For the prospective husband to pay the matchmaker fee was almost unknown, but in this case, each had been required to put up fifty percent of the fee, most of which would be refunded if they lost. The winner would meet the lady before the matter was finalized, and both parties would have right of refusal. If they went ahead, the groom must pay the other fifty percent. If the groom defaulted, he lost his deposit and would also lose the right to play at the Lyon’s Den. If the bride defaulted, the groom would still lose his deposit.
As always in gambling dens, whoever lost or won, the house would profit.
The captain was nearly halfway through his bowl. Two of the other contestants had retired from the lists, but of those who remained, three were neck and neck—or, more appropriately, bite and bite—with Jake’s master.
Adding to the drama of the occasion, Waterford was one of the other contestants, though few in the room knew the two men were at loggerheads and why.
Ah.Another man had dropped out. The captain downed half of his ale and the glass was quickly filled by one of the footmen who were circulating with jugs. The captain grabbed another mouthful of bits andbegan chewing.
All the remaining contestants were showing signs of the heat—they were flushed, sweating, and having frequent recourse to their handkerchiefs. A fourth man signaled his intention to quit the field, and then a fifth. Money was changing hands as those who’d made private bets involving the dropouts settled their accounts.
What was Waterford doing? His hand scooped bird pepper morsels from his bowl then swung in a circle to put them into his mouth. The viewing was uncertain, thanks to smoke from candles and cigarettes, and the shadows cast by the crowd. But Jake could swear that the hand was emptier when it reached Waterford’s mouth than when it lifted from the bowl.
There, he’d done it again, swinging his hand over his neighbor’s bowl. Was he dropping bits for Captain Harraway to eat, thus helping himself and hindering his foe?
Jake leaned forward in the hopes of seeing more clearly.
Meanwhile, an employee of the Lyon’s Den circulated through the crowd with the official betting book, as people argued the merits of the remaining five contestants. The two favorites had been stationed in India and were fond of curries. They were in the lead, along with Captain Harraway. A couple of men observed to one another that the captain was less flushed, and sweating less, than the others, and increased their bets on him.
Two of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s footmen flanked Waterford, and one of them tapped the man on his shoulder.Oh, good.He was being taken away. Someone else must have noticed his trick with the bird peppers.
The man who was trailing gave up, and the crowd’s excitement increased as they cheered on their chosen champion and jeered at the other two remaining contestants. Yet there was no clear front runner. Only a few scraps of bird pepper remained in each bowl, and as Jake watched, each man scooped his share into his hand and conveyed it to his mouth.
Jake held his breath as they chewed. Caught up in the excitement,he’d lost sight of his hope that Captain Harraway would be one of the failures. Winning seemed more important than avoiding marriage.
“Finished,” shouted three voices. Jake thought his captain was a fraction ahead of the others, but the final decision would be over to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who had descended from her private rooms as the contest drew to a close.
“The winner is Captain Harraway,” the lady announced. “It was very close, gentlemen, and I congratulate you all.”
Coming down to earth with a jolt, Jake examined his master. The man was more than half cut, by Jake’s estimation. He still looked delighted with himself. How he would feel tomorrow, when he realized he had promised to marry a stranger, Jake could only speculate.
Carr Abbas, Ealing
The man whobrought the message must have left London before dawn, because he arrived even before Miss Ellen was out of bed, and she was an early riser. Kat made sure the maid took it to her with her morning hot chocolate.
Miss Ellen scanned the letter and looked up at Kat. “Kat, your matchmaker writes she has found me a husband. I am to come to London tomorrow to meet him and decide whether he will suit. My goodness, Kat, what shall I wear?”
Any suitor meeting Miss Ellen in her usual garments would question whether she was even gentry and would certainly doubt her taste. Removing a lot of the flounces and frills had helped, but nothing could be done about the cut, the color, or the quality of the fabric.
Despite Kat’s earnest entreaties that her mistressspend money on new gowns, Miss Ellen had not done so. She acknowledged that clothing sent a signal about status but pointed out that their resources were limited, and a gown of sufficient quality to attract a wealthy husband would stretch them to the limit.
“Besides,” Miss Ellen had said, “I do not want to be courted under false pretenses. Bad enough that I am pretending to be the owner of this manor, without prancing around in fine feathers I cannot afford.”
Tomorrow, that decision might cost them dearly. Kat had insisted on Miss Ellen having the right to refuse the groom, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon had agreed, on condition that the groom had the same right. If Miss Ellen made a poor first impression, she might be rejected before he realized what a sweet, kind lady he had won.
Perhaps Mrs. Dove-Lyon could help.
Miss Ellen was studying the letter with a frown. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon says she will send the carriage first thing in the morning so I arrive early, and that she will have someone do my hair. She offers to provide clothing if I have nothing suitable.”
Oh good! Well done, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
“I shall not accept, of course,” said Miss Ellen. “You know how I feel about pretending to be someone I am not. The suitor will have to take me as he finds me.”
That wouldn’t do. Kat would need to come up with a plan to make it necessary for Miss Ellen to accept Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s help. At least the footman who brought the message was waiting for the reply. Kat had sent him to the kitchen, having asked one of the footmen to show him the way and see he was given food and drink. Kat could send a message of her own back with Miss Ellen’s answer to the invitation.
Let her lady turn up to a meeting with a proper suitor looking drab and pockets-to-let? Not if Kat could help it.
Captain Harraway’s lodgings, London
