Lyon’s Prey

should—or at least that was what his screaming head was impressing upon him after being subjected to the cruel morning sun. He should speak to Dean, his man of business, and secure a new valet. He would if these were better times. He would hire one that obeyed his wishes and did not foist his own opinions on his betters. “Devil it!”
Evan took a deep breath and rolled over, resolved to face the sun. Who am I kidding? I only made it home from the club intact last night because Charles collected me. No other valet would not have made it his business. Evan had been totally foxed and staggering in the alley when Charles had coaxed him into the coach. He vaguely recalled sitting against the dark velvet blue squabs of his carriage. He could have been robbed, killed, or worse had Charles not come for him.
“You have visitors, my lord,” Charles’s deep voice broke into his thoughts.
“This early? Tell them I am not available,” Evan rasped.
“I took the liberty of accepting the message from Bernard for you, my lord.” The valet drew a breath. “Your bath is already prepared. I do not believe either of these callers will easily be put off. I believe you should see them,” Charles urged quietly.
“Really? You feel I should see them?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and Evan lamented his tone at once. God, my head hurts. “Why do you think I should see them?” He tried to ask more plaintively.
“Because, my lord, Lord and Lady Rivers are here to see you, and they have Lord Edward.” Charles hesitated. “And the other woman.”
“There is another woman besides my sister?” Evan started.
“Yes, my lord. While I did not catch her name, the lady was quite emphatic that she should see you. She told Bernard that your carriage nearly killed her brother while they were shopping in Mayfair yesterday afternoon. I overheard her say she is not going away until she sees you,” Charles responded evenly. “Your sister is with Lord Edward and Lord Rivers in the nursery and has requested you meet her there. Bernard placed the other visitor in the study and asked that tea be served.”
“What the hell? Dammit!” Evan could not be mad at Charles. He was, however, mad at himself. He knew he had been drinking and gaming a fair amount. Perhaps he needed to . . . what, exactly? He had little memory of the day before. This had happened in Mayfair? Had he just left the house? Crikey! He could not even remember leaving. Had it happened on the way to the Lyon’s Den? He had no memory from the gaming hell, except winning. He always won.
Guilt gripped his heart, a now-familiar feeling. Guilt was all he felt these days when he was not drinking. He needed to parent Edward. The baby would be a year old in a week, and Evan rarely had anything to do with him. His dead wife’s face flashed in his mind, forcing Evan to squeeze his eyes closed. Her gut-wrenching screams were replaced by a single lusty cry from his son, but all else was silent. Amelia had died, and it was because of him. He had killed his own wife.
“No. Please inform Catherine that I have commitments. I will drop by to see them later in the day or tomorrow.” Evan glared at Charles. “Do you have something more?” Fatigue made it difficult to hold his temper.
“As you wish, my lord.” Charles’s mouth pinched tightly as he nodded and left to relay his employer’s message.
“Charles, have my driver see me when my guests have departed.”
“Yes, my lord.” The valet inclined his head.
He watched his valet leave as he sat back on his bed, throwing his head against the headboard in exasperation. Evan had been a perfect ass. He knew it. He stared out of his bedroom window and suddenly felt trapped. No one cared what he wanted. He needed more sleep, but that was his own fault. Evan knew the women would still be waiting regardless of anything Charles told them. His sister was stubborn when she felt justice was on her side. And the other woman? He had a niggling feeling that she would not leave either.
What was wrong with him? He had two women waiting on his presence. Evan was no coward, but he dreaded the conversation he would have with his sister. Catherine had a purpose for being there, and he needed to see her first.
Charles had only been gone a few minutes. Grabbing his green velvet dressing gown, he secured it and walked to the door, opening it slightly. His housekeeper, Mrs. Hutchins, buzzed past with an armload of towels. “Mrs. Hutchins,” he caught her attention.
“Yes, m’lord?” The elderly housekeeper stopped in the hall and turned to curtsy, almost losing all the folded towels.
He did his best to help her pick up the fallen towels without exposing himself. “I know your arms are full, but when you have a minute, could you let my sister know I will see her in the nursery in fifteen minutes, after all? And please alert Bernard that I will be down shortly afterward to see the lady waiting in my study. Make sure scones and fresh tea are served.”
“Yes, m’lord.” The elderly woman hastily bobbed a curtsy and scurried down the hall.
Evan eased himself into the now cold bathwater, rushing his toilette. He shivered, knowing Charles had probably ordered it warm, realizing it would be cold before he used it. Penance for his mischief last evening. Evan should be angry, but it would be a waste of his time and energy. Charles would not be changing, and he would not be firing him. Evan enjoyed fantasizing about it, but in truth, the man was indispensable and knew it.
A short time later, Evan stood quietly outside the door to the nursery and watched his sister coo over his young son by the window. The nursery looked much the same as it did when they