Page 6 of Pride of Lyons

“She has seduced me, without even trying.” With a practiced hand, Danford upended the glass of spirits, tossing it down his throat without batting an eye. “From the moment she entered the house six months ago, I’ve been obsessed with her.” He stared at Thomas with haunted eyes. “I was certain I’d have her today in the carriage. She struggled very prettily, which just aroused me all the more. And when I finally kissed those delicious lips, I thought I’d spill myself.” The rapt look on Danford’s face showed him still in thrall of the moment. He glanced at Thomas and shrugged. “You haven’t seen her, Braeton. When you do, you’ll understand.”

“I heartily doubt that, Danford. You sound like a man obsessed.” Thomas had known men who became fixated with someone or something, although he himself had never grown so passionate he lost himself in the process. “You’d best try to extricate yourself from this contretemps you’ve created before it comes to the ears of your wife. As it is, you’ll have the devil’s own time explaining to her why her companion will not be returning to her house.”

Danford chuckled. “I assure you, Breaton, that was part of my plan all along. Lady Danford will receive a letter from Miss Quinn, telling a tale of disaster at home and the need to go to her parents at once. An address will be provided to send her things to her, but instead of her parents, it will be the new house that I have provided for her.”

The incredible optimism of the man staggered Thomas. He’d never seen anyone so delusional. “You’re speaking as though Miss Quinn has already agreed to be your mistress when she seems to have rejected that option by her flight to this establishment.”

An evil grin spread across Danford’s face. “I believe I can show her how advantageous such an arrangement would be for her. And how ruinous her refusal would be to her reputation.”

That boded very ill for Miss Quinn. If the woman had not brought Danford’s attention upon herself—and Thomas tended to believe Miss Quinn’s actions rather than the earl’s words—she deserved the chance to leave this house with her reputation intact. How Danford planned to persuade her would be worth knowing, in order to produce a counterargument. “How do you propose to bring that ab—”

The door opened, admitting Geoffrey. “Thank goodness. I must have looked in five different rooms before I found you.” He nodded to Danford. “My lord.”

“Rochdale is dispatched home?” His brother-in-law had much to make up for in dragging Thomas to the Lyon’s Den today.

“He is. I put him in the hack myself and gave the coachman the direction.” Glancing around the room, his friend’s dark brows puckered. “Why are you still detained here?”

“We await Miss Quinn’s appearance to put an end to the incident.”

Geoffrey nodded toward a convenient corner, and Thomas happily followed him, eager to converse with someone other than the diabolical Danford. “Please enlighten me, Thomas, as to your part in this unfortunate confrontation. Why are we not this minute contemplating the cattle at Tattersall’s?”

“I wish to God we were.” Thomas shot a look at the earl, calmly pouring himself another drink. “But I cannot stand by and let the likes of Danford force a young innocent into a life of immorality.”

“That is his intention?” Geoffrey’s brows swooped up, and he shifted his gaze to Danford.

Thomas nodded. “He has planned this debauchery for some time it seems. And today he has set the plan in motion.” He caught his friend’s eye and shook his head. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow him to succeed.”

“Planning to play the knight errant, Thomas?”

“If I must.” Thomas shrugged. “There are worse roles one might play.”

“I beg you to be careful. This is truly none of your business this time.” Geoffrey’s exasperated look drew a smile from Thomas. His friend had witnessed Thomas’s folly before when he’d tried to prevent a wrong.

“I assure you, I will retain a cool head. I seek only to assess Miss Quinn’s character and assist in her escape from Danford’s clutches.”

“You make that sound like a simple task.” Pursing his lips, Geoffrey crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friend.

“I hope it shall be.” A counter plan to the earl’s had presented itself after a little thought. “If I can persuade Miss Quinn to quit London and return to her parents’ home or some relative or friend who will shelter her until this wretched business has blown over, perhaps she can find another position as a companion in another part of the country, for choice.” A long shot, of course, but not unheard of if the scandalous behavior of Danford could be kept quiet. In any case, it would keep Miss Quinn out of Danford’s clutches. More than that, Thomas could not promise.

Following along dutifully behind Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Honoria fought to clear her head. Those two glasses of wine, while comforting, had been a mistake for now her head was spinning, and she struggled to keep up. As they went down a steep flight of stairs, the woman’s words kept whirling around her mind as well. What opportunity did she think to present? The only one Honoria craved was the opportunity to absent herself from Lord Danford and anything to do with him. A circumstance that would leave her without a position, but that was certainly preferable to being dishonored by the earl.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon came to the final step and turned a corner, Honoria at her heels. She caught glimpses of various other rooms, filled with well-dressed gentlemen sitting around card tables or grouped together laughing. Then she and Mrs. Dove-Lyon were climbing another set of stairs. It was again on the tip of her tongue to ask where they were going, when Mrs. Dove-Lyon reached the top of the stairs, opened a massive mahogany door, and nodded to Honoria. “This way, Miss Quinn.”

Afraid to disobey, Honoria continued into the room, furnished with expensive chairs, a comfortable-looking chaise longue, and an over large wooden desk, piles of papers neatly stacked all over it. Now what did Mrs.—Honoria stopped dead, all the air rushing out of her lungs at the sight of Lord Danford standing before the fireplace.

“Honoria!” The earl all but leaped toward her, prevented, thank God, by the efforts of a taller, blonde-haired gentleman, who grabbed his arm and tugged him backward. A second gentleman, with dark hair and a huskier build, moved to Lord Danford’s other arm and grasped it in a strong grip. Once more able to breathe, Honoria turned to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, outrage bubbling up. “What is he doing here? He cannot be the opportunity you spoke of?”

“No, my dear. He is not,” she whispered. The woman turned toward the earl and stretched out her arm, her finger pointing directly at him. “However, Lord Danford has made the unfortunate mistake of announcing to all my patrons within shouting distance, that he was searching for you. Worse, he called out for you by name, several times.”

The sinking sensation in the pit of Honoria’s stomach might have been due to the wine but was more likely to the horrible realization that now a great many people suspected Lord Danford was trying to debauch her. It didn’t matter that nothing had happened between her and the earl. In the eyes of the hearers, it was a fait accompli. Her knees buckled, and she clutched the back of the brightly flowered chaise.

“Please have a seat, Miss Quinn. Lord Longford,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon shifted toward the dark-haired gentleman, “although you were not originally invited to this meeting, you may make yourself useful and pour Miss Quinn a brandy.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Honoria put her head in her hands. In her current state, more spirits might make an end to her.

“Lord Longford.” The imperious tone must have moved the gentleman, for presently he urged a small cut-glass tumbler with a healthy tot of spirits into her hand. Honoria wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell.

“Honoria.”