her.”
Lex bit back his frustration and tried to remain calm. “And why, may I ask, do you feel we would be ill-matched?”
