Chapter Text
Mayfair, London, England - Summer, 1860
“Honestly with the way you’re carrying on, you’d think someone’s killed your dog,” Sadie Lamb sighed for about the fifth time in as many minutes, regarding the man sprawled on her settee with something like pity and a lot like exasperation. She carefully re-dipped her pen and did her best not to roll her eyes at his pouting face. “And you don’t even have a dog.”
The mongrel that was in the room, an old yappy thing she’d gotten from a passed aunt, lifted its head from where it was before the fire, its nubby tail wagging at her voice. She smiled at it fondly before returning to her letter. “Seriously, though, Lys. Are you really going to live the rest of your days on my settee or are you going to do something about all this rubbish? I rather thought you had more fight in you than this.”
“I do but I am not going to lie. This isn’t how I thought that I’d be spending the twins' birthday.” He sighed, running his hands over his face. His brain was fried from having a conversation with Mr. Gold. The man over the case with the state for his niece and nephew. Gold was a piece of work and was gleefully making this difficult. Thankfully Bryon was from a founding family and he couldn’t have objected to taking the children in. Or the letcher would have given them to another family. Someone that wouldn’t have let him see them.
“I need to get this taken care of soon. But who can I trust? These are my treasures.” He moaned unhappily, finally sitting up. He’d been given the chance to clean up his reputation. How better than marrying someone with a good rapport with the community. But who would do it? The otherside was that it was utter shit that he even had to do this. He should be able to marry someone he loved but not for the sake of needing them to keep the children. Though he would do just that.
Sadie sighed and gave up on her letter to cross over to him. Being a cousin to a lord, her clothes were extravagant and boldly patterned, given she herself liked color. Her dark curls were perfectly coiffed and when she sat down next to him, she hardly even ruffled a single flower sewn into her skirts. The dog eagerly hopped up beside her to get into her lap. She petted it happily enough, though her lovely face was serious.
“Let’s see. The perfect man for you…” she hummed, tapping her chin with a dainty finger. “Well, he’s got to be sensible to put up with your moods. And beloved by all of Mayfair to cover your misdeeds without staining his own boots with your mud.”
She giggled when he made a face, but it was true enough, no matter her flourish and they both knew it. “He needs his own house, to be good with children, and with a good fortune to back your solicitor’s fees. Not that easy of a catch this side of the ton, Lys, and not this late in the Season. I daresay almost all the most eligible bachelors have been snatched up by the eligible debutantes by now.”
“The only important part of what you just listed is good with children. They are what matters.” Lysander responded, letting her tease him. He at one time had fancied her in their youth. But that had long sailed as he realized that he favored men. She deserved nothing but the best though. She was kind, intelligent, charitable, and funny. Everything anyone would want in a wife.
“I wish you were right about that, but you’re forgetting something,” she said, reaching out to tuck his worried bangs off his forehead. When he’d shown up last night, his hair had been well oiled. Now it was fussed and finger combed, proof of his nerves. Sadie offered him a motherly smile.
“You need a gentleman who is willing to give up the idea of a blood heir,” she said softly, knowing that was actually a lot to ask. In a culture where blood was thicker than water, giving up a blood heir for an adopted one was too much to comprehend to some gentlemen, especially to those with family lines that went back to the Crusades. “You need someone who is willing to adopt the little ones as his own and give them full legal protection.”
“I know but by that honeyed expression in your eyes I can tell that you’ve got someone in mind.” Lysander wrinkled his nose but had a small smirk on the corner of his lips. “I assume there might be some payment for that?”
She elbowed him. “Don't be crass,” she huffed. “No payment. I daresay I won’t have to bribe him to say yes, not when he knows the stakes. And, luckily for you, he happens to be here this Season,” she added, obviously pleased with her cleverness. “If you think you can straighten yourself out, I’ll take you to him and we can get this settled up.”
“I will do whatever it takes to get my niece and nephew back.” Lysander responded, leaning his head on the woman’s shoulder. He was telling the truth. There wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do for those two. “So please set it up and don’t give him the perception it’s a yes without us both agreeing to it. I don’t want the mishap of what happened with that asshat to happen again.”
She patted his hair. “You just focus on being the good man I know you can be,” she said. “Leave the rest to me.”