Lydia cleared her throat, smoothed her skirts, and entered. A quick glance took in the room’s lavish décor and the somewhat risqué artwork on the walls. It was not, however, an unwelcoming space. The touches of red and gold, while extravagant, exuded warmth.
The heart of the room, however, was surely the massive desk, behind which sat an intriguing figure. A woman, dressed all in black, her face hidden by a veil of corded black lace. She had a letter clasped in her hand. A familiar letter.
Lydia, wondering vaguely why the lady was still in mourning after all this time, closed the door and stepped forward. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I presume.”
“Miss Page.” Setting the letter aside, the woman rose, stepped out from behind her desk, and approached Lydia, bejeweled hands outstretched. “I consider myself honored to meet you, my dear. I was grieved to learn of your father’s passing. He was a good man. A good man, indeed.”
Lydia, sensing rather than seeing the smile behind the veil, took the woman’s hands, the flesh soft and warm against hers. “It is a pleasure to meet you also, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. My father spoke very highly of you, though I confess it was through a letter I inherited after his death. Prior to that moment, I had not heard your name. To say I am intrigued about your connection to him is an understatement.”
“I’m sure it is, my dear, and all shall be made clear in the next little while.” The woman squeezed Lydia’s hands, released them, and then went over to a nearby settee, where she sat and patted the seat next to her. “Come and sit with me, please. Would you care for some refreshment? Tea? Or coffee?”
“No, nothing, but thank you,” Lydia replied, settling onto the settee.
“A husband then, perhaps?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon replied, a hint of humor in her voice.
Lydia laughed. “My father left me strict instructions to come to you if that were the case. So, yes, I should indeed like to be married. At the same time, I confess to being a little uncomfortable about relying on someone else to arrange that for me.” Lydia shook her head. “Forgive me, but the concept of it sounds so…”
“Impersonal?”
“Well, yes, actually.” Lydia frowned. “Why did Papa choose you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon? What is your connection to him? I’m longing to know.”
A deep sigh made the lace veil flutter slightly. “What I am about to tell you is in confidence, Miss Page.”
Lydia nodded. “Of course.”
“My husband died a little over ten years ago,” the lady began. “I knew he’d accumulated some debt, but I had no idea how bad it actually was. I soon learned the only thing left of value was this house. I suppose I could have sold it, paid everyone off, but I was determined to keep it. So, I created the Lyon’s Den as a means to remain in my house while paying off the debts. Establishing a gambling house was, in itself, a gamble, but so far I’ve managed to fend off the wolves. In fact, many of those wolves are now my customers. And in case you are wondering, no, your father was never a customer, but hewasone of the creditors who came to see me. I confess I feared his visit. The debt owed was substantial, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. As I had with all the others, I explained why I could not pay him back immediately, told him about my plans for the Lyon’s Den, assured him of my intent to pay, and asked for his understanding and his patience. Then I steeled myself against the expected barrage of threats and insults.” A soft laugh emerged from the veil. “But it never came. Instead, he stared atme in silence for a few moments, which was a bit unnerving if I’m to be honest. I had the impression he was reading my mind. But then he smiled and told me, quite calmly, that the debt was forgiven and that he wished me well in my business venture. ‘You’re a courageous woman, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,’ he said. ‘I look forward to witnessing your path to success.’” She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Indeed, I couldn’t even speak at first. I waited for him to laugh, to tell me it was some kind of cruel joke. When I finally realized he meant it, I wept with gratitude and told him that if he ever needed my help in the future, he only needed to ask.” Another sigh stirred the veil. “That he has asked me to help you secure a good marriage is the very least I can do to repay him, Miss Page. The very least.”
Lydia blinked back tears. “I have to say, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I am not overly surprised by what you’re telling me. Papa was a generous man. A true philanthropist. But with respect, I’m curious to know how you might set about finding a husband for me. Have you done this sort of thing before?”
The lady laughed and patted Lydia’s knee. “Many times, my dear, many times. When it comes to women, I generally cater to those who, for whatever reason, find themselves struggling to make a good match. I also offer the same service to men who are seeking a suitable wife and who are willing to pay handsomely for the privilege. The circumstances vary, as does the process. It is not uncommon for a woman to have several potential suitors, and vice versa. It is rare for me to refuse a request, though it is not unknown. I have, over the years, acquired a solid reputation for successful matchmaking.”
“I see,” Lydia replied, although questions remained. “So, what do you need from me?”
“Personal information. Your age, your likes and dislikes, what you expect from a future husband. And your worth, financially.”
“My worth?” Lydia blinked. “Is that important?”
“Extremely. A man may possess a title and an estate, yet still be insolvent. Marriage to a wealthy wife resolves the issue.”
Lydia winced inwardly. “I do not wish to be married solely for my money, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
“Then you have answered that question before I even asked it.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon shrugged. “Some women are happy to swap their inheritance for a title, or to become the mistress of a neglected estate. Some are not. However, you must surely see that your worth also determines, or at least influences, who I might deem suitable for you.” The lady paused for a moment and took hold of Lydia’s hand. “I have no doubt you want the fairy tale, my dear, and believe me, I’ll do all I can to find your prince. But bear in mind, princes also have likes and dislikes. Being aware of a person’s traits and principles, on both sides, is essential. Think of yourself as the unique piece of a puzzle, if you will. Somewhere out there is another piece of the same puzzle, but also unique. The two pieces do not have to be identical. They simply have to fit together to create a pleasing whole.”
Lydia pondered for a moment. “Yes, of course. To be honest, I confess to harboring some doubt about my father’s instructions at first, but no longer. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I truly do.” She swallowed against a sudden and unexpected stab of grief. Six months had passed since her father’s death, but she had never stopped missing him. Nor would she ever. The realization that he would not be at her wedding, that he would not walk her down the aisle, cut deeply into her heart.
“Ah, child.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon squeezed Lydia’s hand. “I know you must miss him. And, although I’m sure you have people around you already, people who love you, from now on, for what it’s worth, you also have me. Our association will not end when I find your match. And be assured, I will find him. But first, I needto learn all about you. I need to know all there is to know about the daughter of Reginald Baldw—”
A knock interrupted the remainder of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s comment and she expelled an obvious sigh of annoyance. “Come,” she replied, her tone sharp. The door opened and a man stuck his head around it. The same man, Lydia realized, that she’d seen entering the Lyon’s Den a short while ago.
“Pardon the interruption, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” he said, arching a brow when his gaze rested briefly on Lydia. “I’d like to speak with you as soon as you’re available.”
A moment of silence followed, one that continued to infer annoyance. “When Iamavailable, my lord,” she said quietly, “I shall let you know.”
“My thanks.” The man winked and flashed a smile at Lydia. “And while I’m waiting, I shall donate some of my wealth to this fine establishment.”
“Then rest assured, my lord, I shall be certain to take my time,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon replied, her voiced now edged with amusement. The man laughed and closed the door.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon shook her head. “Now, my dear, where were we?”
