Page 6 of The Lyon Deception

“We might have to run away to Scotland,” Harriet said thoughtfully. “I know Grace would help us.”

Her sisters loved Grace and were no doubt worried about her future, too.

“All the more reason to save Bonnyrigg,” Cat said practically. She lifted her teacup in a toast and the other two gently clinked their own fine china cups against hers. “To saving Bonnyrigg!”

“To saving Bonnyrigg!” the two girls echoed.

Chapter Four

Harriet sent a note around to Cat the following day. She had discovered the Master of Armytage’s address through one of Hugo Snowden’s servants, the “friendly footman” as she called him, which made Cat smile. The girls made their arrangements, and the day after that, the three of them set off in the carriage Prudence and Harriet were allowed the use of. In Cat’s opinion, it was a ramshackle vehicle, but she didn’t want to use her aunt’s carriage in case her destination was discovered and queried. The game would be up then. Cat knew if Jennie or, worse, her father got wind of what she was up to, she would be heading back to Scotland in no time.

She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t about to give up.

Sinclair Robertson’s house was in Marylebone, a fashionable area adjacent to Mayfair, where Aunt Jennie lived. The address was close to Regent’s Park, but they had barely traveled any distance at all when the carriage began to rock alarmingly. At first Cat thought, or perhaps she just hoped, that the problem was caused by a stretch of cobbles in one of the squares, but the motion became more alarming as they left the cobbles and carried on.

“Oh!” Prudence gave a squeak, and Harriet clung to her. The coachman, who Cat had been informed could be trusted with their secret, drew the carriage to an abrupt halt which caused it to tip alarmingly. All three girls shrieked in alarm as they held on to each other and the side of the carriage to save themselves from being flung out.

Suddenly in the confusion a man appeared, calling out to the coachman, and reaching for the horses’ bits. Cat pushed her hair out of her eyes to watch as he led the horses to the side of the road where they were less likely to be blocking the way before crouching down to look at the damage beneath the carriage. The coachman jumped down to join him and the two of them conferred.

Cat stood up carefully, but the carriage seemed to have steadied, so she opened the door and hopped nimbly down. She paused to straighten her skirts and twist her untidy hair into a knot at her nape, and then moved to join the two men. Their rescuer was a gentleman, or at least he was dressed like one, in a fashionable jacket and breeches. He had fair hair that curled around his head like a halo rather than being cut and tamed into the latest style. The closer she came to him, the more she became aware that he reeked of tobacco smoke and alcohol. With a shock, she wondered if he was only just returning home from a night out.

Cat did not think of herself as a puritan. Her father and her brothers might enjoy themselves in such a manner occasionally, but usually in the company of their womenfolk. Rory had been the worst for reckless behavior, but that was before he met Grace. She wasn’t about to judge this man for the way he lived his life, especially not when she didn’t even know him. And he had come to their aid after all, so that was surely a point in his favor?

The coachman was muttering something about “spendthrift ways” and that “the problem with the wheel” should have been repaired weeks ago. Then he noticed Cat listening and cleared his throat. “Apologies, my lady.”

“Dinna mind me,” she said with a smile. “I happen to agree with you.”

At that, the gentleman looked up, and she saw his face for the first time. He was very handsome, with the sort of even features that were universally admired, and his eyes were an unusual combination of green with flecks of brown. Not quite hazel. They narrowed as the two of them took stock of each other.

“Is this your carriage, madam?” he asked with the sort of accent she expected from the London nobility, although there was more to it. She was still a stranger to English voices, but she wondered if he was originally from elsewhere.

“The carriage belongs to Hugo Snowden,” she answered. “These two ladies are his charges.”

Prudence had leaned over the side of the carriage to see what was going on. “Is it very bad?” she asked mournfully. “Hugo will complain about mending it if it’s very bad.”

“He’ll say it was our fault,” Harriet added indignantly.

Now the gentleman was fighting a smile, and his eyes sparkled. “It is quite bad,” he said. “I’m afraid you can’t go any farther today. But don’t worry. I know something about these matters, and more importantly I know a good wheelwright. If you will give me permission, I will arrange for him to come here and inspect the damage.”

“Thank you,” Prudence declared, sounding relieved. “You are very kind, sir.”

The gentleman’s gaze returned to Cat. He was young, only a few years older than her, but in repose he looked weary. That’s because he has probably stayed up all night drinking and carousing, she told herself. As if aware of her inspection of him, he smiled, causing a dimple to appear in his cheek.

“Were you traveling to anywhere in particular?” he asked.

Now a curl of his fair hair had fallen into his eyes and she had the urge to smooth it back. Cat decided she had to be more shaken by their near-accident than she had thought.

Harriet spoke up before she could answer. “We were going to visit the Master of Armytage. He lives in Harley Street.”

Abruptly the man looked down, and then he nodded. “I think I know who you mean,” he said quietly. “Tell me, why are you seeking him in particular? Are you related to this gentleman?”

The three women exchanged a glance and it was Cat who answered in an airy tone. “No’ related, but I have some personal business I wish to discuss with him.” She was not about to air her private affairs with a stranger no matter how handsome.

But it seemed that Harriet was not on the same page. “His grandfather is stealing her home,” she piped up. “We are going to ask him to stop.”

“Harriet,” Prudence hissed, but it was too late.

Now the gentleman was staring at them in genuine bewilderment. “Stealing her home?” he repeated slowly. “Well, that doesn’t sound very nice.”