“Whitney.” Her mother called, drawing her attention back to the present. “Your father and I would like to see you happy. You deserve all the best.”
Whitney scoffed. Society obviously did not feel the same way. “I appreciate your concern, mama. It’s very kind of you. Unfortunately, it’s not you and papa that that I need to convince.”
Her mother held fast to Whitney’s hand. “This is why we’ve decided to take a new approach.” Her mother rolled her lips inward. “It may be considered unorthodox by some in society, but it will be they who look upon you with envy.”
She couldn’t imagine what plan her mother had concocted now. “Mama, you have me utterly flabbergasted. Can you please get to the point instead of dancing around it?”
With a big breath, she spilled what she’d been keeping inside. “We have hired the services of a woman that will find you the perfect husband. One that will not be deterred by your past discretions in any way whatsoever.”
Discretions was a nice way of putting it. But that wasn’t the important part. “You’ve hired a matchmaker? To find me a husband?” She asked with surprise. This was even worse than if they’d paid off a man to marry her. It was practically the same thing. What will everyone say? There will be whispers said behind her back that she was unable to secure a husband on her own, so they needed to pay for one. She would be the laughingstock of society and an even bigger pariah than before.
She dropped her head in her hands. “Mama, this is awful.”
“It will be fine, Whitney, you will see. The woman is not a matchmaker per se, but she does have ways of securing husbands.” She patted Whitney’s hand. “And let’s be honest, your options are zero. I dislike that for you so very much. You deserve the very best and you aren’t getting it.”
“But now I’m going to get who knows what. How is that better?” She slumped into the back of the settee. “If you believe people continued to gossip about me before, just wait until they find out about this.”
“You are being very dramatic. But you worry for no reason. The woman we have hired is very discreet. And we have a lot of say into the specifics of it all.”
Whitney couldn’t believe what her mother was saying. “I don’t know how this is a possibility. What of the man? Does he know the situation he is walking into?”
Her mother grew quiet.
“He doesn’t?” She exclaimed. “Surely, this cannot be real, mama. What does papa say to all of this?”
Straightening, her mother pursed her lips. “Your last two marriage offers—”
“I’ve had marriage offers?” She asked surprised, sitting up straight.
“As I was saying, your last two marriage offers were from two men older than your father. Practically as old as your grandfather.”
Whitney blanched. She couldn’t imagine such a union.
“Exactly. They were not plausible matches and there was a reason why we didn’t even approach you with them. It’s not that you aren’t worthy of a viable marriage. You are. We just need to find the right man. One who deserves you and that’s what we’ve sought help with.”
Whitney pushed off the settee and began to pace the floor in front of the fireplace. “So some poor, unknowing sod is going to be saddled with me, and he’s not going to know there’s an issue until after we’re wed?” She paused, running her palms down the front of her green day dress. “I have to say, mama, I did not see you and papa as such conniving creatures.” She began pacing again. “I have no wish to take on an unwilling husband.”
“My dear.” Her mother threw her hands up in exasperation. “You have no option. It is this or be married to someone old enough to be your grandfather. And I would most certainly suggest you take this offer while it is available.” Her mother stood and walked out of the salon, leaving Whitney there to ponder this new direction her life could be headed in.
Chapter Three
“My lord, aletter has arrived for you.”
Christopher frowned as he accepted the missive from Gideon. The handwriting was unfamiliar so it wasn’t from his brother. Alexander was the only person he received any communications from, so this was interesting.
He turned the letter and studied the seal. Gold wax in the design of a lion. Interesting. But it gave him no inclination as to who it was from.
Popping the seal, he unfolded the paper and read, his brows drawing up in surprise at the odd invitation.
‘Mrs. Dove-Lyon cordially invites you to visit her establishment, the Lyon’s Den, to partake in a game such as you have never experienced before. The stakes are high—and final—but if you win, you’ll be paid handsomely. If you lose, you’ll pay handsomely, but not necessarily monetarily. Either way, win or lose, your life will indeed change forever.
Tonight 6 o’clock sharp. Do not be late or you forfeit your game.’
This was indeed the most cryptic invitation he had ever received. The name was new to him. Was the Lyon’s Den a gambling den? It certainly sounded like it. He sighed. A big win was what he was after. What he’d been after since he had fled Scotland in shame. This could be his one chance to set things right with his brother once again.
But if he lost? He couldn’t afford to pay a handsome price. Though the letter stated that it wasn’t necessarily money that he would lose. What the hell did that mean?
Would he lose a hand? An ear? A foot?
