Page 4 of The Lyon Deception

Mrs. Dove-Lyon chuckled. “You have no idea how many women come to me wanting to marry. Their reasons are various—mostly some scandal in their past has made them ineligible—but there must be one among them who would suit. Forget your grandfather’s demands, Sinclair,” she went on, as if it were that simple. “You need someone to share your life with. Someone who will love you. Perhaps if that happens, you will be able to come to terms with your future.”

Easier said than done, Sinclair thought, but he took the hint and rose to his feet, leaving her alone in her private rooms.

Downstairs, the gaming room was heaving with men and women. He heard laughter and cries of “You have the devil’s own luck!” And glasses of alcohol were being consumed at a fast rate. There were some pretty females lurking about the edges, keen to catch his eye, but Sinclair did not want company. Not tonight. There had been times when he did, and he knew his status and his future inheritance were all draws to those who had little or nothing.

“Master?”

He looked up. Lord Harcourt was approaching, a smile on his handsome face. Christopher was one of his few true gentleman friends, and he was glad to see him. “You were upstairs with Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” he said, with a raised eyebrow. “Quite the pet, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” Sinclair drawled. “She thrashed me at cards.”

Christopher laughed. “I saw you riding yesterday. I was going to catch up to you, but you looked damned grim, Sinclair. What on earth do you do during your days?”

Sinclair didn’t want to tell him about his projects. Recently he had built a chair, spending endless hours making it perfect. It was a child’s chair, which he could hand off to an orphanage or charity.

The enjoyment he felt when returning to his carpentry roots brought him a great deal of pleasure. Sometimes he thought that if his grandfather found out and made him stop, which he knew he would, he may as well jump off a bridge into the Thames and be done with it.

“My mother has arranged a ball,” Christopher went on without waiting for an answer. “She sent you an invitation, but she tells me you haven’t accepted. Can I tell her you are coming?”

Sinclair had seen the invitation. It was one of many he had ignored. But Christopher was his friend and now he felt a twinge of guilt. He should go. The other man had shown him nothing but kindness, and there was really no reason why he shouldn’t accept. Apart from his current low mood.

“Who knows, you might find it cheers you up!” Christopher said, as if he had read Sinclair’s mind.

That made him smile. “Very well. I have a new jacket I can wear.”

One thing he did enjoy about being Master of Armytage and having a reasonable income was his ability to buy clothes. He’d always had an interest in nice things but hadn’t been able to indulge it before.

Christopher grinned. “You should give me the direction of your tailor. My mother was telling me only yesterday I looked like a ragbag.”

Sinclair’s mother had not seemed to care what he wore. She had loved him for the boy he was. Sometimes he wondered whether she would still love him for the man he had become. Had he betrayed her and his father when his grandfather set him up as a gentleman. He was an imposter and he couldn’t see any way out of his predicament.

Chapter Three

Cat smiled at Aunt Jennie over the breakfast table. Jennie, who was otherwise known as the Countess of Strathmore, sipped her tea and looked at her niece with bright gray eyes. “It is so good to have you here, my dear! Despite your father writing me pages and pages of instructions about keeping you safe. I’m no’ sure what he thinks happens here in London, but clearly it isn’t up to his standards.”

That made Cat laugh. Her father was very protective of his only daughter, and she had feared he may forbid her from coming to London. She suspected her mother had persuaded him it would be good for her, and besides, what mischief could she get up to with Jennie watching over her?

Plenty, if her brothers were any indication!

Bothwell, her aunt’s cat, was smooching around her ankles, so she reached down and gave him a pat. Her brothers had warned her never to touch Aunt Jennie’s cat, but Bothwell the cat seemed perfectly friendly to her. Perhaps it was just the MacKenzie men the feline disliked.

“What are your plans for today?” Jennie reached for some toast.

“I am meeting Prudence and Harriet Snowden.” The two girls were her sister-in-law Grace’s sisters and had been to Bonnyrigg on occasion. Cat had always gotten on well with them and enjoyed their company. Prudence was nineteen now with Harriet two years younger. At twenty-two years, Cat was their senior, and they seemed to think her the fount of all knowledge, which amused her. However, this time Cat was hoping to pick their brains.

“Then I willna worry,” Jennie said, reassured. “I know Prudence and Harriet are sensible girls.”

Cat tried not to cringe with guilt. No one knew the real reason she had come to London. Although, that was not completely true; part of the reason she was here was because of what was happening at home.

Her father had taken Uncle James’s advice, and Lord Armytage’s demands were now before the courts. It would likely be there for a good while, and in the meantime the family were trying their best to carry on as normal. But Cat couldn’t do that. She couldn’t pretend everything was normal when the possible loss of Bonnyrigg Castle was hanging over her. So she had suggested to her parents that she follow in her brothers’ footsteps and make a visit to London. Better than moping about the castle, she had told them.

They had agreed, and everyone believed Cat was here in London seeing the sights and enjoying herself when the truth was she had a plan. Which was to track down Lord Armytage’s grandson, the Honorable Sinclair Robertson, and then persuade or threaten or demand that he help her.

She knew a lot more about him now than she had when he was first mentioned by Maxwell at that memorable and depressing dinner. Before she left for London, Cat had asked a great many questions about Sinclair, while being careful not to draw attention to herself. A sweet smile and an innocent expression were particularly useful, or simply nodding to show she was patiently listening while her target blathered on and on. It was amazing what people would tell her. Then she just needed to weed out the interesting bits from the dross.

For instance, she knew Sinclair was twenty-four years old, and Lord Armytage had taken guardianship of him when his parents died. He had been sent to one of the most rigorous schools in Edinburgh, and afterward he had gone to London so that he could gain some polish. Lord Armytage visited him now and again, probably to keep an eye on him, but most of the time the older man preferred his northern residence.

The two were not said to be close, which was good news, in Cat’s opinion. She thought she could work with that.