Page 3 of Dared By a Lyon
Tears were now streaming down the footman’s cheeks.
“There were good Samaritans who rushed to our aid. A group of us repeatedly dove down until we located the carriage and finally managed to pry open the door. We pulled everyone out and brought them ashore…but it was too late. We helped the physician as best we could, but we could not revive them. The local authorities have taken them…”
“Everyone?” Gabriel said, his voice barely above a whisper as the enormity of the tragedy hit him like a blow to his chest. “My sister and brother-in-law? My fiancée, Juliet?”
“Yes, my lord. Everyone but your niece. Lady Caro is being cared for by Dr. Melvin Satterwhite and his wife. The deceased have all been removed to a local church. The reverend awaits your instructions.”
Time stopped—everything stopped for Gabriel, and he fell to his knees as a razor-sharp pain of anguish and heartbreak sliced through him.
“Nooo,” he bellowed. “It’s all my fault…”
Chapter One
Mivart’s Hotel
Brook Street
Mayfair, London, England
February 14, 1822
Ashlyn March reclinedagainst the pillows of her plush hotel bed, her gaze drifting around the room in awe. She took in the multitude of boxes and packages scattered across every surface of her room. Scarcely ten days ago, she and her cousin, Miss Elizabeth Vickers, daughter of American shipping magnate William Alfred Vickers, had arrived in London, eager to immerse themselves in all the excitement the city had to offer. As they’d grown up as close as sisters could be, Elizabeth had insisted that Ashlyn go with her on this grand adventure.
Elizabeth’s parents would be joining them in a few weeks to begin the official whirlwind of the London Season.
The six-week transatlantic trip from New York City had been exhausting, and they were jubilant to be finally off the ship and onterra firmaonce more. They had spent the first three days settling in and sightseeing—visiting the Tower of London, the Royal Menagerie, Westminster Abbey, the Royal Museum,and taking several rides in Hyde Park, where they stopped at Gunter’s before leaving. Of course, they also sampled new cuisines—new to them, at least—and went shopping. Ashlyn had adored the Royal Museum, full of antiquities, and loved visiting a local book shop, while her cousin preferred browsing the various modistes and milliners and chatting about the latest French designs.
They spent the next three days at the modiste’s being fitted for various day gowns, pelisses, hats, gloves, kid boots, dancing slippers, and even undergarments. Elizabeth had insisted on four ball gowns (which were what she had ordered for herself) for Ashlyn. Although Ashlyn had appreciated the generosity of her relatives, she had been perfectly fine with only one ball gown. But Elizabeth had stubbornly insisted, and they’d argued back and forth until they finally agreed on two ball gowns for Ashlyn.
Then Elizabeth had insisted on having their portraits painted as a gift for their parents.
The footmen had just finished delivering the dresses and multitude of boxes to their hotel suite. “I’ve never seen so many boxes and packages for me in one room in my life,” Ashlyn mused, getting up from the bed to begin sorting through all the packages and folding her clothes. She’d given her maid the afternoon off.
“I’m getting married, Ashlyn!” Elizabeth squealed as she burst into Ashlyn’s room, dressed in a lovely blue silk gown, one of the new dresses that the talented Madame Trousseau had created. Elizabeth twirled in a circle in front of Ashlyn.
“Of course, you will…once you’ve danced with every titled gentleman in theton,” Ashlyn said, chuckling as she carefully folded and put away the new undergarments that Elizabeth had also insisted on.
“No…truly. Wait! I’ve something to show you. I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth said, rushing out of Ashlyn’s room.
Minutes later, Elizabeth returned, wearing a creamy ivory satin gown, tastefully decorated in pearls and sequins. “It’s my wedding dress. The modiste agreed to alter it for me when I stopped by yesterday.”
Ashlyn’s eyes widened. “That was the dress hanging on the back of the door in the fitting room we used.”
“Yes… But Madame Trousseau agreed to make the dear girl another one. I needed something quickly, and we both loved this dress. So, I agreed to pay twice her price,” Elizabeth said. “I simply won’t be married in a blue ball gown.”
“But Elizabeth, why the hurry? It’s a lovely gown, but you know your mother. Aunt Beatrice will insist on amuchmore elaborate wedding gown when you eventually marry, not to mention an extensive wedding trousseau. There will be plenty of time for that. But first, we need to get through the Season. I’m certain you will meet the right—”
“Oh, pish posh!” Elizabeth said, cutting Ashlyn off with a flick of her wrist. “You’re not listening to me, Ash. I have no interest in marrying an English nobleman. Not when I have Matteo,” she whispered in a dreamy voice.
“Matteo…the artist?” Ashlyn said in disbelief. Matteo was an effusive and outgoing young man from Italy who had been in London for a year and quickly made a name for himself as a talented artist who specialized in portraiture, especially ladies of theton.
In his mid-twenties, Matteo had flirted outrageously with Elizabeth the entire three days they’d posed for their portraits. And Elizabeth had flirted right back.
Elizabeth had told Ashlyn after their first sitting that she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.
Ashlyn had agreed that he was striking, with an exotically handsome face, but his features were so refined, they were almost too pretty for a man. Almond-shaped, dark eyes with a thick fringe of black lashes, a Romanesque nose, and full lips. His tanned, olive-skinned face was framed by thick, long blue-black hair that he kept tied back in a sleek queue. He was of average height, with a wiry physique and lean muscles that he obviously enjoyed showing off in a shirt that he wore almost completely unbuttoned. Clearly, it had had the desired effect on Elizabeth.
“Yes, Matteo!” Elizabeth gushed. She grabbed a pillow and clutched it against her chest, as if she had been holding the Italian artist in her arms. “Matteo is sooo romantic, Ash. He calls meBellissima.Isn’t that wonderful? Do you know what it means? It meansmy beautiful one. He’s asked me to marry him!”
