The Lion's Lady

Chapter Two

London, England, 1814

It was going to be a long night.

The Marquess of Lyonwood let out a controlled sigh and leaned against the mantel of Lord Carlson's receiving room. It wasn't a casual stance but one employed for necessity's sake. By shifting his considerable weight, Lyon was able to ease the throbbing in his leg. The injury was still a constant irritant, and the sharp pain radiating up through his kneecap did absolutely nothing to lighten his somber mood.

Lyon was attending the party under duress, having been successfully nagged into doing his duty by escorting his younger sister, Diana, to the event. Needless to say, he wasn't at all happy about his circumstances. He thought he should try to affect a pleasant expression on his face, yet couldn't quite manage that feat. Lyon was simply in too much pain to care if others noticed his sour disposition or not. He settled on a scowl instead, his usual expression these days, then folded his arms across his massive chest in a gesture of true resignation.

The Earl of Rhone, Lyon 's good friend since Oxford pranks, stood beside him. Both were considered handsome men. Rhone was dark-haired, fair-skinned, and stood six feet in height. He was built on the lean side, always impeccable in dress and taste, and gifted with a lopsided smile that made the young ladies forget all about his crooked nose. They were simply too mesmerized by his enviable green eyes to notice.

Rhone was definitely a lady's man. Mothers fretted over his reputation, fathers worried about his intentions, while unseasoned daughters ignored their parents' cautions altogether, competing quite brazenly for his attention. Rhone drew women to his side in much the same way honey drew a hungry bear. He was a rascal, true, yet too irresistible to deny.

Lyon, on the other hand, had the dubious distinction of being able to send these same sweetly determined ladies screaming for cover. It was an undisputed fact that the Marquess of Lyonwood could clear a room with just one glacial stare.

Lyon was taller than Rhone by a good three inches. Because he was so muscular in chest, shoulders, and thighs, he gave the appearance of being even larger. His size alone wasn't enough to thoroughly intimidate the stronger-hearted ladies hoping to snatch a title, however. Neither were his features, if you could take them just one at a time. Lyon 's hair was a dark golden color, given to curl. The length was left unfashionably longer than society liked. His profile mimicked the statues of Roman soldiers lining

Carlton House. His cheekbones were just as patrician, his nose just as classical, and his mouth just as perfectly sculptured.

The warm color of his hair was Lyon 's only soft feature, however. His brown eyes mirrored cold cynicism. Disillusionment had molded his expression into a firm scowl. The scar didn't help matters much, either. A thin, jagged line slashed across his forehead, ending abruptly in the arch of his right eyebrow. The mark gave Lyon a piratical expression.

And so the gossip makers called Rhone a rake and Lyon a pirate, but never, of course, to either gentleman's face. These foolish women didn't realize how their insults would have pleased both men.

A servant approached the Marquess and said, "My lord? Here is the brandy you requested." The elderly man made the announcement with a formal bow as he balanced two large goblets on a silver tray.

Lyon grabbed both glasses, handed one to Rhone, and then surprised the servant by offering his gratitude. The servant bowed again before turning and leaving the gentlemen alone.

Lyon emptied his glass in one long swallow.

Rhone caught the action. "Is your leg bothering you?" he asked, frowning with concern. "Or is it your intention to get sotted?"

"I never get sotted," Lyon remarked. "The leg is healing," he added with a shrug, giving his friend a roundabout answer.

"You came away lucky this time, Lyon," Rhone said. "You're going to be out of commission for a good six months, maybe more. Thank God for that," he added. "Richards would have you back in jeopardy tomorrow if he could have his way. I do believe it was a blessing your ship was destroyed. You can't very well go anywhere until you build another."

"I knew the risks," Lyon answered. "You don't like Richards, do you, Rhone?"

"He never should have sent you on that last little errand, my friend."

"Richards places government business above personal concerns."

"Above our personal concerns, you mean to say," Rhone corrected. "You really should have gotten out when I did. If you weren't so vital to-"

"I've quit, Rhone."

His friend couldn't contain his astonishment. Lyon knew he should have waited to give him the news, for there was a real concern Rhone would let out a shout. "Don't look so stunned, Rhone. You've been after me to retire for a good while now."

Rhone shook his head. "I've been after you because I'm your friend and very likely the only one who cares what happens to you," he said. "Your special talents have kept you doing your duty longer than a normal man could stand. God's truth, I wouldn't have had the stomach for it. Do you really mean it? You've actually retired? Have you told Richards?"

Rhone was speaking in a furious whisper. He watched Lyon intently.

"Yes, Richards knows. He isn't too pleased."

"He'll have to get used to it," Rhone muttered. He raised his glass in salutation. "A toast, my friend, to a long life. May you find happiness and peace. You deserve a bit of both, Lyon."

Since Lyon 's glass was empty, he didn't share in the toast. He doubted Rhone 's fervent wish would come true anyway. Happiness-in sporadic doses, of course-was a true possibility. But peace… no, the past would never allow Lyon to find peace. Why, it was as impossible a goal as love. Lyon accepted his lot in life. He had done what he believed was necessary, and part of his mind harbored no guilt. It was only in the dark hours of the night, when he was alone and vulnerable, that the faces from the past came back to haunt him. No, he'd never find peace. The nightmares wouldn't let him.

"You're doing it again," Rhone announced, nudging Lyon 's arm to gain his attention.

"Doing what?"

"Frowning all the ladies out of the room."

"It's good to know I've still got the ability," Lyon drawled.

Rhone shook his head. "Well, are you going to frown all night?"

"Probably."

"Your lack of enthusiasm is appalling. I'm in a wonderful mood. The new season always stirs my blood. Your sister must also be eager for all the adventures," he added. "Lord, it's difficult to believe the little brat has finally grown up."

"Diana is excited," Lyon admitted. "She's old enough to start looking for a husband."

"Is she still… spontaneous? It's been over a year now since I last saw her."

Lyon smiled over Rhone 's inept description of his sister's conduct. "If you mean to ask me if she still charges into situations without showing the least amount of restraint, then yes, she's still spontaneous."

Rhone nodded. He looked around the room, then let out a sigh. "Just think of it. A fresh crop of beautiful ladies waiting to be sampled. In truth, I thought their mamas would have made them stay home, what with Jack and his band of robbers still on the prowl."

"I heard the thieves visited Wellingham last week," Lyon commented.

"Caused quite a stir," Rhone interjected with a true grin. "Lady Wellingham took to her bed after making the vow she wasn't going to get up until her emeralds were recovered. An odd reaction, to my way of thinking, when you consider how much thieving her husband does at the gambling tables. The man's a flagrant cheat."

"I understand Jack only robbed the Wellinghams. Is it true he left the guests alone?"

Rhone nodded. "Yes. The man obviously was in a hurry."

"Seems to me he's aching to get caught," Lyon said.

"I don't agree," Rhone answered. "Thus far, he's only stolen from those who I think needed a good set down. I actually admire the man."

When Lyon gave him a puzzling look, Rhone hastened to change the topic. "The ladies would approach us if you'd smile. Then you might begin to enjoy yourself."

"I think you've finally lost your mind. How can you pretend to enjoy this farce?"

"There are those who think you've lost your mind, Lyon. It's a fact you've been secluded from the ton too long."

"And it's a fact you've endured one too many seasons," Lyon answered. "Your mind has turned to mush."

"Nonsense. My mind turned to mush years ago when we drank sour gin in school together. I really do enjoy myself, though. You would, too, if you'd only remember this is all just a game."

"I don't play games," Lyon said. "And war is a better description for this scene."

Rhone laughed, loud enough to draw curious stares. "Tell me this, friend. Are we pitted against the ladies, then?"

"We are."

"And what is their quest? What do they hope to gain if they conquer us?"

"Marriage, of course."

"Ah," Rhone replied, dragging out the sound. "I suppose they use their bodies as their weapons. Is it their battle plan to make us so glazed with lust we'll offer anything?"

"It's all they have to offer," Lyon answered.

"Good Lord, you are as jaded as everyone says. I worry that your attitude will rub off on me."

Rhone shuddered as he spoke, but the effect was ruined by his grin.

"You don't appear to be too concerned," Lyon remarked dryly.

"These ladies are only after marriage, not our lives," Rhone said. "You don't have to play the game if you don't want to. Besides, I'm only an insignificant earl. You, on the other hand, must certainly marry again if the line is to continue forward."

"You know damn well I'm never going to marry again."

Lyon answered. His voice had turned as hard as the marble he was leaning against. "Drop this subject, Rhone. I've no sense of humor when it comes to the issue of marriage."

"You've no sense of humor at all," Rhone pronounced in such a cheerful tone of voice Lyon couldn't help but grin.

Rhone was about to continue his list of Lyon 's other faults when a rather attractive redheaded lady happened to catch his concentration. He gave her his full attention until he spotted Lyon 's little sister making her way over to them.

"Better get rid of your frown," Rhone advised. "Diana's coming over. Lord, she just elbowed the Countess Seringham."

Lyon sighed, then forced a smile.

When Diana came to an abrupt stop in front of her brother, her short-cropped brown curls continued to float around her cherublike face. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, Lyon, I'm so happy to see you smiling. Why, I do believe you're enjoying yourself."

She didn't wait for her brother to reply to her observation but turned to curtsy in front of Rhone. "It's so good to see you again," she said, sounding quite breathless.

Rhone inclined his head in greeting.

"Isn't it remarkable I was able to plead Lyon into coming this evening? He really doesn't like parties very much, Rhone."

"He doesn't?" Rhone asked, sounding so disbelieving Lyon actually laughed.

"Don't jest with her," Lyon said. "Are you enjoying yourself, Diana?" he asked his sister.

"Oh, yes," Diana answered. "Mama will be pleased. I do hope she's still awake when we get home so I can tell her all about tonight. I've just learned Princess Christina will be making an appearance, too. I confess I'm most curious to meet her. Why, I've heard the most wonderful stories about her."

"Who is Princess Christina?" Lyon asked.

It was Rhone who hastened to answer his question. "You've been secluded too long, Lyon, or you surely would have heard of her. Though I haven't actually met the lady, I've been told she's very beautiful. There's an air of mystery surrounding her, too. Her father was ruler of some little principality near Austria 's border. He was unseated during a rather nasty revolution," Rhone continued. "Lady Christina, if we use the title she gained from her mother, has traveled all over the world. Brummel met her and was immediately infatuated. He was the first to call her Princess. The woman neither accepted nor rejected that title."

"What happened to her mother?" Diana asked.

She looked quite spellbound by the story about the princess. Rhone smiled at her eagerness. "A tragedy, I'm told. The mother was weakheaded, and she-"

"What do you mean by weakheaded?" Diana interrupted to ask.

"Insane," Rhone explained. "When the mother learned she was going to have a child, she ran off. Until three months ago, everyone believed both mother and babe were dead."

"What happened to Princess Christina's father?" Diana asked.

"He left England shortly after his wife disappeared. No one has heard of him since. Probably dead by now," Rhone ended with a shrug.

"Oh, the poor Princess," Diana whispered. "Does she have anyone to call family now, or is she all alone?"

"For God's sake, Diana, you don't even know the woman and you look ready to weep for her," Lyon said.

"Well, it is such a sad story," Diana said, defending herself. She turned back to Rhone and added, "I remember how unbearable it was for all of us when James died. Mother still hasn't recovered. She stays hidden in her room pretending all sorts of ills, when it's truly grief that keeps her there."

Rhone took one look at Lyon 's cold expression and immediately hastened to turn the topic around. "Yes, well, we all miss James," he lied, his tone brisk. "I'm anxious to meet Princess Christina, too, Diana. No one has been able to glean a scrap of information about her past. That does make for a mystery to be solved, now doesn't it?"

When Rhone gave Diana a wink, she blushed. Lyon 's sister was still such an innocent. She was fetching enough, too, now that Rhone paused to really take a good look at her. Diana had filled out nicely since he'd last seen her. That realization actually irritated Rhone, though for the life of him he couldn't understand why. "Brat," he suddenly blurted out, "you do look pretty tonight." Rhone grimaced over the roughness he'd heard in his own voice.

Diana didn't seem to notice. She smiled over his compliment, affected another curtsy, and said, "Thank you, Rhone. It is kind of you to notice."

Rhone frowned at Lyon. "Her gown is cut entirely too low. What could you have been thinking of to allow her in public this way? You'd better keep a close eye on her."

"If I keep my eye on you, Diana will be safe enough," Lyon answered.

"All the same, I really think…" The sentence trailed off, for Rhone had just glanced toward the entrance of the salon. He let out a low whistle. Diana quickly turned around to see what held Rhone so enthralled.

"Princess Christina." Diana whispered the obvious, her voice filled with awe.

Lyon was the last to react. When he saw the vision standing across the room, he literally jerked away from the mantel. His body instinctively assumed a battle stance, his muscles tensed, ready.

He was slow to regain control. He realized his hands were actually fisted at his sides and his legs were braced apart for a fight, and he forced himself to relax. The abrupt movement made his knee start throbbing again. Lyon couldn't do anything about the pain now, or the furious pounding in his chest.

And no matter how valiantly he tried, he couldn't seem to take his gaze away from the Princess.

She really was lovely. She was dressed in silver from head to toe. The color belonged to an angel and highlighted the paler threads of her blond hair.

Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her skin appeared to be flawless, and even from the distance separating them Lyon could see the color of her eyes. They were the most startling shade of blue.

Princess Christina neither smiled nor frowned. Her expression showed only mild curiosity. The woman obviously understood her own appeal, Lyon concluded, hoping his cynical nature would save him from heart failure. He wasn't at all pleased about the way his body continued to respond to her.

"Brummel was right," Rhone announced. "The lady is enchanting."

"Oh, I do hope I'll be able to meet her," Diana said. She whispered as though they were in church. "Just look at everyone, Rhone. They are all taken with her. Do you think the Princess will be agreeable to an introduction?"

"Hush, Diana," Rhone said. "Princess Christina wouldn't dare ignore you. You seem to forget just who your brother is."

Diana gave Rhone a timid nod. "Sweetling, straighten your shoulders and quit wringing your hands. You'll give yourself spots. We'll find someone to give us a proper introduction."

Rhone knew Lyon 's little sister hadn't heard the last of his remarks. She'd already picked up her skirts and headed for the entrance. "Now what do we do?" he asked when Lyon grabbed hold of his arm to stop him from chasing after Diana.

"We wait and see," Lyon advised. His voice sounded with irritation.

"Your sister is too impetuous," Rhone muttered, shaking his head. "She's ignoring all her lessons in-"

"It's high time Diana learned the lesson of discretion."

"Let us hope it isn't too painful for her."

Lyon didn't remark on that hope. He continued to give his attention to the beautiful Princess. An elderly couple approached the woman just as Diana came barreling to a halt a bare inch or so in front of them.

Diana almost knocked Christina to her knees. Rhone let out a long groan. The elderly couple didn't even try to hide their displeasure when they were so rudely cut off. Both turned away, staring at each other in obvious embarrassment.

"Oh, God, Diana just cut in front of the Duke and Duchess," Rhone said.

Lyon was infuriated with his sister. He was about to go after her to save her from further humiliation when the Princess took matters into her own hands. Rather nicely, too. She greeted Lyon 's sister with what appeared to be a sincere smile, then took hold of Diana's hands when she spoke to her. Lyon thought the Princess was deliberately giving the impression to all those watching that she and Diana were close friends.

He watched the way Christina motioned Diana over to her side so that both could greet the Duke and Duchess of Devenwood. The Princess included Diana in the brief conversation, too, effectively smoothing over the mistake his sister had made.

Rhone sighed with relief. "Well, what do you know? She's still holding Diana's hand, too. A clever ploy to keep Diana from accidentally belting her one, I would imagine."

Lyon rested his shoulder against the mantel again, smiling over Rhone 's observation. "Diana does like to use her hands when she speaks," he admitted.

"The Princess has a good heart. God's truth, I believe I'm in love."

"You're always in love," Lyon answered.

He wasn't able to keep the irritation out of his voice. Odd, but for some reason Rhone 's jest bothered him. He didn't particularly want Princess Christina added to Rhone 's list of future conquests. It was a ridiculous notion, Lyon realized. Why did he care if his friend chased after the woman or not?

He sighed when he realized he didn't have a ready answer. He did care, however. Fiercely so. And that honest admission soured Lyon 's mood all the more. Damn, he was too old and too tired for an infatuation.

Christina didn't have any idea of the stir she was causing. She patiently waited in the center of the doorway for her Aunt Patricia to finish her conversation with their host. An eager young lady stood beside her, chattering away at such an incredible pace Christina couldn't quite keep up with her. She pretended interest, smiled when it seemed appropriate, and nodded whenever the lady named Diana paused for breath.

Lady Diana announced she was going to fetch her friends for an introduction. Christina was left alone again. She turned to look at all the people openly gawking at her, a serene smile on her face.

She didn't think she was ever going to get used to them. The English were such a peculiar lot. Though she'd been living in London for almost three months now, she was still perplexed by the odd rituals these whites seemed so determined to endure.

The men were just as foolish as their women. They all looked alike, too, dressed as they were in identical black garb. Their white neck wraps were starched to the point of giving the impression they were being strangled to death, an impression strengthened by their red, ruddy cheeks. No, Christina silently amended, they weren't called neck wraps… cravats, she told herself. Yes, that was the proper name for a neck wrap. She mustn't forget again.

There was so much to remember. Christina had studied diligently since arriving on her Aunt Patricia's doorstep in Boston a year ago. She already spoke French and English. The missionary Black Wolf had captured years before had taught her very well.

Her lessons in Boston centered on the behavior expected of a gentle lady. Christina tried to please her aunt, and to ease some of her fears, too. The sour woman was Christina's only link with her mother's family. Later, however, when Christina had conquered the written word well enough to understand the meaning in her mother's diary, her motives had changed. Dramatically. It was now imperative Christina win a temporary place in this bizarre society. She couldn't make any mistakes until her promise was carried out.

"Are you ready, Christina?"

The question was issued by Aunt Patricia. The old woman came to Christina's side and grabbed hold of her arm in a clawlike grip.

"As ready as I shall ever be," Christina answered. She smiled at her guardian, then turned and walked into the throng of strangers.

Lyon watched her intently. He noticed how protective the princess appeared to be toward the wrinkle-faced woman clinging to her arm; noticed, too, how very correct the beautiful woman was in all her actions. Why, it was almost like a routine of some sort, Lyon thought. The Princess greeted each new introduction with a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Next followed a brief conversation, and last, a brisk, efficient dismissal.

Lyon couldn't help but be impressed. The lady was good, all right. No wonder Brummel was so taken with her. The Princess followed all the rules of proper behavior. But Rhone was wrong. She wasn't all that different. No, she appeared to be just as rigid, just as polished, and certainly just as superficial as all the other ladies of the ton. Brummel embraced superficiality with a passion. Lyon detested it.

He wasn't disappointed by his conclusions about the Princess. The opposite was true for he'd felt off balance from the moment he'd first looked at the woman. Now his equilibrium was returning full force. He actually smiled with relief. Then he saw Rhone elbow his way through the crush of guests to get to the Princess. Lyon would have wagered his numerous estates that the woman would pay Rhone far more attention than the other men. Everyone in London knew of Rhone 's family, and though he wasn't the most titled gentleman at the party, he was certainly one of the wealthiest.

Lyon would have lost his bet. Rhone didn't fare any better than all the others. A spark of perverse satisfaction forced a reluctant grin onto Lyon 's face.

"You're losing your touch," Lyon remarked when Rhone returned to his side.

"What do you mean?" Rhone asked, pretending bewilderment.

Lyon wasn't buying it for a minute. He could see the faint blush on Rhone 's face.

He really was starting to enjoy himself, Lyon realized. He decided then to rub salt in Rhone 's wounds like any good friend would. "Was it my imagination, or did Princess Christina give you the same treatment she's given every other man in the room? She really didn't seem too impressed with your charms, old boy."

"You won't do any better," Rhone pronounced. "She really is a mystery. I specifically remember asking her several pertinent questions, yet when I walked away-"

"You mean when she walked away, don't you?"

Rhone gave Lyon a good frown, then shrugged. "Well, yes, when she walked away I realized I hadn't gotten a single answer out of her. At least I don't think I did."

"You were too interested in her appearance," Lyon answered. "A pretty face always did ruin your concentration."

"Oh?" Rhone said, drawing out the sound. "Well, old boy, let's see how many answers you gain. I'll put a bottle of my finest brandy up against one of yours."

"You're on," Lyon announced. He glanced around the room and found Princess Christina immediately. He had the advantage of being taller than everyone else in the room, and the object of his quest was the only blond-haired woman there.

She was standing next to his father's old friend, Sir Reynolds. Lyon was happy to see that Christina's dour-looking guardian had taken a chair across the room.

When Lyon was finally able to catch Sir Reynolds's attention, he motioned with an arrogant tilt of his head for an immediate introduction.

Sir Reynolds nodded-a little too enthusiastically for Lyon 's liking-then leaned down and whispered to the Princess. Christina's back faced Lyon, but he saw her give an almost imperceptible nod. Long minutes elapsed before the heavyset woman speaking to the Princess paused for air. Sir Reynolds seized the opportunity to say goodbye. Lyon concluded his hasty explanation must have included his name, because the woman gave him a frightened look, picked up her skirts, and went scurrying in the opposite direction. She moved like a fat mouse with a cat on her tail.

Lyon 's smile widened. His boast to Rhone hadn't been in vain. He really hadn't lost his touch.

He dismissed the silly woman from his mind when Princess Christina came to stand directly in front of him. Sir Reynolds hovered at her side like a nervous guardian angel. Lyon slowly pulled himself away from his lazy repose, patiently waiting for her to execute the perfect little curtsy he'd seen her give everyone else.

Her head was bowed, but even so he could tell she wasn't quite flawless after all. He could see the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The marks made her look less like a porcelain doll and far more touchable.

The woman barely reached his shoulders. She was too delicate-looking and much too thin for his liking, he decided. Then she looked up at him. Her gaze was direct, unwavering, captivating.

Lyon couldn't remember his own name.

He knew he'd eventually thank God for Sir Reynolds's intervention. He could hear the man's voice drone on and on as he listed Lyon 's numerous titles. The long list gave Lyon time to recover.

He'd never been this rattled. It was her innocent gaze that held him so spellbound. Her eyes, too, he grudgingly admitted. They were unlike any shade of blue he'd ever seen.

He knew he had to get hold of himself. Lyon deliberately dropped his own gaze, settled on her mouth, and realized his mistake at once. He could feel himself reacting physically again.

Sir Reynolds finally ended his litany by stating, "I believe, my dear, you've already been introduced to the Earl of Rhone."

"Yes," Rhone interjected, smiling at Christina.

" Lyon, may I present Princess Christina to you?" Sir Reynolds said, sounding terribly formal.

Her eyes gave her away. Something said during the introduction had unsettled her. She quickly recovered, though, and Lyon knew that if he hadn't been watching her so closely, he would have missed the surprise in her gaze.

"I'm honored to meet you, sir," Christina whispered.

Her voice appealed to him. It was soft, sensual. The unusual accent was noticeable, too. Lyon had traveled extensively, yet couldn't put his finger on the origin. That intrigued him almost as much as his senseless urge to grab hold of her, drag her off into the night, and seduce her.

Thank God she couldn't know what was going on inside his mind. She'd go screaming for a safe haven then, no doubt. Lyon didn't want to frighten her, though. Not just yet.

" Rhone has been Lyon 's friend for many years," Sir Reynolds interjected into the awkward silence.

"I'm his only friend," Rhone commented with a grin.

Lyon felt Rhone nudge him. "Isn't that true?"

He ignored the question. "And are you a Princess?" he asked Christina.

"It would seem to many that I am," she replied.

She hadn't quite answered his question, Lyon realized. Rhone coughed-a ruse to cover his amusement, Lyon supposed with a frown.

Christina turned to Rhone. "Are you enjoying yourself this evening?"

"Immensely," Rhone announced. He looked at Lyon and said, "Your questions?"

"Questions?" Christina asked, frowning now.

"I was just wondering where you call home," Lyon said.

"With my Aunt Patricia," Christina replied.

" Lyon, surely you remember Lord Alfred Cummings," Sir Reynolds interjected with a great show of enthusiasm. "He was an acquaintance of your father's."

"I do recall the name," Lyon answered. He tried yet couldn't seem to take his gaze away from Christina long enough to spare a glance for Reynolds. It was probably rude, Lyon thought, even as he realized he wasn't going to do anything about it.

"Well, now," Sir Reynolds continued, "Alfred was appointed to the colonies years back. He died in Boston, God rest his soul, just two or three years ago, and the Countess returned home to England with her lovely niece."

"Ah, then you've been in England two years?" Lyon asked.

"No."

It took Lyon a full minute before he realized she wasn't going to expound upon her abrupt answer. "Then you were raised in the colonies." It was a statement, not a question, and Lyon was already nodding.

"No."

"Were you born there?"

"No," Christina answered, staring up at him with a hint of a smile on her face.

"But you lived in Boston?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

He really hadn't meant to raise his voice, but Princess Christina was proving to be extremely exasperating. Rhone 's choked laughter wasn't helping matters much either.

Lyon immediately regretted letting her see his irritation, certain she'd try to bolt at the first opportunity. He knew how intimidating he could be.

"Sir, are you displeased with me because I wasn't born in the colonies?" Christina suddenly asked. "Your frown does suggest as much."

He heard the amusement in her voice. There was a definite sparkle in her eyes, too. It was apparent she wasn't the least bit intimidated. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was actually laughing at him.

"Of course I'm not displeased," Lyon announced. "But are you going to answer all my questions with a yes or no?" he inquired.

"It would seem so," Christina said. She gave him a genuine smile and waited for his reaction.

Lyon 's irritation vanished. Her bluntness was refreshing, her smile captivating. He didn't try to contain his laughter.

The booming sound ricocheted around the room, drawing startled expressions from some of the guests.

"When you laugh, sir, you sound like a lion," Christina said.

Her comment nudged him off center. It was such an odd remark to make. "And have you heard the roar of lions, Christina?" he asked, dropping her formal title.

"Oh, many times," Christina answered before she thought better of it.

She actually sounded like she meant what she said. That, of course, didn't make any sense at all. "Where would you have heard such a sound?"

The smile abruptly left her face. She'd inadvertently been drawn into revealing more than caution dictated.

Lyon waited for her to answer him. Christina gave him a wary look, then turned to Sir Reynolds. She bid him goodnight, explaining that she and her aunt had promised to make an appearance at another function before quitting the evening. She turned back to Lyon and Rhone and dismissed them both with cool efficiency worthy of a queen.

Lyon wasn't a man used to being dismissed.

Princess Christina was gone before he could mention that fact to her.

She knew she had to get away from him. She could feel her composure faltering. Her guardian was seated in a chair against the wall. Christina forced herself to walk with a dignified stride until she reached her aunt's side.

"I believe we should prepare to leave now," she whispered.

The Countess had lived with her niece long enough to know something was amiss. Her advanced years hadn't affected her keen mind or her physical shape. She all but bounded out of her chair, anchored herself to Christina's arm, and headed for the door.

Lyon stood with Rhone and Sir Reynolds. All three men watched Christina and her aunt make a hasty farewell to their host. "I'll be over tomorrow to get that bottle of brandy," Rhone announced with a nudge to get Lyon 's attention.

" Rhone, if you jam your elbow into my ribs one more time, I swear I'll break it," Lyon muttered.

Rhone didn't look worried by the threat. He whacked his friend on the shoulder. "I believe I shall go and guard your sister for you, Lyon. You don't seem capable of the task."

As soon as Rhone left his side, Lyon turned to Sir Reynolds. "What do you know about Patricia Cummings?" he asked. "The truth, if you please, and no fancy fencing."

"You insult me, Lyon," Sir Reynolds announced, grinning a contradiction to his comment.

"You're known for your diplomacy," Lyon answered. "Now, about Christina's guardian. What can you tell me about her? Surely you knew her when you were younger."

"Of course," Reynolds said. "We were always invited to the same functions. I know my comments won't go any further, so I'll give the black truth to you, Lyon. The woman's evil. I didn't like her back then, and I don't like her now. Her beauty used to make up for her… attitude," he said. "She married Alfred when his older brother took ill. She believed he'd die at any moment. Patricia was like a vulture, waiting to inherit the estates. Alfred's brother outfoxed her, though. Lived a good ten years beyond everyone's expectations. Alfred was forced to take an appointment to the colonies, else be packed off to debtor's prison."

"What about Patricia's father? Didn't he attempt to settle his son-in-law's debts? I would have thought the embarrassment would have swayed him, unless, of course, he didn't have enough money."

"Oh, he was plenty rich enough," Sir Reynolds announced. "But he'd already washed his hands of his daughter."

"Because she married Alfred, perchance?"

"No, that isn't how the rumor goes," Reynolds said, shaking his head. "Patricia was always an abrasive, greedy woman. She was responsible for many cruelties. One of her little jests ended in tragedy. The young lady made the butt of her joke killed herself. I don't wish to go into further detail, Lyon, but let it suffice to say she doesn't appear to have changed her colors over the years. Did you notice the way she watched her niece? Gave me the shudders."

Lyon was surprised by the vehemence in Sir Reynolds's voice. His father's old friend was known for his calm, easygoing disposition. Yet now he was literally shaking with anger. "Were you the victim of one of her cruelties?" he asked.

"I was," Reynolds admitted. "The niece seems to be such a gentle, vulnerable little flower. She wasn't raised by her aunt. I'm sure of it. I pity the poor child, though. She's going to have a time of it trying to please the old bitch. The Countess will no doubt sell her to the highest bidder."

"I've never heard you speak in such a manner," Lyon said, matching Reynolds's whisper. "One last question, sir, for I can tell this conversation distresses you."

Sir Reynolds nodded.

"You said the Countess's father was a rich man. Who gained his estates?"

"No one knows. The father settled his affections on the younger daughter. Her name was Jessica."

"Jessica was Christina's mother?"

"Yes."

"And was she as demented as everyone believes?"

"I don't know, Lyon. I met Jessica several times. She seemed to be the opposite of her sister. She was sweet-tempered, shy-terribly shy. When she married, her father was extremely pleased. He strutted around like a rooster. His daughter, you see, had captured a king. I can still remember the glorious balls held in their honor. The opulence was staggering. Something blackened, though. No one really knows what happened." The elderly man let out a long sigh. "A mystery, Lyon, that will never be solved, I imagine."

Though he'd promised to curtail his questions, Lyon was too curious to drop the topic just yet "Did you know Christina's father then? A king, you say, yet I've never heard of him."

"I met him, but I never really got to know him well. His name was Edward," Reynolds remembered with a nod.

"Don't recall his last name. I liked him. Everyone did. He was most considerate. And he didn't hold with pomp. Instead of lording it over us, he insisted everyone call him baron instead of king. He'd lost his kingdom, you see."

Lyon nodded. "It's a riddle, isn't it?" he remarked. "This Jessica does intrigue me."

"Why is that?"

"She married a king and then ran away from him."

"Jessica's reasons went to the grave with her," Sir Reynolds said. "I believe she died shortly after Christina was born. No one knows more than what I've just related to you, Lyon. And after your rather one-sided conversation with the lovely Princess, it would seem evident to me she's going to keep her secrets."

"Only if I allow it," Lyon said, grinning over the arrogance in his remark.

"Ah, then you have taken an interest in the Princess?" Sir Reynolds asked.

"Mild curiosity," Lyon answered with a deliberate shrug.

"Is that the truth, Lyon, or are you giving me fancy fencing now?"

"It is the truth."

"I see," Reynolds said, smiling enough to make Lyon think he didn't really see at all.

"Do you happen to know where Christina and her guardian were going when they left here? I heard Christina tell you they had one more stop to make before finishing the evening."

"Lord Baker's house," Reynolds said. "Do you plan to drop in?" he asked, his voice bland.

"Reynolds, don't make more out of this than it really is," Lyon said. "I merely wish to find out more about the Princess. By morning my curiosity will be appeased."

The briskness in Lyon 's voice suggested to Reynolds that he stop his questions. "I haven't greeted your sister yet. I believe I'll go and say hello to her."

"You'll have to be quick about it," Lyon announced. "Diana and I are going to be leaving in just a few minutes."

Lyon followed Reynolds over to the crush of guests. He allowed Diana several minutes to visit and then announced it was time to leave.

Diana's disappointment was obvious. "Don't look so sad," Sir Reynolds said. "I believe you aren't going home just yet." Sir Reynolds started chuckling.

Lyon wasn't the least amused. "Yes, well, Diana, I had thought to stop by Baker's place before taking you home."

"But Lyon, you declined that invitation," Diana argued. "You said he was such a bore."

"I've changed my mind."

"He isn't a bore?" Diana asked, looking completely bewildered.

"For God's sake, Diana," Lyon muttered, giving Reynolds a glance.

The harshness in Lyon 's voice startled Diana. Her worried frown said as much.

"Come on, Diana. We don't want to be late," Lyon advised, softening his tone.

"Late? Lyon, Lord Baker doesn't even know we're going to attend his party. How can we be late?"

When her brother merely shrugged, Diana turned to Sir Reynolds. "Do you know what has come over my brother?" she asked.

"An attack of mild curiosity, my dear," Sir Reynolds answered. He turned to Lyon and said, "If you'll forgive an old man's interference, I would like to suggest that your sister stay here for a bit longer. I would be honored to see her home."

"Oh, yes, Lyon, please, may I stay?" Diana asked.

She sounded like an eager little girl. Lyon wouldn't have been surprised if she started clapping her hands. "Do you have a particular reason to stay?" he asked.

When his sister started blushing, Lyon had his answer. "What is this man's name?" he demanded.

" Lyon," Diana whispered, looking mortified. "Don't embarrass me in front of Sir Reynolds," she admonished.

Lyon sighed in exasperation. His sister had just repeated his opinion that Baker was a bore, and now she had the audacity to tell him he was embarrassing her. He gave her a good frown. "We're going to discuss this later, then," he announced. "Thank you, Reynolds, for keeping a close watch on Diana."

" Lyon, I don't need a keeper," Diana protested.

"You've yet to prove that," Lyon said before he nodded farewell to Sir Reynolds and left the room.

He was suddenly most eager to get to the bore's house.