Do you love the Lyon’s Den books, published by Dragonblade? Hopefully, by now you’ve read THE LYON AND THE LAMB by Elizabeth Keysian. Now, meet the sequel (although it can be read as a standalone)- THE LYON RAMPANT. Following the adventures of Belinda Bellamy, Lady Araminta’s troubled and mischievous sister, THE LYON RAMPANT is available to pre-order for just $0.99 or £0.77. But only until Release Day, which is JULY 2nd 2025!

Here’s an insight into the story-

She’s pretending to be respectable.
Tricking her way into a gentlemen’s card game isn’t Belinda Bellamy’s cleverest idea. Especially not when it’s at the Lyon’s Den, and one of the gamblers is a theatre owner who knows an actress when he sees one. Unmasked, Belinda’s ploy to raise enough money for Mrs Dove-Lyon’s services backfires badly. Instead of hiring the best matchmaker in London, Belinda is blackmailed into becoming her employee, and her hope of escaping her tragic past through marriage is shattered.

He’s pretending not to be . . .
The man who’s ruined Belinda’s plan is the rich but ruthless Piers Darvill, a notorious rake whose secret suffering is concealed by a heart of steel. He’s on the hunt for the woman hiding his young son. He’ll use any means to find her, including a young street urchin called Tom and Roland Chetwynd, Belinda Bellamy’s hapless chaperone and confidant.

Seeing Darvill as her nemesis, Belinda is determined to rescue Tom and free Roland from his obligations. But she has totally misunderstood Piers Darvill and ends up exiled and disgraced. Now he’s the only one who can restore her to Society, but his help comes at a price: she must become his fake fiancée.

Will their false betrothal fool anyone? And what if it becomes more than an act? Belinda’s scapegrace past could resurface, and Darvill will lose his last chance of finding his missing son.

Tropes/Story Hooks:
Forced proximity
Enemies to lovers
Opposites attract
Fake engagement
Fish out of water
Second chances

Interested? You can pre-order the book HERE.

Want to know more? Why not have a look at the first chapter?

THE LYON RAMPANT by Elizabeth Keysian

Chapter One

Miss Belinda Bellamy had just laid out another winning hand when she was gripped by her arms and hauled roughly from her seat. She resisted the urge to emit a feminine squeak, since she was currently dressed as a man and had, until this moment, apparently succeeded in her deceit.

The other gamblers at the table, masked, like herself, uttered various cries of surprise and alarm, none louder than her sister’s brother-in-law Roland Chetwynd, guilty of smuggling her into the exclusive Lyon’s Den gaming club. Yet even as Belinda stood, staring at the huge pile of winnings that was about to be taken from her, she realized that one of the card players was not at all surprised.

She had barely a moment to appreciate, and loathe, the firm mouth now quirked up in a sneer and the strong jaw that hinted at a handsome face behind the mask before she was turned about and ejected from the smoke-filled cardroom. Her captors hustled her along a corridor, up a servants’ staircase, and into a ladies’ dressing room.

The men who held her captive released her at that point, and she realized with a frisson of fear that she was now all alone and vulnerable. What had happened to Roland? Was she about to be accused of cheating? Because she certainly hadn’t—she’d had a true run of what Roland called “beginner’s luck.” And she hadn’t been in cahoots with him either, so the only crime she’d committed was to dress as a man so she could access the card game.

The familiar feeling of panic clutched at her throat, and she swayed forward, having to support herself on the back of a chair. The door closed behind her and she heard the heart-sinking sound of a key turning in the lock.

I will not give in to this weakness! I’m not going to swoon or shudder—I set out to prove that I’m no longer a child, and this is the ideal moment to test myself.

She hadn’t seen the faces of the men who’d taken her captive—everyone here went around incognito. Was this because they all had something to hide? Not as much as she, though, who’d been pretending to be a man and had, for much of the evening, been under the illusion that she was doing a damn good job of it!

Oh, poor Roland! Surely, he would not be dealt with gently. Would his badly bruised, unconscious body be found in a dark alley, his coin purse missing and his charming face ruined? Although she had no interest in him in that way—he was family, after all—she hated to think that her selfish actions might ruin his future chances of happiness. No—her actions were not selfish. She was trying to be generous by ceasing to be a burden to her sister and the earl. As soon as she had a husband and home of her own, they could stop worrying about her—and stop treating her like a weakling who needed to be coddled and swaddled because she couldn’t stand on her own two feet.

After several deep breaths, Belinda felt able to examine her prison, but before she could wonder at the amount of feminine clothing hanging around the room, the click of the door had her swinging round and almost set off her attack of panic again.

The person who entered the room was somewhat extraordinary. It was a woman, dressed in a widow’s black garb, but with her face entirely hidden behind a dark veil.

Once again, Belinda pondered on how strange a place the Lyon’s Den was. Was everyone pretending to be something they weren’t? Or trying to hide something they were? If that were the case, she’d committed no crime by concealing her gender. Had she?

She straightened her back to regain some dignity but being clad in breeches and a waistcoat made the restoration of feminine respectability somewhat challenging.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I presume.” She’d been told about the owner of the notorious Lyon’s Den gambling club. Even though the woman’s face was hidden, there was a presence about her that indicated a steel will and an indomitable character. She was not a woman to be crossed.

But these were not the circumstances under which Belinda had hoped to meet Bessie Dove-Lyon. She’d hoped to meet her with a pocket full of guineas and buy the woman’s services as a matchmaker. It was an open secret in London, whispered about by the gossips of the ton, that Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon, given sufficient incentive, could find a husband for any woman, no matter how stained that woman’s character might be, nor how unattainable the chosen gentleman.

The lady lifted her chin and surveyed Belinda with eyes that glittered behind her veil.

“Do you wish to borrow a gown before we embark upon our negotiations? Or are you happy to continue masquerading as a man?”

“I apologize if I’ve transgressed, madam.”

The veil moved as a huff of air escaped Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Anger? Or was the woman laughing at her?

“You have most certainly transgressed. As I’m sure both you and Roland Chetwynd are aware, women are not permitted at the gentlemen’s tables—they have their own. But those games are not conducted incognito, and you would never have been allowed in. There’s a significant relationship between yourself and Chetwynd, I assume.”

Belinda’s face went hot. “Of course not! He’s my—” She stopped. It was probably unwise to let Mrs. Dove-Lyon know their relationship. If word were to get back to her sister and her sister’s husband, the Earl of Aylsham, there’d be hell to pay. “We’re just close friends and he was trying to help me out of a difficult situation.”

“Sit down, Miss Bellamy. Let us discuss your ‘difficult situation,’ which, as a result of tonight’s activities, is certain to become worse.”

Belinda gasped. How did Mrs. Dove-Lyon know her name? Had that odious man at the card table, the one with the smirk she’d wanted to hit, recognized her? But how, when she was positive that she didn’t know him?

She fumbled her way into the chair that had been supporting her, and once again squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she was now a grown woman and could manage her own affairs. Even this one, which was unraveling faster than a badly knitted stocking caught on a nail.

“How do you know my name? Was it that obnoxious man who gave me away? What’s happened to Roland?”

She hoped she sounded authoritative. Mrs. Dove-Lyon could be a serious adversary, but one should at least attempt to stand up to her—if it was possible to do so without making her angry.

The black-clad woman took a seat, calmly arranging the folds of her gown over her knees. The mantel clock ticked away at least a minute while Belinda sat anxiously awaiting her fate. She could see there was no hope of escaping this misdemeanor without consequences. Even now, Mrs. Dove-Lyon was reshaping her future. 

“Firstly, there were no ‘obnoxious’ gentlemen at the card table. With the possible exception of Mr. Chetwynd, they’re all most respectable, although the younger ones tend to raise the stakes too often when gambling, whilst the older ones have a cynical attitude to life which makes them appear more brutal than they truly are. You may trust me on this, Miss Bellamy. I’m renowned for my ability to judge a person’s nature.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon steepled her fingers, and Belinda had the unpleasant sensation of being taken to task by an irate schoolmistress.

 “Secondly, Roland Chetwynd’s sentence is banishment from the Lyon’s Den. It may make a small dent in the finances of my establishment, due to his propensity to lose against the House, but rules are rules. Who knows? Being banished may do him some good.”

Belinda wriggled in her seat. Oh dear! Roland would hate her for this but there again, he had agreed to it, and she hadn’t even attempted to blackmail him or make him feel guilty to bring him on-side.

He’d helped her because he was, contrary to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s opinion, a gentleman.

Belinda’s tormentor was not finished. “As to your remaining question, it wasn’t difficult to work out who you were, having seen who sponsored you for tonight and having determined your gender. I make it my business to always know who’s in Town, both male and female. My knowledge commands respect, which is extremely useful in a business like mine. Now, regarding yourself, I have to tell you that your winnings have been returned to your fellow players. I know you weren’t cheating during the game, or my staff would have informed me, but you were, nonetheless, employed in an unforgivable subterfuge. That, in my book, renders every hand you played invalid.”

Hot tears pricked at the corners of Belinda’s eyes, and she dragged off her mask to swipe them away. She needed that money! Ironically, she’d wanted it to pay the very woman now telling her it had been taken away. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s matchmaking services were hugely expensive because they were so successful. But now that she’d been caught out by the lady herself, the price would be even higher. Either that, or her request would be met with a blunt refusal.

Belinda struggled to hold back the tears. She’d have to devise another plan, preferably one not involving money, but the chances were, it would be even more dangerous and desperate than tonight’s escapade.

“I beg you, don’t despair, Miss Bellamy. I have a sympathetic ear for women in difficulties, and I don’t—usually—bear a grudge, especially if those who have wronged me are truly penitent. As you most certainly appear to be so, I’ll give you time to state your case. In the meantime, Roland Chetwynd is cooling his heels in a carriage, and as soon as we’re done here, you’ll be conveyed home—discreetly. Now, then—you must trust me, and tell me what this is all about.”

Belinda inhaled deeply. Her sister had trusted this woman, and through her auspices, had met her future husband, Lord Aylsham. Quite what the lady’s methods had been for bringing the pair together—especially when they’d detested one another from the start—had never been divulged. Why Minty had been so tight-lipped about it, Belinda didn’t know, considering she herself already knew all about that sort of thing.

“I no longer wish to be a burden to my family. I’m perfectly capable of managing a household, although both my sister and her husband doubt me. I need a chance to prove myself, which I can only do with a husband and a family of my own. I’ve been known in the past to be somewhat—sensitive. The term ‘melodramatic’ has also been applied to me.” Belinda’s heart was pounding, and her throat grew tight. Why, oh why did her body always let her down at the most important moments? She was forced to battle her weaknesses many times a day, and it was exhausting.

Unclasping her hands, she rested them on the arms of her chair and took another deep breath.

“The reason I came to your establishment dressed as a gentleman—for which I hope you will forgive me—was to win enough to purchase your services. It was the most legitimate, and least scandalous method I could think of to raise enough funds in a hurry.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon lifted her finger, and Belinda paused.

“Why such urgency? Could you not attempt to find a husband in the usual way, by attending balls and suchlike?”

“My sister is great with child. I know as soon as it’s born, it will receive more love than most children of the ton, simply because of who its parents are. The earl, for all he seems such a stuffed shirt, is great-hearted. Once the baby’s born, the chances that I’ll fall in love with it are extremely high, and I’ll put aside any ambitions of my own to help look after it. I know my flaws, and I must be gone from that house before affection and duty tie me to it forever, condemning me to a life of spinsterhood.”

“It sounds to me as if spinsterhood in the Aylsham’s household would not be an unpleasant experience, particularly if, like yourself, one has a love for children. I understand your family’s country house has been turned into a foundling hospital, and that the children from the old orphanage in Town have been moved there for the benefit of their health. Surely, there is a place for you in this arrangement?”

“As I said, I’m sure there’ll be a place for me, but it’s a place to which I’ll be shackled for the rest of my life. I know that I sound like the most selfish being on earth, but I really would love a family of my own.” 

Belinda paused and flushed. There was more to her story, but how much should she share with the veiled woman opposite? Would things go better if she were open and honest? Oh, but it was so hard to trust anyone anymore!

“All I can tell you is that I’ve been in love and had my love returned, and having once tasted it, I know I’m missing out on the sweetest thing life can offer.”

“How old are you, Miss Bellamy? You cannot have reached your majority yet, or I would have heard of it. You must be around nineteen or so now?”

The lady paused, so Belinda nodded.

“Then I surmise you were fresh out of the schoolroom when you had your first taste of love. The chances of you ever again feeling the same passion you did in your youth are slim, and indeed, passion does not inevitably lead to happiness. You must be well-matched in a marriage, and your husband’s equal in both temperament and intelligence. Pray, tell me—why don’t you ask for the countess’s assistance with your problem? I know her to be kind and understanding—and she cares for you a great deal. Why not ask her for the funds to employ me? Why not tell her exactly what you’ve told me? Many a problem is solved if aired and shared.”

Belinda hung her head. “Minty—I mean, Lady Aylsham, has done so much for me. She risked everything to care for me when my life was falling apart and it’s only due to her that I’m still alive.”

Belinda’s throat was tightening again, but with emotion this time, not panic. She swallowed. “As I said before, I wish to be a burden no longer. I’m convinced my sister will be much happier knowing that I’m settled with a family of my own. She may not consider me able to look after myself, but I’m sure she’ll understand that a husband would do the job admirably.”

She pressed her lips together. What was it about the owner of the Lyon’s Den that made one reveal all one’s feelings and secrets on the first encounter? Even though one had no idea what the lady was thinking.

Summoning up her courage, Belinda tilted her chin at her inquisitor. “I don’t see that it matters anyhow, as I don’t have the funds to employ you, nor am I likely to have any in the immediate future. I apologize for breaking the rules of the Lyon’s Den and wasting your time. I beg you not to be too hard on poor Roland—I mean, Mr. Chetwynd. He’s eager to please and very kind to me. In his defense, I must say that he tried very hard to dissuade me from this particular path.”

She stood up, now feeling very foolish wearing Roland’s second-best suit and boots. What had possessed her to dress up as man?

“You may not leave—I’m not finished with you yet.”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s imperious tone froze Belinda to the spot. She suddenly felt as if she were looking at both judge and executioner and the enormity of what she’d done struck her with the force of a runaway carriage. One word from this woman and Belinda’s reputation would be nonexistent. And Minty and Leo, and of course, Roland, would all be victims of her foolishness.

She said nothing—she couldn’t trust her voice not to tremble.

“I wonder, Miss Bellamy, what you have to recommend you. You’re currently in my debt and will be so even more when I’ve found the answer to your prayers. Not every woman I have helped has paid me in coin. Some have done me favors, some have made me rare or valuable gifts and others have worked off their debt to me in one way or another. I could, perchance, make use of you, if you have any skills that you think would be valuable in an establishment like this.”

Belinda tried not to gape at Mrs. Dove-Lyon. If she was not mistaken, the lady had just offered her a way out of her current predicament which needn’t involve paying out a large sum of money! The only question was, what did the owner of a notorious gambling den have in mind for a well-bred young woman with fashionable looks and no useful skills or experience at all?

With one possible exception . . .

All will be revealed on July 2nd. If you want to grab your copy at the discounted pre-order price, you can do so HERE.