Lyon in Disguise: Lyon’s Den Connected World
A handsome rake meets his match in a red-headed enchantress who is his enemy!
They may be on different sides of the law, but Lord Navan Beaufort is not going to permit that to stop him from protecting Miss Audrey Moreau. Navan has never thought truly to love anyone, but when he laid eyes on the red-headed beauty, his world shifted. Unfortunately, the lady appears to prefer Lord Alexander Dutton to him, though Navan has rarely had the opportunity to speak to her privately. That is, until he saves her from a fire one miraculous night. From there forward, she is his hope. His future.
Miss Audrey Moreau depends exclusively on her Uncle Jacobi for a home and protection. The man rescued her from a bayman’s plantation in the West Indies when she was five; yet, she well knows the “Marquis of Honfleur’s” schemes. She thought once Jacobi was caught, all would be well, but even from his jail, the man means to rain down harm upon her.
Can two lost souls find happiness together, when everyone in whom they had previously placed their trust have left them alone in the world?
Tropes You’ll Love:
- Enemies to lovers
- Self-declared bachelor
- Friends to lovers
- Adversaries
- Damsel in distress
- Best friend’s sister
- Different worlds/experiences
- Soul mates
- Emotional scars
- Fish out of water
Read in Kindle Unlimited!
Enjoy the books in a new series within The Lyon’s Den Connected world by Regina Jeffers.
Book 1 – Lyon in the Way
Book 2 – Lyon’s Obsession
Book 3 – Lyon in Disguise
Book 4 – Lost in the Lyon’s Garden
Book 5 – Lyon on the Inside
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G1V963YZ
This is one of the pivotal scenes in the story. Though he is an Irish lord, Navan works for the Home Office in London. The government have been watching Amgen House for they believe Audrey’s “uncle” is flooding the streets with fake bank notes. This is the first time they actually meet.
Beaufort called her name as he rounded the corner of the house to find black smoke pouring from the open back door. “Miss Moreau!”
“Here!” she responded, but he still could not see her until he ducked beneath the plume of smoke to discover her in the kitchen, attempting to beat out a fire on the floor before the hearth with a straw broom which was also on fire.
“Give it to me!” he ordered. She held it tightly, but he managed to jerk it from her grasp. “Stand back!” He caught what was left of the cloth rug and wrapped it about what was left of the broom and tossed both out the door to land against the small brick wall where a vegetable garden should have been planted. “Water!” he ordered. “Throw it on the hearth!”
She appeared bewildered, but she responded by pouring the contents of first one pitcher and then another onto the hearth and floor, while he caught a second rug to beat out the fire in front of the hearth before he did the same with what remained of the first rug in the yard.
After several hectic minutes, they both stood huffing and puffing and searching for the least spark to reignite. “Are you well?” he asked cautiously from the still open doorway. She looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling, but she did not burst into tears, as would have most women. “I did not know what to do. I kept thinking about Lord Amgen.”
So as not to frighten her, he stepped slowly in her direction, but, from his experience, she was too calm, which meant she was about to fall to pieces. “You recall who I am, do you not, Miss Moreau?”
She nodded her affirmation. “Lord Beaufort.”
“May I ask how this happened?” He continued to speak softly to her, waiting for her to break into tears.
“My uncle has forbidden me from leaving the house, and I possess no money nor do I know where to seek assistance. Cook is supposed to bring me meals,” she said without looking up at him.
Navan wondered why she had told him the truth., though Though he already knew what she had shared, her honesty had shaken him to his core. Therefore, he said, “I realize you truly do not know me, but, if you will permit it, I would gladly offer my assistance.”
She looked up then. “I could not. My uncle would be livid if he discovered your being here even for a few minutes. I have already displeased him of late.”
Navan made himself release his breath slowly. “Tell me what you did which started the fire,” he instructed rather than comment on her disclosure. “I cannot leave you alone until I am confident this does not happen again.”
Her eyes became watery again. “Cook left a chicken broth and a stew,” she said as she studied the soaked hearth. “I attempted to remove the greasy part forming on each, but it gagged me to touch it. I was simply being foolish.”
Navan could not hide the smile turning up the corners of his lips. “So, you thought to start a fire in the hearth?”
“I put in the paper rolls and used the candle to set them on fire while I sliced the bread,” she explained.
“Did you clean out the ashes from the previous fire and reset the kindling?” he asked without a reprimand in his tone.
She looked up at him quickly. “I did not know…”
“All is well,” he said. “If you will permit me, first, I will find us both something to eat, which is what I was considering when I spotted the smoke. Then I will teach you how to use the hearth properly.”
“I could not ask it of you, my lord,” she said, but Navan heard hints of hope in her voice.
“You did not ask,” he corrected. “My blessed father would be upset if he thought I simply walked away from someone in need.”
“Your father still lives?” she asked. “I can barely remember the look of mine. My mother passed away when I was five.”
“I lost my whole family when I was not yet nine,” he admitted. Navan did not like to speak of what occurred on that particular night.
“Oh, my lord,” she said in sympathy while reaching a hand to him, which he gladly accepted. “How terrible.” She spoke in such sincere tones, he could not help but to know a sense of companionship. “Have you told Caroline of your loss? I am confident my cousin would also know sympathy. She lost her mother and brother when she was seven. Such is when my uncle came for me, so I might be a playmate and companion for Caroline.”
Navan held no sympathy for Lady Caroline, for she repaid the world by cheating others out of hard-earned money, but he said, “Then it is acceptable if I return in, say, twenty minutes or so? We will likely, quite literally, break bread together and sit and converse,” he suggested again.
“Are you assured, my lord,” ?” she asked once more. “I would not wish to inconvenience you.”
“I live nearby so it is no inconvenience at all, but, at this time of night, I cannot guarantee what is available.” Navan knew what was in the larder at the watch house, and he would gladly share what was there with her.
“What should I do in your absence?”
He was happy she had agreed with him. “A plate or two and cups, but do not start on the hearth until tomorrow. It is a filthy job and better done on a full stomach and the light of day.” Navan left her then and returned to the watch house where he packed up a basket with hard cheese and bread and boiled eggs and a bottle of wine, as well as a few lemon cakes. Foolishly, he checked his appearance in a long mirror and waited what he thought was an appropriate amount of time for someone who lived “nearby.” Finally, he returned to Amgen House, circling it from the opposite side, so no one would notice his actions.
Thankfully, in his absence, she had closed and locked the back door, but she quickly responded to his knock. He glanced at the table. She had added a small cloth to the crude cut wooden table and placed a fresh candle in the center. Moreover, she had washed away the smudges of soot from her cheeks and had braided her long hair.
“Welcome, my lord,” she said with a smile, as she gestured to the table.
“You have been busy, Miss Moreau. I approve,” he said.
“I pray it is not too simple,” she said.
“Unlike the others you may have encountered from society, Miss Moreau, I am an Irish lord elected to serve in England’s Parliament. When I am home, I am often found in a less than plush setting.” He crossed to a long table and began to set out what he brought over from the watch house. “I am not saying,” he continued, “that I am a heathen, but many in Ireland live a much simpler life than do their English counterparts, though Dublin has a society that is comparable to London’s.”
“I have always wished to see Ireland,” she said as she came to stand beside him. She was a bit taller than he had expected: She came to his shoulder. “Uncle avoided the Irish Sea, however.”
“Lord Honfleur owns a ship?” he asked, not considering his question, but rather to keep their conversation going.
She stiffened. “My uncle once owned several trading ships,” she explained. “He came for me when I was in the West Indies.”
Navan purposely did not comment on her disclosure. Instead, he said, “The Irish Sea can sometimes be unsafe. There are both pirates and French privateers operating in the area, but one can also travel to Ireland from Wales and from Scotland, which is less dangerous.
“I never knew,” she confessed.
“Yes, many travel to Dublin and then inland,” he explained, “though I, generally, travel to Cork City or beyond when returning to my homeland. It depends on whether I mean to be at Beaufort Court, which is some thirty miles to the northeast of Cork City or my maternal grandparents’ home above Neidín.”
“How does such make you feel?” she asked. “I mean, always spending part of each year in a country with many, I assume, who despise you.”
“It is not easy,” he admitted, surprised of her intuitiveness, for few asked him of how he felt about the responsibility placed on his shoulders, “but if I do not stand against the anti-Irish sentiment, who will? I am eager to see what occurs with the next session of Parliament in the new year, with Robert Jenkinson, the Second Earl of Liverpool, as the Prime Minister. With the assassination of Spencer Perceval and Liverpool’s ascension, we must wait to see if there is a change of sentiment or not.”
“Would you explain what you see as the problems?” she asked as she set out the plates. “I would truly be interested in hearing of the conflict from your point of view.”
He paused to study the honesty upon her expression. “If you wish, but you must tell me if I go on and on. Many in English society do not wish to hear of the Irish complaints.”
“Then you are fortunate, my lord, that I am not English nor part of society,” she retorted. “Let us fill the plates with good food and then enjoy a conversation rarely shared between a man and a woman in an English household—a conversation about life, not one regarding the latest on dits upon which the beau monde constantly thrives.”
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