Page 11 of The Lyon Deception

Cat stared at that invisible face and for the first time understood just how formidable a lady the Black Widow was.

“I think a husband has a great deal of power over his wife,” she answered bluntly. “I would be reluctant to give that power to someone I did not love and trust. Who’s to say he would not marry me and then keep Bonnyrigg for himself?”

“Quite true. Many men would do that. But you do not know Sinclair. He is not what rumor has made him out to be.”

Cat had to wonder if Mrs. Dove-Lyon was being paid by Sinclair to find him a “suitable” wife. Why else would she be so keen for Cat to consider marrying him? She suspected the woman would probably say anything to get her way and collect her fee, because surely there was a fee involved in this? But Cat would not let herself be bullied into making any decisions that she would later come to regret.

“Marriage would only be something I would consider if I were desperate,” she said firmly.

“And here I was thinking you were desperate,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon murmured, pouring herself another cup of tea. She looked enquiringly at Cat with the teapot raised but Cat shook her head. When the widow was settled again, she went on. “I think you should consider my proposal. Lord Armytage wants a duke’s daughter for his grandson, and he may be willing to negotiate to get her. And even if he doesn’t, I am sure you could sway Sinclair to your way of thinking. Ask for Bonnyrigg as your marriage settlement. That way you can save your family,” she added silkily. “Do give it some thought, Lady Catriona, before I find him someone else.”

At that, she rose to her feet and Cat knew it was her signal that the meeting was over. Reluctantly, she also rose.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she said politely, trying not to sound as if her spirits were even lower than they had been when she had arrived. “And I am very grateful for your suggestion,” she lied. “You can be sure I will think on it.”

“Don’t think too long,” was the sharp response.

There was nothing else for Cat to do but leave the room. She stood outside the closed door in the shadowy corridor. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had not performed a miracle, and marriage would be Cat’s very last choice, no matter how selfish it made her feel. But she was not a fool. Marrying Sinclair Robertson would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

She sighed, and then looked both ways down the corridor, trying to remember which way she had come. Despite the situation with Sinclair looming large in her mind her more immediate problem was: How am I ever to find my way out of this maze?

Chapter Six

The Black Widow sat down again and smiled to herself. She flung back her veil and took a deep breath. She was so used to watching the world from behind the black lace that she felt naked without it, but the veil was part of her character now. Over the years, the mystery had grown, whispered rumors building, each more ludicrous than the last. And that was how she preferred it.

She considered Catriona MacKenzie. The girl was just what Sinclair needed in his life—lovely and warm and intelligent. She was perfect, so it was a shame she was resisting. But who could blame her? Marriage was not a state to be taken lightly. There must be give and take on both sides.

Bessie had won over more difficult clients in her time. Not that Catriona was actually a client. Yet. But Bessie wasn’t about to give up, and she had strong reasons to want to succeed.

Lord Armytage.

She frowned as she remembered the letter she had received a fortnight ago. It had been rather stained from its long journey from the north of Scotland to London. She had opened it curiously, wondering why His Lordship had written to her. It was not a pleasant letter. Lord Armytage wrote that he had heard from reliable sources that his grandson spent a great deal of time at the Lyon’s Den, shirking his responsibilities. No doubt, he went on, Mrs. Lyon-Dove was happy to fleece the boy of his allowance, but Lord Armytage would not tolerate it any longer. She must ban Sinclair forthwith.

The arrogance of the man!

And then in the next paragraph, Armytage went on to suggest it might even be in Mrs. Lyon-Dove’s interest to help Sinclair make the sort of marriage required if he was to reach the heights of the ton. Wasn’t she a matchmaker of sorts? He suggested she use her skills to persuade Sinclair to make the match his grandfather wanted for him. There would be a nice juicy fee, if she succeeded.

That gave Bessie pause. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or fling the letter into the fire. Did Lord Armytage have spies in the Lyon’s Den, watching her? Well of course he did. He was that sort of man. And was he trying to manipulate her with a combination of bullying and his poor excuse for flattery?

“If he is to make the final transition to gentleman, then Sinclair needs a wife who can lift him further in society.” Here he suggested the name of the duke’s daughter Sinclair had already told her. Armytage went on, “It has long been my dream for him to rise to the highest heights. Once upon a time, I dreamed of such a thing for myself, but I was not able to achieve it. I was never well received. Too blunt, too Scottish! Sinclair is different, and he is malleable. It is my greatest wish to see him succeed where I failed.”

The man was insufferable! And yet Bessie was tempted. She was certainly not adverse to finding Sinclair a wife, but it was not the lady Armytage mentioned in his letter. He wanted a wife who would fit in with his own ambitions, and it seemed to Bessie that the old man was trying to live his selfish dreams through his grandson without caring what Sinclair might want or think. She could imagine the sort of woman the duke’s daughter was—beautiful and ambitious, with her family demanding more from her so that they could rise with her. Shallow came to mind, although that was possibly unfair.

Sinclair was in need of someone very different. He needed a wife who would be by his side whatever he did, who would understand his complexities as he would hers. A helpmate and a companion. And most of important of all, someone who would love Sinclair as he deserved to be loved.

Bessie shook out her skirts and went over to the fireplace. For a moment, a face from long ago resurfaced in her memory. The flames flickered as she smiled to herself. Love was not always smooth sailing, but if one found it, then it was worth rough seas and the occasional storm.

She would write back to Lord Armytage, pretending to be afraid of his threats and considering his suggestions, and she would make some suggestions of her own.

Chapter Seven

Catriona was sure she was lost. She had thought she was retracing her steps, but the staircase she now stood at the head of was not the same one she had climbed up earlier. And the noise from the gaming rooms was louder here, too. She paused to listen to the gentlemen enjoying themselves. Cat did not think she was a prude, she believed people should live their lives as they thought fit, but she found the idea of throwing away your inheritance on the turn of a card distasteful. What if Sinclair did that once he had been handed his grandfather’s fortune? What if he gambled away Bonnyrigg and everything Cat loved?

The very idea made her gasp sharply, as if she had been stabbed. Cat had to do everything in her power to stop that from happening. Although . . . did that mean she would marry him? With a shiver, she cast the thought aside and was about to descend the staircase when a shadow moved in the hall below, startling her and making her jump.

“Lady Catriona!”

The masculine voice was familiar. Cat peered down into the gloom and realized the voice belonged to Mr. Sutherland from the carriage incident. Surprised but relieved, she hurriedly descended the stairs to join him.