Page 1 of Always the Lyon Tamer

Chapter One

Miss Rebecca Darbyswallowed down all her fears, the questions she knew were impertinent, the desire to run, and the panic she knew would overwhelm her if it took hold.

This was madness. How on earth had she managed to get to this position?

Her mother had always said,dire times called for desperate measures. As she looked around the Ladies Parlor in the Lyon’s Den, Rebecca’s smile flickered.

She never thought she would come here—one of the most infamous gentlemen’s clubs in London, known for its…well,debauchery. Even the word made Rebecca shake.

Rebecca reached into her reticule and pulled out the last letter John Lennox, Marquess of Gloucester, had sent her.

Miss Darby,

I am in receipt of your letter and wish to express my disappointment that I will not be attending Almack’s this week and will, therefore, sadly miss you. I am also unlikely to be attending any card parties or balls in London for the rest of the Season.

Yours faithfully,

Gloucester

Rebecca shivered, though the fire in the grate was roaring as was expected on a fresh February evening. It was the coldness of the letter which chilled her blood.

After everything they had shared together—the opera, the carriage rides, the murmured conversations no one else had heard…

She brushed away an angry tear while she waited for the proprietress of the Lyon’s Den to meet her as per their appointment. No, she would not shed tears over John Lennox, not yet. Not until she had explored all options.

How was it possible to love a man who hurt you so badly?

A woman wearing a gentleman’s breeches, waistcoat, and jacket walked into the room and looked around.

Rebecca stared. Even her good manners could not prevent her;seeing a woman so wildly dressed, it was unheard of!

The woman smiled. “Waiting for Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”

Rebecca nodded. Words did not seem sufficient.

The woman’s smile broadened. “Aren’t we all?”

The door closed behind her before Rebecca could even think of speaking, and she let out a long breath. One of the ladies the Lyon Den employed. This was a world apart from polite society, where a lady in breeches like poor Miss Sophia Worsley last autumn was humiliated, not praised until she became a countess.

The women here were different. They had power in a way Rebecca had never known, never believed possible. They made their own choices—whereas she was forced to live by society’s rules.

Was it only a few years ago that they were at the opera? She and John, his brother William, and the woman who would eventually become William’s bride?

“My, what a wonderful place! And to think, though my father and I have been in Bath a month, we have not been here! It does not seem quite right that we should come all this way for the Season and not even try some of its delights,” Rebecca had said, attempting to demonstrate her worldliness.

And the Duke of Mercia—for that was William’s full title, of course—had laughed, and so had Charlotte, and John had hidden his face.

And she had blushed with the shame of it but after that…

A carriage ride where John had stolen kisses. Rebecca’s cheeks flushed at the very memory. She should not have let him.

And now he no longer wished to see her, and she had come to the Lyon’s Den to…

What?

You cannot think to go through with this, a voice whispered in her ear.You must be a fool to think you could tame the Lion of the Lennoxes.

Rebecca rose to her feet. No one but that one lady had seen her here. She could slip through the door and—