The Lyon's Den in Winter: The Lyon's Den by Whitney Blake & The Lyon's Den

Author:Whitney Blake & The Lyon's Den [Blake, Whitney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Duncan was not prepared for Black to be so harried upon his arrival. He knew their situation was strange. But given Black’s prior association with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, he would not expect him to have second thoughts.

Likewise, he had not expected a hurried note to be delivered to Watson’s asking if he could please come to Mr. Black’s office instead of the Blacks’ home.

The change in plans made him nervous in a manner he did not appreciate.

His heart needed to commit to a desire. Either he wished to be free of this woman and their looming marriage, or he did not. The enormous feeling of dread that took hold when he wondered if perhaps Viola had spoken to her father, and demanded she be released from the entire affair, confirmed that he did not wish to be free of her at all.

It was bloody inconvenient.

He hardly had time to examine it now, though. The young clerk who had shown him inside left the room almost immediately. Had he been younger in age, Duncan might have said he actually skittered.

It didn’t bode well. When the door shut, Duncan stared at Black. His short, wavy gray hair stood at all angles and his eyes were red.

Neither was a good omen.

“Ought I to have brought something calming?”

“Sit down.”

Civility was not to be the order of the day, then. Duncan sat in the chair opposite Black’s orderly desk. The man himself looked out the window facing the busy street.

“Might I help in some other fashion?” said Duncan.

“I believe you’re going to have to help, although I would rather you didn’t.”

“How flattering.”

“I knew something was amiss,” said Mr. Black, nearly to himself.

“Mr. Black, I’m going to need something more to go on than cryptic or insulting asides.” He was almost in profile to Duncan, and his eyes wouldn’t stop moving while he stared through the glass. After a sigh, he let thick, opaque green curtains fall. The room went much darker.

Trying to be patient with his erratic behavior, for he did appear most distressed, Duncan blinked.

“And that is what I am grappling with. But we haven’t much time to blether about it.”

“You might be surprised at what I’m accustomed to hearing. Nothing you can say will shock me.” Over the course of his career, treating patients had led him to believe there was very little human beings could or would not get up to. Listening to fellow physicians led him to a similar conclusion, and many of them had far grislier tales to tell than their patients.

The majority of patients, for example, had not ever participated in or turned a blind eye to a nighttime, graveyard resurrection. He had done the latter. Neither had they dissected someone or knew the sound of a bone when it was set. He had done both.

Whatever Black had to say, Duncan had most likely heard or helped facilitate something worse.

“I need you to retrieve Viola.”

Duncan’s careful look of benign patience faltered. He tried not to let it be too eclipsed by shock.

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