Page 1 of Dared By a Lyon
Prologue
Dawson House
London, England
February 16, 1819
Thunder roared, andlightning illuminated the sky, revealing the bare silhouettes of winter trees and the black iron fencing standing against the wind and rain battering the leaded windowpanes of his comfortable study. The flame on his desk flickered and wobbled, as if responding to the booming voice of thunder. Gabriel Dawson, the seventh Earl of Ravensthorpe, was trying to concentrate on writing a speech that he intended to give in the House of Lords the next day, despite the thunderous storm that raged outside the window, making it very difficult to concentrate.
That was why he’d declined his sister’s plea to accompany them to the family estate with their mother. His fiancée, Juliet, was also traveling with his sister, Olivia, and Olivia’s husband, Viscount Maxuel Whitworth, and their four-year-old daughter, Caroline. As tempting as it had been to spend time with Juliet, he could not abandon his cause. A cause that he’d taken up and had been inspired by, thanks to his mother.
Gabriel’s mother had become vocal about the abhorrent conditions of madhouses in England, feeling they were being used as easy and convenient ways to get rid ofinconvenientwives, daughters, or sisters by committing them to these institutions that gave little care or oversight to the people they were claiming to help.
He agreed with his mother that recordkeeping at these facilities was abysmal, and he would argue for the need to establish regulations and a humane standard of care, as well as a policy of accountability.
His father had originally planned to write and deliver a speech on the need to reform the madhouses, but his unexpected death from a sudden illness had left it up to Gabriel to take up the mantle. Gabriel was driven to see it through—as much for his father’s memory as for the compelling reasons to advocate for change. His mother, the Countess Elsa Ravensthorpe, had also decided to remain in London at her own townhouse so that she could attend his oration, and would travel with him to the family estate the following day.
Leaving early would mean missing his chance to advocate for change. If he’d departed that morning, he would not have been able to give his speech at a special assembly in the House of Lords that was taking place the next day. Gabriel understood that his views might not be the most popular among men of his standing, but he truly believed that change needed passionate supporters. He was committed to making sure his voice and vote would be heard. It might not achieve everything his mother had hoped for, but it was a heartfelt start.
As he wrote, the rain pelted harder, the howling wind rattled the windowpanes, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. He tried not to let the noise of the storm break his focus, given that time was of the essence as he worked on his speech.
He rose from his chair and began to pace in the center of the study, rehearsing his indictment of the so-called hospitals and their abuses of women. As he read from his notes, an enormous tree branch suddenly smashed through the study window, sending a spray of splintering glass across the room as it slammed onto the chair and desk he had just vacated.
Shaken that he’d narrowly missed being severely injured or worse, Gabriel strode out to the hall for assistance. “Higgins—”
But Higgins, ever the attentive butler, no matter that he was getting on in years, had already come running and nearly collided with Gabriel in the doorway. “My lord, I heard what sounded almost like an explosion in here. Are you all right?” he said, panting.
“Catch your breath, Higgins. I’m all right,” Gabriel said, reassuring the older man with a pat on his shoulder. “A branch smashed through the window. I wasn’t sitting at my desk at the time, but there’s glass everywhere,” he warned, stepping back to show Higgins.
“I’ll fetch Harold and Theo to help clean this up,” Higgins said. “My lord are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked, his eyes scanning Gabriel.
“I’m fine,” Gabriel said again.
The butler cleared his throat. “I’ll ask Mrs. Flinters to prepare bandages and a needle and thread,” Higgins said.
“Higgins, I’m fine,” Gabriel repeated, beginning to feel piqued from all that had happened.
“My lord, may I draw attention to your arm? It appears to be bleeding rather profusely,” Higgins added in a wry voice, pointedly staring at the spreading bloodstain on Gabriel’s right sleeve.
Gabriel glanced down at his arms folded akimbo and nodded, his irritation dissipating. His right arm was covered in his blood. “I suppose in all the ruckus, I didn’t notice the shards of glasshit me.” He indicated the area around the window that was becoming soaked from the rain.
“I’ll have the footmen nail some wooden planks to cover the window until we can replace the glass,” Higgins said.
“Yes. I’d like to have the glazier replace the glass exactly as my grandfather commissioned it. Please ask them to look around and try to salvage one of the larger pieces of the glass, if it shows the pattern Grandfather designed. It may not be possible, but it will be easier to match it if they can find one.”
He blew out a breath. “I suppose I’ll need to find another place to work on this speech,” he said, rolling up the sheets he was holding.
“Perhaps not, my lord. The men will have this done quickly, and if I may say so, Mrs. Flinters does a marvelous job at mending wounds,” Higgins said, sounding slightly enthralled with the cheery, efficient red-haired woman who had accepted the position three months ago. “She can take care of that arm quickly and efficiently. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, my lord, and you could probably use a brief respite. I’m certain Mrs. Flinters will have a plate of biscuits and a bracing cup of tea at the ready.”
Gabriel suppressed a smile over Higgins’s enthusiasm about Mrs. Flinters’s abilities. Higgins had been a widower for most of Gabriel’s life. If the butler was taken with the new housekeeper, who was also widowed, who was he to stand in the way? “You’re right, Higgins. Icoulduse a short respite, given the circumstances.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll see to everything,” the tall, gray-haired man said.
An hour later, Gabriel was back at his desk. The footmen and Higgins had done an excellent job of cleaning everything up and boarding up the window; they had even found a larger piece of the broken glass to show the glazier. Mrs. Flinters had carefullyremoved the jagged bits of glass that had embedded in his skin, tended to and bandaged each cut, and sewn up the deeper gash in his upper arm. Higgins had not exaggerated—the kindly woman had handled everything swiftly and neatly as she fussed and clucked about him like a mother hen. After drinking two cups of her willow tea and enjoying three of her freshly baked cinnamon biscuits, he’d felt restored.
Although it was still raining, the worst of the storm had abated. Therefore, no more tree limbs crashing through windows or other accidents. He was determined to finish his speech, even if it took all night. Unfurling the papers across his desk, he was relieved he’d been holding his speech when the branch had smashed through the window, and it hadn’t been destroyed by the crash, nor the rain that had surged in after.
“My lord, this arrived for you,” Higgins said, entering the study carrying a silver salver with a sealed letter. “Forgive me, in all the commotion, I forgot to give it to you.”
