The Lyon’s Alliance (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Seven

Friday, April 27, 1821

C hristina’s mother stood in Christina’s bedroom by the cheval mirror, playing her daughter’s Abigail.

The room was a perfect balance between spaciousness and intimacy, with a sense of peace and comfort, from the cream-colored wallpaper with its subtle floral motifs and coordinating drapes to the simple yet elegant furnishings. A grand four-poster bed, intricately carved from rich mahogany, was placed against one wall. A polished wooden vanity with a delicate filigree mirror was in one corner with ornate perfume bottles and silver grooming accessories laid out ready for Christina’s use. A small writing desk, with a quill pen and inkwell, was placed near the window. Oil paintings of gardens and the Thames also decorated the walls.

Chrsitina’s footsteps echoed softly on the polished wooden floor as she crossed the room. Her mother’s voice cut through the air as she reached the latch. “Where are you going?”

Christina hesitated, her fingers still hovering over the latch. She had hoped to slip away. “To the drawing room to wait for Wolf.”

“No.” Her mother was emphatic. “I will keep him in the foyer, and you will come down the staircase.”

Christina glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes rolled as she let out a heavy sigh. “Mother. There is no need to impress Wolf.”

Her mother held out the London Chronicle .

She walked back to her mother. “When did this arrive?” She turned to the gossip page and began to read.

“This afternoon. The London Chronicle timed printing the article to coincide with tonight’s event.”

“I’m sure they did.” She kept reading.

In the heart of London’s elite circles, The Society for the Relief of Indigent Widows and Orphans luncheon, hosted by Lord and Lady Hazelton, proved to be a feast for both the palate and the gossip mill! Lady Hazelton’s impeccable taste was on full display as she hosted the cream of society, tantalizing guests with an array of delectable delights and delightful company. However, amidst the clinking of fine china and the rustle of silk, whispers of intrigue and speculation abounded.

All eyes were on the ever-mysterious Lord Wolfton, who graced the event with his dashing presence. The notorious heartthrob of the ton, known for his charm and charisma, captivated guests with his effortless appeal. But who was the stunning mystery woman by his side for a second time, stealing glances and hearts? Our sources reveal that the object of his attention is none other than Miss Christina Hartfield, a name previously whispered in hushed tones among the gossipmongers. Could this be the start of a scandalous romance or merely a flirtatious dalliance?

Lady Grace Talbot’s presence lit up the room, fueling the fire. The belle of the ball, her elegance and poise left admirers spellbound, igniting rumors of her impending engagement. Could the handsome lord rumored to be courting her be preparing to take a knee? Or will his new attraction get in her way? Ah, the tantalizing game of love and scandal that is the ton!

Keep your ear to the ground for all the latest whispers, winks, and revelations from London’s glittering social scene! Tonight’s concert is the prelude to the final gala scheduled for a week from Saturday.

Christina tossed the sheet onto her bed. “Help me out of this dress.”

Her mother put her hands over Christina’s. She was already taking down her hair. “What do you think you are doing?”

“At least the last part of the article didn’t mention my name. Look at it.” She pointed to the paper. “Not only is my name mentioned, but they have cast me as ‘the other woman.’”

The sound of the cadence of the carriage wheels slowing in front of the house filtered through the window. Her mother peeked out.

“The viscount is here. I’ll greet him.”

Her mother gave her one last look and smiled, her eyes glistening. “You look like a princess.” Without waiting for her daughter’s reply, she hurried out of the room.

Christina took a deep breath. Wolf’s attraction lay in his intriguing blend of confidence and vulnerability. That air of mystery that captivates those around him is what makes him fascinating. But was being with him worth the aggravation of these personal attacks?

She glanced in the mirror, her thoughts drifting to Richard. His unassailable integrity and unwavering loyalty were as solid as a sturdy oak tree. That contrasted with Wolf’s mercurial charm. Richard was comfortable to be with, steadfast, and dependable.

She glanced out the window, watched Wolf alight from the carriage, and straightened his attire. He was tall and well-built, and that alone commanded attention. His raven-black hair, often worn swept back, revealed a strong brow and expressive eyes that were a deep shade of gray. Wolf. The name fit him very well.

Christina turned away from the window, picked up her reticule and shawl, and left her room.

He walked up the front steps, raised the brass knocker, and let it fall. The door opened quickly.

“Good evening, Lord Wolfton. Welcome to Hartfield House.”

“Good evening.” He came through the entry as Mrs. Hartfield walked out of the drawing room.

Before he could return her greeting, his eyes were drawn to the top of the staircase. His breath caught, momentarily stolen by the sight of her.

Christina glided down the stairs. Her gown and matching shawl, a delicate shade of pale lavender reminiscent of the soft hues of the summer twilight sky, shimmered as the silk chiffon draped in soft folds.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, their eyes met. Wolf didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

“Christina.” She gave him a nod, encouraging him to go on. “You look absolutely radiant.”

She smiled, a faint blush painting her cheeks. “Thank you, Wolf.”

Wolf glanced at her mother, realizing he hadn’t greeted her. “Forgive me.” He glanced back at Christina. “She all but took my breath away.”

Mrs. Hartfield’s eyes widened slightly in silent approval as she gave a subtle nod. “You both best be going. Have a good evening.”

Wolf offered Christina his arm. She rested her hand on his sleeve, and they went to the waiting carriage.

“I read the London Chronicle .” He tilted his head toward her.

“As did I,” Christina said, nothing more.

He glanced at her and then let out a breath. She wasn’t pleased.

After they settled in, the driver pulled away and began the thirty-minute drive to The Royal Pavilion Concert Hall on Kensington Road.

“I regret that you are once again a target for the ton’s inconsiderate…”

“Attack?” she added, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at him.

“Attack is a strong word.” Wolf, who had been looking out the window, faced her.

“We must call it what it is. An attack. An attack meant to make a person feel less than who they are. I do not like people to intimidate others. In this case, it’s not even directly to my face. Rather, the anonymous person hides behind a broadsheet. I find it cowardly.”

He stared at her. He thought her feelings had been hurt, but that wasn’t the case at all. She saw the cruelty that was inflicted by an anonymous person.

“I don’t know why everyone puts up with it.” She stared across the coach.

“Neither do I,” he added. “Let’s not dwell on the gossip. Hopefully, whatever is bothering them is out of their systems, and they will move on to someone else.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about it. I’d understand if the information was about Lady So and So’s prize-winning roses or Lord Such and Such’s new racing stallion. But the goal is not to congratulate or announce an accomplishment, not one bit. It’s to tear down and embarrass people, belittle them.

“A man may not mind. The gossip speaks of his prowess and business acumen. But for the woman, it leads to a much darker place.”

The carriage ambled down Kensington Road and stopped at Carriage Drive. Another carriage pulled up beside them. Wolf glanced at the other party and nodded as they started up again and pulled ahead. The sounds of the bustling city mingled with the clip-clop of horses’ hooves as they went farther down the road. Their carriage slowed as it got in the queue. They’d have to wait to disembark.

Christina shifted in her seat, her gaze flitting between the window and Wolf. He hadn’t spoken in a while. His disinterest surprised her, especially after the attention he had given her when he arrived at Gower Street. Her mind raced in search of a topic to lighten the mood. There had to be something that would distract him out of his mood. Finally, she cleared her throat.

“Did you see the exhibition at the Royal Academy?” That should be far enough away from the gossip to put him at ease. “I heard they have some remarkable landscapes on display.”

He didn’t say anything. If Christina didn’t know better, she’d say he hadn’t heard her. He moved enough for her to see his unreadable expression as he stared out the window.

Had the mention of the gossip in today’s London Chronicle triggered something? Or had she said too much?

She glanced his way again, about to say something, but hesitated. At the moment, he wasn’t receptive to anything she had to say. It would be best to leave him alone, at least for now.

The carriage lurched forward and moved slowly in the queue. Christina took a deep breath and tried to relax, but the tension in the carriage increased along with the silence.

“It’s a beautiful evening for a concert. I am looking forward to hearing Mr. Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony.”

Wolf responded with a terse nod, his attention still focused outside. Christina sighed inwardly. She had hoped for a pleasant evening, a chance to enjoy the music and forget, if only for a moment, the swirling rumors and gossip that had plagued them. But now, she might as well have come here without him.

He wouldn’t speak. If he did, he was sure to explode like one of Wellington’s cannons. No one deserved to witness that. He’d excuse himself from the event if he were smart, but that was out of the question. How did he get himself in this bloody mess? Better yet, how was he going to get himself out of it?

The carriage came to a halt, and moments later, his driver opened the door and dropped down the steps. He straightened his coat before he stepped down and started for the concert hall door.

“Thank you,” Christina said to the driver, who handed her down.

Wolf stopped as if it was an afterthought and turned to Christina. She remained by the carriage adjusting her skirt and shawl. The silver sheen of the fabric caught the light, and a wave of guilt took him by surprise.

He extended his hand toward her. Christina moved toward him and placed her hand on his arm.

“I thought you may have forgotten me already?” She smiled teasingly at him. “I didn’t know you were so eager to hear this concert.”

“Please forgive me. My mind was elsewhere,” Wolf nodded with deference with his apology.

“No excuse is necessary. Would you prefer making an appearance and leaving before the concert begins?” Her voice was quiet, almost conspiratorial.

Was he that transparent? He made a note to be more careful in the future.

“Do you know this evening’s honoree?” Christina drew his attention to the placard by the door.

“Honoree?” His brow furrowed as he processed her words.

“Yes, it’s on the placard by the door.” She gestured toward the announcement.

Lieutenant Thomas Reynolds will be posthumously honored for his unwavering valor and devotion to duty in remembrance of his courageous actions and ultimate sacrifice on the battlefield during the Battle of Barrosa. His bravery and selflessness in the face of danger are an enduring testament to the noblest ideals of honor and heroism.

“Bloody hell!”