“No,” she whispered. “I am not afraid of you, Mr Lockhart.” He did make her nervous but not for the reason he might think.
You’re afraid to like him.
A relieved sigh left his lips and his gaze softened. “Then you give me hope, Miss Darling. Hope that I have never dared dream of before.”
The fact she wasn’t afraid did not mean he wasn’t dangerous. Mr Lockhart knew what to say to elicit the desired response. A man with his charm might easily convince a woman she was in love.
Live with me. Sleep with me. Pretend to be my wife.
The words echoed in her mind like a siren’s song luring her with the prospect of excitement and pleasure. Every reader of mythology knew that to follow such a bewitching call brought nothing but disaster.
“None of what you have said explains the reason you’re here, sir. Why do you want someone to pretend to be your wife? And what makes you think I would be remotely interested in the role?”
Mr Lockhart lounged back in the chair, his rakish smile returning. “Do you not crave adventure? We would reside in a townhouse in Mayfair, attend balls, soirees, the theatre.”
“The lavish pursuits of the aristocracy do not interest me.”
“I will pay handsomely for your assistance. A thousand pounds for one week out of your busy schedule.”
A thousand pounds!
She almost slid off the sofa.
The gentleman had more money than sense.
A vision of her slapping the banknotes into Mr Thorncroft’s outstretched palm flashed into her mind. She would not bandy words when she told him never to darken her door again.
“You have not answered my question, sir.” Claudia sensed his reluctance to offer a more detailed explanation. His answer might make the notion of earning a thousand pounds less tempting. “Why do you need a wife?”
“Who else can a man trust if not his own wife?”
“Stop being evasive. And you’re not asking me to be your wife. You’re asking me to take part in a deception.”
He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “As always, Miss Darling, your directness leaves me no option but to answer, though I fear I do so at the detriment of my persuasive argument.”
“Then as a man who believes he has been duped, sir, I am sure you understand the need for honesty.”
“Indeed.” He inclined his head respectfully, though the rakish lock fell over his brow, distracting her momentarily. “I am afraid I suffer from a gentleman’s curse, Miss Darling.”
“A gentleman’s curse?” Was there such a thing?
“I suspect the traitor—the man responsible for my situation—is a member of my own family. Money, land and enriching one’s bloodline are but a few reasons why someone might want to see me hang from the gallows. Envy, greed and pride flourish amongst the ranks of the landed gentry.”
Such vices were apparent in those who wished to advance their position—Mr Thorncroft being a prime example.
“Allow me to offer my condolences,” she said. Family were supposed to be the ones a person turned to in times of need. “It saddens me to think you speak the truth.”
There was a sudden change in his bearing. He straightened, gritted his teeth and said, “I cannot forgive them, any of them.” Bitterness dripped from every word. “I cannot forgive the one who stabbed me in the back, nor those who stood by idly, those who failed to come to my aid.”
No, that much was evident.
“But why do you want your family to think you’re married?” As soon as she’d spoken, a plausible reason entered her head. “Ah, I see. A gentleman’s curse passes to his male offspring. What is yours would one day belong to your son. Should the motive be money, getting rid of you would not serve the villain’s evil end.”
Mr Lockhart arched a brow but did not confirm or deny her theory. “I mean to lure the devil out. But to do so, I must lay a trap.”
“And you intend to use me as bait?”
Regardless of whether the money would bring an end to her troubles or not, Claudia could not accept such a ridiculous proposition. Even if—in a moment of fancy—she might like a change of scenery, might like to sit in a plush box at the theatre and watch a play, she could not leave Emily.