His sister snorted.
Though his sister was not usually a confrontational sort, if she was in a mood to be quarrelsome, she could be a formidable foe. Considering the way she held her features in a stoic mask despite her challenging words, it was clear that something had set his sister on edge.
He thought again of the apparent quarrel she’d been engaged in with Waring. What in hell could she have been discussing witha man she’d only just met to invoke such a reaction? He’d have to discuss the incident with her as soon as they had a private moment.
If Waring had done something untoward…
Ralston took a deep breath to dispel a rush of protective ire. He would deal with Waring as he deemed necessary. Discreetly and definitely.
Gratefully, the rest of the evening went on without significant incident or concern. Lydia stayed out of the library. Bridget limited her flirting to two or three gentlemen at a time, and Eleanor managed a few tight smiles, though she was very reluctant to leave her nest of ferns. Eventually, all three of his young charges danced with a handful of gentlemen and were ready to leave shortly after midnight.
Once he escorted them each to their respective homes, Ralston returned to his own bachelor residence, anticipating a warm brandy and a quiet fire before retiring to bed.
Peace and relaxation were not in his immediate future, however.
He should’ve known Jarret wouldn’t acquiesce to his instruction so easily. Though his driver assured him that the younger man had been returned to his residence, his cousin had obviously decided to go out again. According to the note awaiting Ralston at home, Jarret was in some trouble at the Lyon’s Den.
With a harshly muttered curse, Ralston walked back out his front door. Just once, he’d like to have the opportunity to put his own comfort—his own needs—ahead of the greater needs of his family. But not tonight.
As always, duty prevailed.
Chapter Four
Charlotte had alreadystarted to ready herself for bed when a note was delivered to her bedroom by a sleepy maid. The missive was curt and clear.
Your presence is required.—Mrs. D-L.
Before leaving her meeting with the Black Widow of Whitehall three nights ago, Charlotte had given the other woman permission to contact her directly should the need arise. She had not expected that to include a summons in the earliest hours of morning. Her naturally rebellious nature and her utter exhaustion after enduring hours amongst London’s haute ton had Charlotte considering ignoring the woman’s request.
But then she thought better of it. It could be good news, after all. Perhaps the Widow had already found Charlotte a husband. She couldn’t afford to miss a potential opportunity, even if it did come at such an inappropriate time. In truth, this whole scheme was inappropriate.
Since she’d already removed her ballgown and let down her hair, Charlotte chose to dress more comfortably and quickly in a simple frock before twisting her hair into a quick bun at hernape. Throwing a voluminous cloak over everything, she left her room to request the carriage.
Arriving at the Lyon’s Den, she was once again escorted to the ladies’ entrance and from there was led to an open gallery that looked down upon the main gaming hall. Despite the other ladies milling about, observing the gentlemen below, Mrs. Dove-Lyon stood alone at the ornate balustrade.
“Thank you for attending me at such a late hour,” the Widow noted with a simple nod as Charlotte stepped up beside her.
“I assume you wouldn’t have called for me if the matter wasn’t urgent and vital.”
“Indeed.”
Charlotte turned to gaze down at the activity spread out on the floor below. An impressive array of gaming tables was arranged to allow optimum flow of guests. Important, considering the significant crowd of well-dressed gentlemen that circulated the space, their numbers occasionally interrupted by gorgeously gowned courtesans weaving amongst them. It appeared the gambling and revelry would go on for several more hours.
After having spent hours out amongst London society, Charlotte thought the whole scene looked extremely exhausting.
“Is there something you wish to show me?” Charlotte asked, hoping to conclude whatever business she’d been called to quickly.
“You do not like to waste time, do you, Miss Dickson?”
Charlotte stiffened at the mixture of amusement and censure in the woman’s tone. “I am dedicated to my purpose,” she replied.
There was a pause. “Good. Because amidst the subtle chaos in the scene below, an unexpected opportunity has presented itself. A reckless young man has gotten himself into a bind and owes my club a rather grand amount of money. Money he cannotpossibly hope to acquire in the time allotted under this club’s rules and regulations, to which he happily signed his name when he became a member. His only reasonable course of action was to summon his elder cousin to come to his aid.”
Charlotte could hear the criticism in the other woman’s voice. Mrs. Dove-Lyon did not seem to think very highly of this nameless gentleman. “If he is so low on funds, he certainly would not meet my requirements,” she noted.
“Of course not.” The lady sounded slightly offended that Charlotte even suggested such a thing. “It is his cousin I’d like you to consider. The marquess is heir to one of the grandest dukedoms in Britain and I recall he was included on your list of potential prospects. There is no question that he possesses all the qualities you listed and then some. He is also—as we speak—trying to arrange a way to free his cousin from this latest mess he’s become embroiled in. I could manipulate the terms of the debt to snag the marquess in an agreement which could satisfy your needs.”
“Just like that?” Charlotte was a bit stunned. “You could get him to commit to a marriage contract with someone he’s never even met?”
