A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Miss Darling stared down her nose in silent disapproval. She rubbed the mist from the window and looked out, feigned interest in the trees whipping by.

“What?” he pressed. “You disagree with my motive?”

Did the prospect of his wife bearing a child not give him a reason to return to clear his name?

Her gaze flicked in his direction. “Vengeance is an illusion.”

“Did Dariell tell you that?” Lockhart snorted.

Had his friend been preaching about man’s eagerness to corrupt his soul?

Had he insisted Miss Darling was a good choice because he knew she would continue to taunt Lockhart, to question his reasoning?

“You think the truth will make you happy,” Miss Darling said. “It won’t.”

Lockhart folded his arms across his chest. “Then what would make me happy, pray tell?”

She raised her chin. “Acceptance.”

“Acceptance?” he mocked.

This guileless maiden was even more naive than he suspected. She knew nothing of life’s trials and tribulations. She might want for money, but no one had ever stripped away her character and trampled it into the dirt. No one had ever manipulated the truth to hold her to ransom.

“Accept what happened to you. Find the truth and move on. Ruining lives will not bring you the peace you crave. Hurting others will not lessen the pain.”

The need to fight, the need to punish those responsible, burned inside him like a constant flame. Acceptance left no room for justice. And who wanted to live in a world without justice?

“Thankfully, I am not paying you for your opinion, Miss Darling.” His blunt response forced her to inhale sharply.

The lady’s gaze shot back to the window, misted once again from the heat of their breath. This time she did not bother to wipe away the droplets but watched them trickle slowly down the pane.

Tension returned to crush the air from the confined space.

They had made some progress on their journey. She had spoken without blushing, without the surreptitious glances she stole whenever she struggled to look him in the eye. Having more or less told her she was as good as the hired help, it was up to him to fill the silence.

“The first disagreement is always the hardest,” he said in a lighthearted tone to show he was not annoyed. “I’m told reconciliation is often rewarding.”

Kissing after a heated argument was said to cause an explosion of passion.

“We are allowed to disagree,” she said without looking at him.

Had Miss Darling been his lover, he would have taken her chin, drew her mouth to his and delved so deep inside she would forget the reason for her petulance.

“We are,” he agreed. He was used to the company of men. Men shouted and swore. Fists flew. They made their point, the argument soon forgotten. “Disagreements are healthy. Through differing opinions, we will come to know each other better.”

“Yes, I suspect we will disagree on many things, Mr Lockhart.”

“What happened to using our given names?”

She looked at him for longer than a few seconds. “A lady often addresses her husband formally when slightly annoyed.”

He could not tell if she spoke in earnest or in jest.

“What would I have to do for you to call me Hudson?” He had never been one to pander to a lady’s capricious moods. For his wife, he might make an exception. For his wife, he might consider seducing her into submission.

“Do not speak to me as if this arrangement is one-sided,” she snapped. When making a point, she lost all trace of nerves. “We are assisting each other. Remember that, and we will find the wherewithal to muddle through.”

To say her contradicting character traits fascinated him was an understatement. Devil take him, Dariell was right. This lady had enough humility to be the darling of the ton. She had enough self-worth to put every disreputable rogue in his place.