A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

The options bounded back and forth in her head until Mr Thorncroft cast an

arrogant grin and said, “It is time you accepted your fate, Miss Darling. Agree to be my wife, and I shall wipe the debt.”

Nothing in the world would make her believe she was destined to marry this conceited fool. Had the man a conscience, one might think he had been awake half the night consumed with guilt for his misdeeds. But the dark shadows beneath his eyes were a permanent feature.

“I shall make a pact with you, Mr Thorncroft,” she said, desperate to get rid of him for she could not bear the sight of his vanity a moment longer. “Permit me one week. One week to pay the debt. Should I fail in the task, I will agree to be your wife. Together we will visit Mr Hollingsworth where he will witness our agreement. However, I require my own signed copy of the document.”

She would be damned before she’d trust either of the fools. Something strange was afoot. She just couldn’t prove it.

Mr Thorncroft sat in silence.

“Well? Are you in agreement, sir?”

“Where do you propose to find fifteen hundred pounds in a week,” he eventually said, “when you have failed to pay the debt these last twelve months?”

“That is my affair.”

The final word sent a tingle down the length of her spine. Mr Lockhart had mentioned sharing his bed. Surely that was only for appearance’s sake. Surely he did not expect to take liberties for his thousand pounds.

Mr Thorncroft narrowed his gaze in suspicion. “And if I refuse?”

It would mean selling the house, moving to a small cottage, but such things took time. She could sell furniture, paintings, perhaps raise enough to satisfy the gentleman.

“I could never marry a man who lacked an ounce of Christian charity.”

Mr Thorncroft’s expression remained sombre. He pursed his thin lips. “Very well. I shall give you one week to pay the debt in full. I shall return home and draw up a contract, and we will visit the magistrate today.”

“Agreed.” Claudia came to her feet. There was nothing more to say, and she needed a nip of sherry to quell her nerves.

As a gentleman, Mr Thorncroft had no option but to stand, too. He bowed, appeared eager to be on his way. One could not pledge their soul to the devil without making their mark, and Mr Thorncroft would want to see her name scrawled in blood.

“I shall return in due course to convey you to Meadowbrook.”

Claudia offered a weak smile. “Then you will not object if my sister accompanies us.” Emily would act as her chaperone should Mr Thorncroft have dishonest intentions.

That meant she would have to reveal the full extent of their troubles. She would have to tell Emily the truth if Mr Lockhart agreed she could accompany them to London.

“No,” he huffed. “I have no objection.”

“My sister must be part of the arrangement, as I intend to care for her always. Any man who wishes to be my husband must accept that Emily will live with us.”

A muscle in the man’s cheek twitched. He gave a half smile though his eyes remained as cold as the morning frost coating the blades of grass. “You want that written into our agreement?”

“I do.”

He muttered beneath his breath, inclined his head and promised to return. Without another word, he swung around and marched from the room. She heard him snipe at Dickinson for some petty misdemeanour before the front door opened and closed.

Claudia dropped into the chair, her knees about to buckle under the strain of her predicament. So much for a nip of sherry. She contemplated downing the contents of the decanter.

The day would prove long and taxing. A frank talk with Emily was long overdue, and the thought of a twenty-minute carriage ride to Meadowbrook filled her with dread. Once she’d given her oath—and ensured she had a witness to the fact that payment of the debt brought an end to the matter—she would descend on Mr Lockhart, ready to make a bargain.

“I heard Mr Thorncroft leave.” Emily’s voice dragged Claudia from her reverie.

“He has an important errand to run,” Claudia replied, looking up to find her sister hugging the doorframe. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to snoop.” Emily straightened and entered the room.

For weeks, ever since Mr Lockhart and Monsieur Dariell arrived at Falaura Glen, Emily had been practising walking unaided. She had memorised the number of steps required to reach the sofa.