Page 1 of The Lyon’s Lass

Chapter One

London Harbor, April 1812

The clean scent of sea air shifted to the stagnant stench of the London port as Iain Douglas guided the two-masted brig closer to land. Before the anchors had even hit bottom, cargo was moving up from the holds of Iain’s ship, The Rue.

His crew was eager to get unloaded. With coin in their pockets, they would scatter to the darker parts of the city to find their entertainments until they found their way back to the sea once more. Some would gather again to sail on The Rue, some Iain would never see again.

“See the men paid,” Iain instructed his first mate and friend, Hodge.

“Aye, Capt’n. I’ve already made the notes in your ledger.”

Iain nodded. Normally it would be the captain who saw to the books, but Iain could not see straight when it came to letters or numbers on a page. Fortunately, maps were already covered in twisted lines that somehow made perfect sense to him. A skill that had come in handy when he’d sailed the king’s ships during the war.

Now he owned The Rue straight out, and not much more. But it was fine with him. He had no need for much more than food in his belly and the sea air in his face.

After unloading, The Rue would be moved out and anchored for the few weeks it would take Iain to plan his next trip. In preparation for not being aboard, Iain gathered the few things he would need. He’d find rooms in town and meet with the brokers, factors, and merchants he supplied goods to. And he’d spend a night or two at a gaming table.

He wasn’t over-thirsty for the game, but he set aside some coin to indulge in a bit of fun at whatever port was home for that night.

Iain was finishing his packing when Hodge entered his quarters with a tap to the doorframe.

“Capt’n there’s a man here to see you. He has some documents and says he has business with you.”

“Would you stay?” Iain requested of his friend, who was already leading the man inside. Iain could read but barely, his writing was far worse.

“Mr. Reynolds,” the man introduced himself. He looked mightily out of place with his slim build and fancy clothing. Still, he didn’t sneer as he took a seat at Iain’s rough table.

The man got straight to business laying out a number of finely printed documents.

“I’m sorry to tell you, your cousin, the Earl of Kesson has passed.”

Iain was a bit startled by the news. He hadn’t heard from Thomas in many years. Not since they were lads. Tommy was only two years older than Iain’s twenty-seven years.

“It leaves the title open,” the man continued.

If he was shocked by the news of Thomas’s passing, Iain was even more surprised by this news.

“His younger brothers. David and Richard—”

“Also passed. Many years ago.”

“Certainly, by his age he has children.”

The solicitor shook his head slowly. And Iain knew more bad news was coming.

“The countess succumbed during childbirth, I’m afraid.”

Hodge whispered a “Good God,” into the silence that fell. At first, Iain thought it was in reverence to the loss of people he’d never met, but a few heartbeats later Iain realized what Hodge had already put together.

“Why have you come to tell me this news?” Iain asked, though he worried he already knew.

“You are the new Earl of Kesson.”

“The hell I am.” Iain held his arms out to indicate the place where they sat. “I’m the Captain of The Rue. I know nothing of being a lord.”

“Be that as it may, you are next in line.”

“Give it to the person after me. Say you couldn’t find me.”