A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“I am the only person you should trust, Miss Darling.”

She contemplated the comment before saying, “Claudia, you must call me Claudia else there’s every chance you’ll inadvertently make a mistake.”

“As I said, we must learn to share a certain intimacy if we are to convince others ours is a love match. Most people call me Lockhart, but you may call me Hudson, if you so wish.”

“Hudson,” she repeated as if the word held special meaning. “Perhaps we should use this time to become better acquainted with our story.”

“Our story?”

“Where did we meet? When did we marry?” She glanced at her gloved hand. “Do I not have a ring? A token of your love and abiding affection?”

Lockhart had made a rough sketch of events in his mind. “Your father served as an officer in the 8th dragoons in Meerut. We met at a dance held by the regiment who invited a few British gentlemen living in the area. I attended as a guest of Lord Valentine.”

“And I suppose my name is not Darling.”

“You were Miss Adams—a relatively common name should anyone wish to pry. But you will avoid questions regarding your family’s background.”

“But I know nothing about India other than it’s hot,” she gabbled in a panic.

“Then when in bed this evening, I shall paint a vivid picture. One you’re unlikely to forget.”

A blush crept up her neck to colour her cheeks. “And you must tell me about your friends, although I feel as if I have known Monsieur Dariell for a lifetime.”

“He has that effect on people.”

Claudia gave a sad sigh. “I hope Emily will manage at home in my absence.”

Without asking permission, he reached over and took hold of her hand resting in her lap. She should get used to his sudden touch if they wished to make their relationship appear convincing. “Your sister is stronger than you think.”

She did not snatch her hand away. “I’m sure you’re right. Besides, a week will pass in no time.”

A week might not be long enough to trap the villain. Once settled into her new position, Lockhart hoped Miss Darling might be flexible if he needed her assistance a little longer. There was no point mentioning it now.

“I do have a ring,” he said to distract her from thoughts of Falaura Glen. “Would you like me to place it on your finger or shall I simply give you the box?”

Perhaps she didn’t mean to grip his hand, nor for her eyes to widen with excitement. After all, this was all part of the deception.

“You put it on. Then if someone asks about the moment I first glimpsed the ring, I can tell a half truth.”

“Then you should remove your glove.” Lockhart released her hand and delved into the inside pocket of his coat. He removed the black box, raised the lid and presented the ring for her inspection.

Miss Darling’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets as she gawped at the amethyst and diamond halo ring. He had spared no expense. The traitor would know Lockhart had amassed great wealth while working abroad these last five years.

“You can touch it,” Lockhart said, trying to sit still as the carriage rocked back and forth. “It is yours now.”

Miss Darling swallowed audibly as she traced the circular cluster of diamonds with her fingertip. “You mean it is mine for the next week.”

“Indeed.”

For some obscure reason, his fingers shook as he pulled the ring from its velvet cushion. Miss Darling’s fingers trembled, too, as he pushed the gold band slowly down over her knuckle. How strange that it was a perfect fit.

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, still gaping in awe.

Lockhart scoffed at the question. Fake or not, his wife deserved better than a ring given by a host of hypocrites.

“No. It is a ring of my own choosing, not one handed down through generations.”

“Oh.” She examined the sparkling gems gracing her finger. “One purchased purely for the deception? I doubt you would want to honour the future Mrs Lockhart with a ring worn by another woman. Ladies tend to be rather pedantic about such things.”