As his expression turned slightly solemn, she reached out a hand tohim. He sat beside her and she squeezed his fingers gently. “I feel that there is something troubling you.” She paused. “Is it the memory of your wife and son?”
He winced slightly. “I will admit that as your lying-in draws ever closer, I am concerned about the outcome.” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “But you are a strong, resilient woman. I have no doubt you will do fine.” His eyes lost some of their shine. “I shall always feel responsible for their deaths, no matter what I do. I knew Daria was fragile, and yet I used her most ill.”
“You cannot continue looking to the past when there is a brighter future ahead.” She kissed him lightly. “For all of us.”
He seemed to take some reassurance in her words, but then it was also short-lived. “I sought you out to let you know the coach has just been delivered. I have written to a few of the names on the list and once we receive word, I will make arrangements for us to travel to London.”
“I see.” Catherine’s heart sank slightly. She had almost convinced herself that this was a love match between her and Benjamin. But now that the memory of the Black Widow had been revisited, she found that she couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt that wanted to plague her. She would never rest easy with Benjamin until she could meet some of these other couples and be assured that their stories had ended happily. “I appreciate your dedication to this endeavor,” she added softly.
“Of course.” His dark eyes were hypnotic as he looked at her, as if he could see right into her soul. “I would do anything for you. You should know that by now. Or at least, I hope you would.”
“I do.”
The following morning,Benjamin assisted his wife into their new, black-lacquered coach and headed for the heart of London. It would not take long to travel, but he had made arrangements for them to stay overnight nevertheless. He thought a nice break from the excitement at Fontaine Hall might be a welcome respite for both of them. Perhaps it could be a romantic outing together. Their first unofficial engagement as a married couple.
Long after Catherine had fallen asleep last night, he’d pondered the state of their union and how he prayed that Mr. Steele was right and the couples he’d reached out to had nothing but glowing praise for Mrs. Dove-Lyon and her matchmaking ability.
He certainly didn’t want anything to ruin the progress he’d made with Catherine. They were easing into a daily routine that left him feeling happier than he’d ever imagined possible. He was relieved that everything was going so well. But at the same time, it terrified him. He kept waiting for the moment when something would go terribly wrong.
He had never been a man who relied on faith or believed in miracles, but he prayed that, just once, he would be granted one. When he’d told her that he was concerned about the upcoming birth in a few months, he hadn’t been lying. Visions of Daria’s fate haunted him more with each passing day.
A slight sigh came from his side and he held Catherine a bit closer to him. She had fallen asleep against his shoulder. Exhaustion was part of the process, but yet she came to him nearly every night with an eager passion for which he was grateful.
As the outskirts of the city came into view, he sat up a bit straighter. It wouldn’t be long before they would be engaging in their first inquiry.
However, as the carriage meandered along the West End along Cleveland Row, Benjamin knocked on the roof of the carriage to alert his driver to stop. As a sleepy Catherine raised her head and covered ayawn with her gloved hand, she asked, “Have we already arrived at—” When she spied the familiar blue exterior of the Lyon’s Den, she said, a bit more alert, “What are we doing here?”
He grasped her shoulders. “I fully intend to take you wherever you want to go after this, but I decided it would be instructive to come by to see Mrs. Dove-Lyon first.”
She frowned. “For what purpose? So that she might lie? Or crow about her victories?”
“No.” He shook his head. “To hear the truth. To find out why she chose to pair the two of us together.”
As his wife’s blue eyes narrowed, he wondered if she would be keen to engage in his scheme, but she gave a curt nod of her head.
“I admit I have been curious about her reasons for that as well. But will she even agree to see us?”
This was the part that Benjamin had omitted. “She was one of the letters I sent and her reply was the first to return. We are expected.”
She lifted a brow and Benjamin admitted that he had been rather stunned at the easy acquiescence as well.
Opening the door, he stepped to the ground and then turned to offer her a hand. “Shall we?”
Catherine accepted him and together, they made their way to the front door. The Lyon’s Den was not just a gaming hell. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had built an empire in this building. The first floor boasted various shops, including an impressive jewelry store. The third floor consisted of various retiring rooms. However, it was the second floor that held the gaming hell that gained the most interest from society, and where the Black Widow reigned supreme over her empire.
As a servant led the pair to the lady’s private quarters, they weren’t surprised to see the stern, severe woman, dressed all in black, waiting like a queen prepared to hear from her wayward subjects.
At least, that was the impression that Benjamin got as they entered. A quick glance at Catherine, her clenched fists and her pursedlips, bespoke of her apprehension as they were both asked to sit in front of the lady’s desk.
With her hands clasped in front of her, her mouth pinched in near displeasure, she wasted no time in speaking. “I would claim to be surprised by your missive, Lord Fontaine, but to be honest, I’m surprised it took you this long to reach out to me.”
His brows lifted. “Indeed.”
“Yes,” she returned flatly. Her gaze shifted to Catherine. “And Lady Cath—oh, pardon me, Lady Fontaine. Using a lady’s maiden title is a common error I make. A result of my business. I’m sure you understand.”
Benjamin couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or if she was being a bit derisive. But if he had to hazard a guess, it was the latter.
The lady’s focus returned to him. With a curt prompt, she asked, “What is it that you wished to discuss so urgently, my lord?”
