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

Chapter Eighteen

Thursday, May 3, 1821

T heseus ushered Richard into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s private salon. The air was filled with the fragrance of fresh flowers mingled with the faint aroma of her unique blend of tea. It was the scent of shared secrets over porcelain cups, whispered confidences, and veiled alliances.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat in her high-backed chair and offered a silent gesture to the chair across from her. Her eyes, usually composed, now held a glimmer of concern.

He took his seat, the table laid out for tea. The scene appeared to promise solace for the unease that gnawed at him.

“Your note mentioned The Society. Is there something amiss?” Richard asked, his voice betraying none of the anxiety that tightened his chest.

“Richard.” Her voice carried a grave tone. “I’m sorry to inform you that The Society has retracted their support for the astronomy project at this time.”

His jaw dropped. “Clearly, I did not hear you correctly.” This revelation came out of nowhere. There hadn’t been a hint of…Everyone at Tuesday’s luncheon praised Christina’s, some wanted her to expand the program to include adults.

Richard’s gaze met Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s, and for a moment, he felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him. “You’re serious,” he managed to say, the words barely a whisper, as he absorbed the full gravity of the situation. The support he and Christina had celebrated two days previous vanished like the stars at dawn.

“Yes. I wish this was a poor jest, but it is not.”

Unable to remain still, he rose abruptly and began pacing. “Why? Their reaction was so enthusiastic.” He observed her carefully for an explanation, but all she did was give him a helpless shrug.

“Their decision has to do with the embezzlement that is on everyone’s lips as well as unsubstantiated rumors and gossip. There are unseen forces at work here.” She paused, her quiet anger evident to him. “I’m certain this is only a pause. Once the confusion is explained, the project will be back on track.”

Richard’s anger flared, an anger that hardened his resolve. “This won’t deter us. We’ll proceed, with or without The Society.”

“You must see to this before it becomes public. It is the fuel driving The Society’s fire.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon handed him a letter.

Richard’s hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the letter. The words leaped out at him, stark and unforgiving. The Society—those esteemed volunteers who had promised their unwavering support—withdrew their endorsement. How could they? Richard’s mind raced. He glanced at Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the Society’s emissary, who wasn’t any happier than he was. Again, he read the letter. This insinuation is—

But he couldn’t voice it. Christina. He went pale thinking how she had poured her heart into developing the program, and now to see her so wounded—this would break her heart.

Richard clenched the letter, the paper crumpling in his hand. His gaze shifted to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Yes, we need to tell Christina before she reads the newspaper.” Richard nodded, his resolve hardening. The Society might withdraw their support, but the stars remained indifferent—they would still twinkle, still beckon.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon leaned forward, her eyes sharp as she sketched out a plan on the parchment before her. “Richard,” she began, her voice low and urgent, “we must act swiftly. First, we must tell Christina—before the gossip column spins its lies and half-truths. She deserves honesty, even if it shatters her illusions.”

Richard nodded, his jaw set. Christina, with her unwavering belief in their shared project, deserved protection. Richard clenched his fists as if ready for a fight.

“Next,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued, “you’ll visit your solicitor. Someone is trying to smear your good name. You must seek legal avenues and explore defenses. Embezzlement? Bah! We’ll unravel this thread and expose the true weaver.”

“The rumors have taken on a life of their own,” Richard mused, a hint of frustration clouding his thoughts. “I knew my involvement with the astronomy project might stir the pot, but this? It’s gone further than I anticipated. Now, it’s not just about defending my reputation—it’s about protecting Christina and the work she’s done with me.”

“I,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “have a government contact—an investigator who thrives in the shadows. He’ll trace the whispers back to their source. Trust me, Richard, we will get to the bottom of this.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon reached for a scrap of paper and her quill. She quickly wrote a message, folded the paper, and addressed it. She took the document The Society sent back from Richard, smoothed it out, and refolded it as best she could. Then, together, they rose. Richard’s anger simmered.

When they reached the foyer, Mrs. Dove-Lyon handed her message to Theseus, gave him instructions, and then turned to Richard.

“Come,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon urged. “We have no time to lose. First, to Christina.”

“After we speak with Christina, you are off to your solicitor. When you’re finished with him,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon continued, her gaze unyielding, “meet me at the Lyon’s Den. We’ll share what we’ve found, then make our plans.”

Together, Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Richard left the Lyon’s Den and made their way to the Albemarle Bookshop. The alliance—a pact of unlikely allies united by loyalty and determination—demanded action. Richard nodded, his resolve hardening. He would fight—for honor, for Christina.

The faint jingle from the bookshop’s door opening caught Christina’s attention. She looked up, surprised to see Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Richard approaching her.

Christina placed the book she held on the counter.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. How can I help you?” She looked from one to the other, feeling uneasy. Their warm smiles did little to dispel the sense of foreboding that colored their usual cheerful greeting.

“We would like a few moments of your time, alone if possible.”

Christine’s smile faltered. A very formal Mrs. Dove-Lyon replaced the casual woman she knew and admired. But it was Richard, who said nothing, that frightened her. “Come with me to the back room. No one will bother us there.”

Christina led the way through the shop. She opened the door and gestured for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to enter. “Please, have a seat.” She began to pour tea for the two of them.

Richard hesitated for a moment. “Christina, I’m afraid I come with unfortunate news.” His voice was somber as he glanced at Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

Christina noticed how he silently urged the woman to disclose the contents of the letter in her hand. Her heart raced. What could be so dire that he was unable to tell her himself? How unlike him. She stared at the crumbled document Mrs. Dove-Lyon held.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon stepped forward, composed yet sympathetic, as she extended the crumpled letter to her.

Christina’s gaze moved from the letter to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, then to Richard, a silent query in her glance. After a moment’s pause, she looked back to Mrs. Dove-Lyon and accepted the letter with a steady hand.

“My dear, it pains me to inform you that the Society has decided to withdraw their support for your program.” Christina drew in her breath as the woman’s voice wavered. “I know you’re disappointed, as are Richard and me. I’ve been asked to give you their letter withdrawing their support for your program.”

“I’m afraid I rumpled it after I read it,” Richard said.

Christina opened the document and smoothed out the parchment. Her heart sank as she read the letter, her initial shock giving way to disbelief. “But why?” her voice barely above a whisper as she looked up at Richard and Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

Richard sighed heavily, his eyes reflecting his own pain. “Over the last week, concerns were raised about The Society sponsoring the program.” He sounded defeated. “I’m truly sorry, Christina.”

Christina’s eyes welled with tears as she folded the letter with trembling hands. She looked at them and said, “But why?”

“I’ll get right to the point. There is no easy way to say this except that I am appalled.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon took another piece of paper from her reticule and handed it to her. “Lady Hazelton brought this to me last evening.”

Christina looked at the paper, on personal stationery. She unfolded it and read the short message.

“I write to you with grave concerns regarding the recent flow of funds into the Society’s coffers. It has come to our attention that Mr. St. John, the sponsor of the children’s program, has suddenly come into significant wealth with no discernible explanation. One must question the legitimacy of such boons, especially in light of recent scandals involving financial impropriety. I urge the board to conduct a thorough investigation into the source of his funds before going further with any plans associated with Mr. St. John.”

Christina glanced all over the paper, but there was no indication who had sent it. She glanced at Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

“I cannot believe this.” She looked at Richard. “You are not this type of person.” She shook the paper at him.

“While not stated, I fear this is why the Society withdrew their agreement with you,” Richard explained.

“Since Richard plans to fund the program, they cannot afford to be involved in a scandal.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon sat in the chair by the table.

“At the luncheon, all I heard were accolades ‘…remarkable progress with the children’s program…sponsorship from an anonymous benefactor…surprising generosity.’ However, Lady Hazelton mentioned last night, that now she was hearing ‘…questionable involvement…with the children’s program…sponsorship from an unknown source with dubious intentions.…a suspicious display of generosity…’”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon motioned for Christina to sit with her. “There is something very suspicious going on here. I do not think you are the target.”

“Neither do I.” She glanced at Richard. He sat down next to her. “You’re the target, and our program is the casualty.”

“Richard has much more at stake here. His reputation is his business.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice had an edge that chilled Christina. “He could lose his business, forfeit all his assets, and be deported to New Zealand.”

Christina hadn’t thought what this would do to him. She was all wrapped up in her own disappointment.

“Oh, Richard.” She grabbed his hand. “Please forgive me. I was so—”

“Please, do not feel guilty.” Richard covered her hands with his. “I understand how hard you’ve worked on this project. We came here as soon as we could. We wanted you to hear this from us and not the London Chronicle .”

Christina’s eyes widened, and she squeezed his hand tight until Richard was certain her knuckles were white. “What can I do?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How can we save you?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon leaned in, her expression unwavering. “Christina, we must rally our forces. The Society may have withdrawn their support, but alliances can be forged elsewhere.”

“We’ll seek private investigators,” he declared. “Individuals who specialize in unraveling financial mysteries. They’ll trace the threads of the rumor back to their source.”

Christina’s resolve steadied. “And the newspapers?” she turned from Richard to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “The gossip column—how do we make them understand?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “With some help, we’ll feed them a different story, or better yet, make them eat their words. We’ll be the authors of our own destiny.”

Richard nodded. “And Hughes is our ally. He has people he can rely on. We’ll find the true culprit—the one who sowed these rumors. We’ll get every person we can working on this. The author of these lies will have no place to hide.”

Christina took a deep breath. “We fight for your innocence, Richard.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon placed a hand on Christina’s shoulder. “Indeed,” she murmurs. “We’ll forge our alliance based on trust, loyalty, and truth. Together, we will boldly reclaim your name and reputation, Richard.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon stood, prompting Richard and Christina to follow suit. “Richard and I have no time to waste and must take our leave.”

“Please, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, let me come with you. I cannot sit here and do nothing.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon glanced at the anxious and eager woman. “Of course. You’re more than welcome to accompany me. I’m headed back to Cleveland Row.” She turned to Richard. “Rather than meeting me at The Lyon’s Den, meet me here later this afternoon. We can tell each other what you have found.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon was adamant. “Now. Until later.”

Meanwhile, while Wolf made his way to Falkenham Court, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He relished in the knowledge that he had planted the seeds of gossip and favored the anticipation of watching the game unfold before him.

He went through the iron gate, up to the door, and raised the brass knocker. To his surprise, Lady Grace opened the door.

“Father gave the butler the day off before he left for Colchester. Come, join me in the music room.”

They entered the room, and before she closed the door, she peeked her head outside. “Mr. Kelly, please make certain no one disturbs us.” She faced him with a look of accomplishment. “I have you all to myself.”

“Lady Lily and Lady Beth?” he asked.

“My sisters have gone with Papa to visit my aunt in Colchester. Are you disappointed?”

“Not at all.” Wolf stifled the smirk that started to form. If her father gave the butler the day off, how could she give the man instructions? And if his valet, Theo, had it right. Lord Falkenham had dismissed all his staff. He and Lady Grace were very much alone.

The soft strains of music floated through the parlor. Wolf sat at the grand piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. Beside him, Lady Grace sat perched on the edge of the piano bench, her eyes fixed intently on his hands as he played.

“Like this, Lady Grace,” Wolf murmured, his voice low and melodic as he guided her through the intricate melody. “Just let your fingers follow mine, and you’ll master the technique.”

She placed her hands on the keys. They played a duet of sorts for several minutes. “Yes, that’s right. Now you play on your own.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Lady Grace pulled her hands away from the keyboard.

He glanced at her and realized she was terrified. He returned his attention to the keyboard.

“Your technique has potential. I think, with practice, you would be quite a good pianist.” He glanced at her with a teasing smirk and watched the flush run up her neck and onto her cheeks.

“Go on,” he gestured.

Once again, she placed her hands on the keys and played the piece they had been working on.

“I knew you could play. I should write down the name of that sonata for you. It’s one you should learn.” He reached for a piece of stationery that lay beside the music and quickly quoted down Friedrich Kuhlau’s piano sonatas Opus 26. He folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. “it’s a lively piece that will give your fingers a good exercise. I’ll make certain to send you the sheet music.”

He wasn’t surprised that she played well. “You never do anything halfway. Did you really need this ruse to invite me to visit?”

He returned his attention to the piano and began to play Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 29 with all its stormy emotion.

Lady Grace didn’t watch his fingers gracefully run the arpeggios. She did not note how he made the music sound like trickling water or appreciate how he layered chord upon chord until the music exploded into a beautiful sound. She didn’t note how Wolf was enraptured by the music. At the moment, Wolf saw that he mattered.

As the piece reached its climax, Lady Grace inched closer to him. He was well aware that she invited him under the guise of a piano instructor, but he saw the hunger in her eye. The lady’s intentions lay elsewhere.

Now, a thrill of anticipation filled the air. With a boldness Wolf didn’t know she possessed, Lady Grace reached out and placed her hand over his on the piano keys, her touch sending a jolt of excitement rushing through his veins. His fingers paused for a moment, the music coming to an abrupt halt as he turned to look at her. Her eyes were dark with desire.

“Lady Grace,” he breathed, his voice husky as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. And in that moment, with the strains of music still echoing in the air, his gaze traced the delicate features of her face. When he reached her lips his gaze slipped to her heaving chest and the décolleté of her neckline.

Her breathing was rapid. His gaze moved back to her lips. They parted ever so slightly as her eyes fluttered closed. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips parted more, inviting him in.

He didn’t hesitate. He turned toward her and held her in his arms as he kissed her with a passion that demanded release. She returned his assault, stroke for stroke, leaving them both breathless.

Emotions bombarded Wolf and left him elated but confused. Never before had a woman, any woman, affected him like this. He wanted more. He took full advantage, loving her mouth. When they finally parted, he tucked her head against his chest and held her close. Something powerful and demanding was building inside him.

He rose from the piano bench, lifted her in his arms, and laid her in the chaise. Then, he hurried to the door and turned the key.

“Wolf?” Lady Grace’s soft, dream-filled voice reached his ears.

He smiled, one of those smiles that made women drool and returned to her, loosening his cravat. “So Mr. Kelly won’t,” he paused, “disturb us.”