A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Her gaze turned meditative.

From the deep frown marring her brow, her troubles were far greater than he first suspected. Or was it the thought of spending a week in his company that caused her distress?

“If you want directness, sir, you shall have it,” she eventually said, her tone determined. “Yes, I need the money, but a thousand pounds is not enough to encourage me to sleep in your bed.”

He jerked his head back. “I am not paying you to make love to me. And a thousand pounds is ample considering you’ll have a new wardrobe at your disposal.”

She blinked rapidly. “You want me to lie next to you each night when you have already admitted to sleeping naked. And there’s every chance someone might recognise me in the future. For such a blight to my reputation, I require two thousand pounds.”

Lockhart rubbed his chin as he studied her. One had to admire anyone willing to fight for their position. “Fifteen hundred. And that is my final offer.”

“Seventeen.”

“Done.”

Her eyes grew wide with shock, and she struggled to keep the satisfied smile at bay. “And you must wear a nightshirt to bed.”

“A nightshirt?” he scoffed. Did the lady not know that he could seduce her with one toe? One toe drawn slowly up the lower leg sent tingles of pleasure directly to the sensitive spot between a lady’s thighs. “Agreed.”

“And my sister must accompany us.”

“That is out of the question,” he replied in a tone that said the request was not up for negotiation. “She will remain here. Dariell will ensure her safety.”

“Monsieur Dariell cannot take residency in the house.” Panic infused each word.

“For appearance’s sake, you will hire him as her dance tutor. He will remain in this cottage and visit her daily.”

“No, that will not do.” Miss Darling shook her head five times or more. “Should someone learn of my absence and see them together, she will be the subject of gossip.”

Better that than for Lockhart’s enemies to use her as a pawn. While he hated focusing on the lady’s weakness, being blind only made her an easy target.

Lockhart inhaled deeply. “Let me remind you of the reason behind my proposal, Miss Darling.” Talking of that fateful night brought the memories flooding back—the blood, the cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him. “An innocent man was murdered. Murdered,” he repeated, in case she had not understood the severity of his situation. “The culprit will look for ways to hurt me, of that I am convinced. I can protect you, but I cannot protect your sister, too.”

Fear filled her eyes. “You think this person might try to hurt me?”

“I don’t know what he will do, but—” Guilt made it impossible to finish the sentence. “Perhaps I am asking too much. Perhaps you should forget my proposal, forget you ever met me.”

A brief look of panic marred her dainty features. The lady turned away from him. She dropped into her seat at the table, captured the wine glass and gulped the contents.

Long seconds passed.

“I led you to believe I would help you,” she said in a melancholic tone, though she did not tear her gaze away from the single drop of claret swimming in the bottom of the glass. “And I agreed to accept an extortionate sum in payment.”

“I’m strong enough to deal with rejection, Miss Darling.” And yet the weight of disappointment in his chest was like nothing he had felt before. “I shall have to find another way to achieve my goal.”

“Life can be cruel and unfair,” she said, though still would not look at him.

He moved to kneel beside her, took hold of her chin between his fingers and drew her around to face him. “Life can be beautiful, too, of that I am assured.”

Her sombre gaze searched his face. “Perhaps there is a compromise.”

“I am all ears,” he said, hope springing to life in his heart once again.

Miss Darling pursed her lips while deep in thought.

“Dariell is trustworthy,” Lockhart added. “I would not suggest he remain here were he not above reproach.”

“I know. The man’s character is as eas