Page 9 of Enchanted By the Lyon
Editor of the Teatime Tattler
“Bloody Hell,” Lucius cursed setting down the newspaper. “Who the devil saw me last night?”
Leopold shrugged as took another attempt at eating his breakfast. “Could have been anyone. I swear that damn editor has reporters hiding everywhere. Nothing escapes them.”
“I barely had a conversation with Mrs. Vaughn other than to thank her for her assistance to Asher,” Lucius grumbled in irritation before reaching for his coffee.
A low chuckle left his brother’s lips. “I’m sure the reporter who saw you leave Virtue’s townhouse could only surmise that she had left you… well… unfulfilled,” Leopold said with a wicked grin.
“Not that my mistress should be a topic of conversation, but Virtue is perfectly capable of seeing to my needs,” Lucius warned his brother before continuing to eat.
Leopold shrugged. “I’m sure once Mother sees that print, she’ll be summoning you to her home. After all, you’re not getting any younger and she wants grandchildren. You know how she expects you to marry soon.”
“And she can be kept waiting. I have no desire to see myself wed to some woman without any thought in her head except on what to wear and who cares nothing for me but only my wealth and title.”
“Which is why I’m glad to be born the second son. I have no responsibilities other than to see myself entertained,” Leopold said with another laugh.
“And keep yourself out of debt. I don’t mind giving you your quarterly allowance as Father did before he passed but I will not have the estate paying for your frivolous nature,” Lucius proclaimed in another warning.
“Frivolous? Me? I am hardly irresponsible when it comes to money, brother.”
Lucius scowled as he looked over at his brother, who appeared contrite enough. Maybe he was being too hard on his sibling. “Just be careful if you return to the Lyon’s Den. I don’t wish for either of us to be in debt or beholden to the Black Widow of Whitehall.”
“I should issue you the same warning, brother. You, after all, are of a more marriageable age. I may have my own business dealings to keep myself in the lap of luxury and not be completely dependent on an allowance, but I am, again, only a second son with no title.”
His brother had a point and he wondered if perhaps he should send a note to Valentine to cancel his evening entertainment. But he had already told Val he’d be in attendance at the Lyon’s Den tonight so Lucius didn’t see any reason to be alarmed. A few games of chance would be fine, and wouldn’t cause Lucius any financial problem should he lose a few hands.
“Just remember what I’ve warned you about, Leo. No going into debt with the Black Widow of Whitehall,” Lucius warned. “Or getting matched.”
Leopold finished what remained on his plate and leaned back in his chair with a grin. “You sound just like Father when he took me to task,” his brother said before continuing. “He’d be proud of you, Lucius.”
Lucius scoffed at the idea. “I highly doubt that but appreciate your words. Mother continues to remind me that I will never live up to his memory.”
“And you need to stop listening to her harping. You more than live up to Father’s memory. You only need to believe it yourself.”
Lucius had no reply and excused himself from the table. He went to his study to take care of business matters he had neglected the day before. When there was a knock on his door, his butler entered carrying a silver dish.
“This was just delivered for you, my lord,” he said.
Lucius reached for the envelope before nodding to his butler. “Thank you, Merrit.”
The man bowed and left the study and when he’d closed the door, Lucius turned over the message. The emblem for the Lyon’s Den was stamped in the red seal wax and he wondered what this was about.
Then he broke the seal and quickly read the invitation. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was holding a special event where the ladies would be joining the men for a masquerade ball in two weeks. This was certainly unexpected since the men and women of the Lyon’s Den rarely met in the same space—unless the owner was up to her matchmaking endeavors.
He flipped the envelope over again and noticed his brother’s name written beneath his own name.Leopold is obviously too naïve to attend and not get captured. Look how easily he quaffed that noxious green drink on a dare. Honestly, he’d be matched to a miss in a moment, unless I attend the masquerade as well, to keep an eye on him.
He smiled, knowing how he did enjoy a masquerade. Thinking of the hours where he could be anyone behind a mask, he began to look forward to an evening where anything could be possible.
Chapter Six
Cassandra stared ather reflection in the mirror as her maid Fanny performed the finishing touches on her hair. Nodding her approval, Cassandra stood and retrieved her reticule from a nearby table.
“I’m so late,” she complained while rushing toward the door.
“You’ll be fine, milady,” Fanny answered while quickly placing a shawl around Cassandra’s shoulders. “The marchioness hasn’t gone down to the front parlor as of yet.”
“Are you certain? I’d hate to keep her waiting,” Cassandra replied opening her bedroom door.
