Page 5 of The Lyon Whisperer
There were brawny looking men standing at attention, eyeing the crowd with menace. Bouncers, no doubt.
But the majority of the staff—dealers, servers, and the like—were female. Their clothing ran the gamut from outlandishly jewel-bedecked gowns like that of their dealer, to scantily-dressed women, seemingly outfitted in scarves and lace, to women in full-on men’s suits.
He shook his head. Women running about in trousers. Great Britain was in a sad state.Still.It was good of Culver to try to shake him out of his doldrums. The man’s devil-may-care attitude did have an uplifting effect.
The dealer snapped down five cards each for him and Culver.
Culver eyed his hand. “That’s better, lass.”
Fallsgate laid his palm atop the waxy cards intent on peeling them back. He paused when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a woman dressed in widow’s weeds from her black lace gown to her netted cap, concealing all but her mouth.
She glided between the gaming tables, weaving this way and that, occasionally stopping to observe the goings-on before continuing on her way. She could only be the infamous Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon, the so-called Black Widow of Whitehall.
As he followed her progress, her face shifted in his direction and he got the distinct impression she looked directly at him, not that he could see her eyes behind that netting.
“Are you going to ante up, man, or do you plan to gawk at Bessie all night?”
Hehumphedbut obliged, tossing in his chips though the hand he’d been dealt was not as good as the last several. “You know the lady?”
“I’ve spoken with her on many occasions. But would I know her if I passed her on the street? Not a chance, and I don’t know anyone of our acquaintance who would.”
“You don’t say? How old do you think she is? To run a place like this, you’d think she’d have to be…” He shrugged. “Of a certain age. On the other hand, she moves like a woman in her prime.”
“Who knows? Rumor has it her late husband, Colonel Lyon, left her this grand house, and a bucket-load of debt to go with it. Most agree he was much older than she when they married. As to what her station was prior to that event, some say she was a courtesan, others say a well-born lady.”
“What about these strange wagers I see taking place around us?”
“What you see ’ain’t the half of it,” Culver said with feeling. “I hear tell she practices a bit of unusual matchmaking.”
“Matchmaking?” Fallsgate erupted.
“Men with titles but no fortune and ladies with the means, but perhaps without the social standing to make a good alliance, if you know what I mean?”
Fallsgate scowled, thinking of his daughter again.
Culver discarded, then swiped up his replacements.
Fallsgate followed suit.
“Call?” Culver asked, fingering his mustache.
Fallsgate affected an air of offense. “You’re so anxious for me to strip you of all your blunt, then?”
Culver guffawed. “A resounding no to that, Fallsgate. If you must know, m’ nephew would skin me alive. He’s had me on a short leash since he returned from the peninsula last year.”
Fallsgate slanted him a glance at the mention of his nephew. The possibility LordChaseCulver had shared yesterday afternoon’s debacle with his uncle was a possibility he didn’t wish to entertain.
“On a leash, you say? How’s that? You are the viscount, are you not? And he your heir, and not the reverse?”
Culver nodded and, never removing his gaze from his hand, twisted one corner of his bushy silver mustache. “Yes, yes. The thing is, he’s the one’s got the smarts and the discipline in the family to keep us all afloat. Boy was born a man, if you know what I mean?”
“I do not, I’m afraid.”
“Keeps his eyes on the prize, never loses sight of a goal. He has a knack for saving, investing what he’s saved, and managing resources—including people.” He shrugged. “He’s got codes he lives by. Came to us that way, after the death of his father. I say, you remember my brother Jason, do you not?”
Fallsgate nodded slowly. He remembered Culver’s younger brother. A stubborn hot-headed son of a bitch if ever there was one. Some went so far as to call him crazed.
“Call,” Fallsgate said.
