Chapter Four

P atience fiddled with the beading on her reticule as she sat waiting for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to enter the ladies' parlor. By the time she and Cassandra arrived at the side entrance to the Lyon's Den, Patience's nerves had been stretched to their limits. She had a moment of surprise to see two women who guarded the door and was even more taken aback when they were shown to the parlor and the few women who lounged there had been politely asked to leave. Patience wasn't sure if she should feel honored or scared out of her wits for whatever was about to happen to upend her life.

"Ah… Mrs. Vaughn and Mrs. Moore… how kind of you to take a few moments from your evening to meet with me," the owner of the establishment said as she entered the room.

Patience jumped up from her seat and dropped into a curtsey while the lady dressed all in black strode across the room and sat in her chair. She motioned for them to do the same. Cassandra had told her that no one had ever seen the widow's face, so it was no surprise to see the heavy veil that concealed everything. She was hard pressed to detect even a hint of the woman's features.

"It was very generous of you to see us," Patience said when the awkward silence as the woman apparently inspected her became too much to bear.

"Yes… well… I like to take a few moments to meet all my new clients who have been so good as to pay for the matches I can make," Mrs. Dove-Lyon proclaimed with a wave of her hand. "You, Mrs. Moore, are a bit different than some of the other ladies who are seeking a husband."

Patience was startled by the woman's words. "Me? Why I'm nobody of any importance."

"Perhaps not yet , but that will change once you are matched with a member of the ton . A sterling reputation will be mandatory." The veiled figure turned her attention to Cassandra. "I thought she was prepared to do whatever it took to make a good match."

"She is," Cassandra answered taking Patience's hand. "Are you not, dearest friend?"

Cassandra's pleading eyes could only have Patience nodding her head. "Of course, I will do whatever it takes," she agreed before continuing. "I meant no disrespect and appreciate all your efforts on my behalf."

"Very well," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said nodding. "If you are prepared to move forward, I will then tell you that I have procured a nursing position for you. Mrs. Vaughn informed me of your nursing skills."

"You know of someone in need of a nurse?" Patience asked with wide eyes. She had never thought that she would be asked something of this nature. True, her skills as a nurse had been invaluable during the war and she did what she could to help. But she certainly never thought that those skills would be of any use to her now.

"The position is with a local doctor who administers his treatments to wealthy patrons in his home so he can better manage their care. Wilbur Thornberry is the family doctor for the Worthingtons. The Duke and Duchess highly recommend him."

Patience still failed to see how this situation might aid in her becoming accepted by the very people who had snubbed her for most of her life. There was great value in nursing, to be sure, and yet she couldn't imagine it was the kind of task a high society lady would undertake.

"I can see for myself you are still skeptical about working for Dr. Thornberry, but I assure you, he is a good man and is looking for nurses with your skills. He will hold you in the highest esteem and only has the best interests of his patients in mind. There is nothing wrong with lending aid to those who are in need, Mrs. Moore, and this will fit perfectly well into my plans for you," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said.

Cassandra leaned forward. "This doctor still attends to the Duke and Duchess of Worthington?" she asked confirming that he was well established.

"Yes. If they have no issue with this doctor bringing their children into the world, I see no reason why I, too, can't trust him."

Cassandra turned to gaze upon Patience. "What do you think?" she inquired.

Patience nodded her consent. "Very well, as long as you feel this will better my chances."

"I will send over all the particulars to Mrs. Vaughn's residence."

Cassandra smiled. "We cannot thank you enough, Mrs. Dove-Lyon."

"I am only too happy to help those who are in need of my special abilities," she proclaimed as she came to a stand. "One last thing, Mrs. Moore."

"Yes, madam?" Patience said waiting for the rest of her fate to be sealed by this woman.

"Staying with Mrs. Vaughn will not be acceptable for much longer. She will need to be working on her own reputation soon enough. Instead, I suggest you make amends with your family and return to their household. They are good, honest people from what I have been told. It would be in your best interest to reach out to them. Now… best of luck at the tables and enjoy your evening at the Lyon's Den."

Her family ? Does she honestly think it would be that simple after her father had cut all ties with her? After the shock wore off and the widow left the room, Patience finally took a deep breath and turned to her friend.

"This is far more than I was prepared to take on, Cassie," Patience confessed. "Whatever made you think I could accept her terms?"

"The Widow of Whitehall is known for her matchmaking skills, Patience. She knows how best to restore tarnished reputations and ensure her clients are matched with their perfect person."

"I'm just not certain this is going to be worth it. Why do I need a husband anyway? I'm perfectly fine the way things are now," she huffed.

"You know as well as I that things are not fine. Not when living with me has made you out to be one of those wicked widows even though that is so far from the truth."

Patience gave her friend a smirk. "I don't mind the association, and you know it. Honestly, I've rather enjoyed it. It makes me feel like I'm one of the ton . The articles in the Teatime Tattler never mention my low birth. I suppose it makes for a less interesting story to talk of a fallen woman who truly didn't have very far to fall."

"Well, we are going to change all that. You've already had the worst of what society can bring with its censure and judgment, but I intend to see to it that you finally have the best, as well. I bet by the end of the season, if not before, you'll be married to at the very least a viscount," Cassandra said with a bright smile.

The two women left the parlor and Cassandra began telling Patience all about the specifics of what she should and should not do within the Lyon's Den. There weren't a lot of rules to follow and Patience didn't need to worry about running into men, since their gambling took place on a different floor. Aside from the staff working for Mrs. Dove-Lyon, which included a number of women in various roles, the only time ladies and gentlemen encountered one another was when Mrs. Dove-Lyon arranged for their meeting. Both Moriah and Josephine had met their prospective husbands in the Lyon's Den garden, but she had heard of others who met in a private office or a salon of the widow's choosing.

After sampling the buffet table and with a flute of champagne in her hand, Patience and Cassandra made their way to the observation gallery on the ladies' floor where the women could observe the men down below as they gambled the night away. Cassie informed her it was another way to be seen without being required to interact, and that sometimes the gallery was private when the Widow of Whitehall was arranging a match. Luckily, such was not the case on this evening, and Patience had a clear view of the men below. The men were the elite of Society. Dukes and marquises. Earls and barons. All men who came to gamble the night away—risking their purses, their pride… or perhaps even more.

She heard Cassandra give a heavy sigh of pleasure and she turned to watch her friend as her gaze traveled to the men below.

"I've seen that look before, although I admit it has been some time. Which one of them has you all breathless?" Patience asked as she began scanning the men for a viable candidate. There were so many fine-looking gentlemen in attendance it could have been any number of them.

"Middle table, center of the room with the woman dealer wearing a mask," Cassandra answered never taking her eyes off her target.

Patience found the table but there were four men sitting there. One she immediately discounted. She couldn't imagine Cassie would sigh over a bald-headed man who appeared as though he had eaten his way through the entire buffet table. But any one of the other three might be the man she watched.

"Which one?" Patience finally asked.

"He just placed his bet," Cassandra whispered before she reached for her fan and began fluttering it before her overheated face.

Patience watched the gentlemen who had tossed his bet into the center of the table. Good heavens! That man was beyond handsome, and Patience could understand Cassie's infatuation. And beyond his fine features and excellent figure, he also had an air of command to him, as if he was accustomed to exerting his will on the world until it reframed itself precisely as he wished. Every strand of his black hair was perfectly in place. His clothing immaculately cut from materials of the highest of quality and showed not the slightest rumple or crease. He tossed his cards on the table when he apparently lost the round, but his look showed that he didn't care that he had lost a small fortune, and that fascinated Patience. A man like that appeared as though he had the reckless disposition of a daredevil, and despite his good looks and wealth, she wasn't sure he was the type of man Cassandra should pursue. He would only break her heart… again.

"Who is he?" Patience finally asked.

"Lucius, Earl of Blackthorn."

"Are you acquainted with him?"

An unladylike snort left her friend. "Only by his reputation. When it comes to women, he's considered quite a rake. I heard he only recently took up a new mistress."

"That doesn't sound very promising," Patience replied placing her hand on Cassandra's arm. "Please be careful. I don't want you to get hurt again."

"You don't need to worry about me. You know how I always land on my feet." Cassandra turned away from the men below. "Let's go try our hand at one of the tables. I'm feeling especially lucky tonight."

Cassandra didn't wait for Patience who continued to stare below at the man Cassandra clearly had feelings for. She shook her head thinking how unlikely it was that the two of them would come together. With thoughts of her friend occupying her mind, she left the balcony and entered the women's gambling room but playing cards wasn't appealing to her as she worried about Cassandra. Instead, she skirted around the tables toward the back of the room where she saw an area with stairs leading up and down to the other floors. Curiosity got the better of her and she made her way inside the alcove.

The sound of footsteps coming from above made her realize that the brothel was most likely on the next floor. She was about to turn around when she heard someone rushing down the stairs far too quickly. Moments later, a man came flying into her view as his feet flew out from under him.

To her horror, the man—grasping for anything to keep him upright—ended up latching on to Patience. She was taken about the waist as he ran into her, sending them both skidding on the marble floor. They avoided a tumble, thankfully, but they could not avoid an uncomfortably close embrace.

"Good heavens," she murmured staring at the knot of his cravat that was greatly askew.

"You saved me from a most unpleasant fall, my lady."

Patience shivered as she listened to the baritone of his voice as though the vibration of his tone went straight through her. She raised her eyes to see his hazel ones staring at her with what she took as a seductive gleam. A lock of his blond hair fell rakishly over his forehead, and he took a hand to push it back into place. A brief, unaccountable flicker of disappointment filled her that he had denied her the pleasure of doing the task herself.

It must be the blond hair… the shade had always been her downfall. She had placed her hands upon his muscular chest to steady herself, and she could feel the strength of him beneath her fingertips. If she were to guess, he was most likely magnificent beneath the linen of his shirt. Sculpted like the smooth stone of statues of the Greek gods. She shook her head from the thoughts of his naked body as the voice of reason entered her head and reminded her that she was still touching him.

She gave him a gentle push and she saw his own disappointment when he released her. She tried not to think about how handsome he was from his chiseled cheek bones to the slight cleft in his chin. She shouldn't be interested in a man who obviously had just been upstairs with a prostitute. It just had to be those golden locks that were impairing her ability to think clearly.

"Thank you for releasing me," she said quietly.

"Thank you again for saving me," he said, and Patience swore his voice was even huskier than it was the first time he spoke these words. "Might I inquire as to your name?"

She widened her eyes at his request but shook her head no. "I don't think that would be wise. Please excuse me." She turned to leave but her gloved hand was gently taken into his warm one. His thumb ran over the back of it, and a thought crept into her mind about how she wished she could feel his skin touching her own. She raised her eyes to his and her heart leapt into her throat.

"Please don't rush off. How am I to find you again if I don't know your name?"

"I'm certain mine is not the first woman's name you don't know here at the Lyon's Den, sir," she replied softly. She certainly didn't want to become familiar with anyone when Mrs. Dove-Lyon was using her matchmaking skills to ensure Patience found a suitable husband. Cassandra had paid an abhorrent amount of money and she wouldn't disappoint her dearest friend. Besides… what were the chances that it would be this exact stranger that the Widow of Whitehall had in mind for her? Hardly likely.

"No but then it's not my custom to practically fall into a woman's arms. It's usually the other way around." Though his tone was teasing, she could see for herself that he had charm and plenty of it, so he likely did have a number of women falling into his arms. But she would not be one of them.

"I will have to take your word for it." A small laugh left her causing his smile to broaden.

"Tell me who you are."

Patience wasn't about to tell him her real name. Considering some preferred to use an alias here, she decided to do the same. "Do you really wish to know my name, or is this some sort of intrigue where you are now determined to get your way since I had the audacity to tell you no?

"Perhaps it is both." He flashed a smile.

"And you seek a name," she tilted her head questioning, a smile playing at her lips.

"Any name, my lady," he urged taking a step closer.

"Any name?" she murmured with a touch of devilment building up inside her. Her eyes met his. "You may call me… Persephone."

"Persephone," he echoed, his smile widening.

Laughter escaped his lips and for just a moment she wondered what those lips would feel like on her own. She must be losing her mind and really should return to the ladies' gambling room. She should leave his side. She shouldn't continue to stay here with a man who was a complete stranger and most likely a rake of the worst kind.

But for whatever the reason—and the first time since she became a widow—Patience wanted this one moment to last for a bit longer. She had the notion after tonight she'd never see this man again anyway. She couldn't figure out why but he intrigued her. Maybe there was a little bit of a wicked widow in her after all…