A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“Borrowing money with no intention of repaying the debt is a serious affair, Miss Darling.” His hollow cheeks conveyed his disapproval. “I cannot imagine what your father was thinking.”

Neither could she.

Richard Darling was too proud to take a loan. He cared too much for his daughters to leave them in such a precarious predicament, especially when his passing meant their finances were significantly reduced. The entailed property in Berkshire had passed to a distant relative, so too had the modest yearly income. He had purchased Falaura Glen in its current state a year before her mother died, and they had remained there ever since.

“If only there were receipts to show what my father did with the money,” she said.

How odd that no one knew anything of his lavish expenditure and yet Mr Thorncroft had the papers to prove his claim.

Mr Thorncroft’s head fell slowly forward as he sharpened his gaze. “I might offer an explanation, but it is not for the ears of a gently bred lady, my dear.”

Insulted, for how dare he imply that her father was anything other than an honest and moral gentleman, she said, “I do not care for your sordid implications, sir.” Her hands trembled as every fibre in her body wanted to kick this scoundrel down the length of the drive. “And it is wrong to cast aspersions on the character of a man who is no longer here to defend his position.”

Rather than appear affronted by her sudden outburst, Mr Thorncroft managed a faint smile.

“Your loyalty to your kin does you credit, Miss Darling. Any man would be grateful to have such a faithful and honest wife at his side.”

“So I am told.”

Mr Lockhart had said a similar thing, too. Not that she wanted to appear shallow, but she would like to think she had other attributes besides a desire to speak her mind.

A mild look of panic passed briefly over Mr Thorncroft’s features. “You have had an offer from another gentleman in the parish?”

Perhaps she would give this toad a reason for concern. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” Remembering Mr Lockhart’s need for secrecy, she added, “Though, as I told the gentleman in question, I have no intention of marrying.”

A timely knock on the door brought Mrs Bitton with the tea tray. The fact she had not sent a footman said more about the housekeeper’s protective nature than their current staff shortage.

Silence descended as Mrs Bitton placed the tray on the stand beside Claudia’s chair and poured for the gentleman. Numerous times she cast a scowl at Mr Thorncroft whenever he diverted his attention. When she left the room, she wedged the door open.

“Who is he?” Mr Thorncroft said as soon as they were alone. He did not give her a chance to answer—not that she would have broken a confidence—before saying, “Your only hope of being rid of the debt is to marry me. I thought I had made that clear.”

“Tea?” Claudia gripped the saucer and offered Mr Thorncroft the beverage.

He took hold of it, but the rattle of the china cup showed his annoyance. After gulping the hot drink down until he’d drained every drop, he stood and returned the china to the tea tray.

“Just in case there should be any doubt as to my claim,” he said, delving into the inside pocket of his coat and removing a folded note, “the magistrate has assessed my case and agrees you must pay the debt forthwith.”

He thrust the note at her, and she took it in the hope he would return to his seat. It was difficult enough sitting opposite the man without him hovering over her like the crow of death ready to peck her eyes from their sockets.

When he failed to move, Claudia gestured to the chair opposite until he obliged.

She peeled back the crisp folds, observed the signature of the man acting for the Crown but who took bribes when his wife overindulged on her frequent trips to town.

“And Mr Hollingsworth based his decision solely on a piece of paper that bears my father’s signature?”

“It is a legally binding document.” Mr Thorncroft stared in the menacing way that made every hair on her body stand to attention. “The magistrate agrees and will assign the case to the assizes should you fail to repay the debt. It clearly says that should death occur I may recover the sum from the deceased’s estate.”

Claudia scanned the document written in Mr Thorncroft’s hand. There were no signs of tampering. The writing was fluid and even. At the bottom, her father’s signature acted as the damning mark.

Perhaps it was the need to get rid of this devil that brought Mr Lockhart’s proposal to the forefront of her mind. Perhaps it was the thrill of a challenge that caused excitement to flutter whenever she thought about the role he wanted her to play. One thing was certain. She would rather spend a week with Mr Lockhart than a lifetime with Mr Thorncroft.

A thousand pounds for one week out of your busy schedule.

The debt was fifteen hundred pounds.

Mr Lockhart seemed desperate enough to pay more.

But Claudia couldn’t leave her sister. How would Emily cope in her absence? Then another idea took root. Would Mr Lockhart consider taking Emily with them?