A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“You’re right. I often speak without thought.” He could be magnanimous. He could be an arrogant arse, too, but this lady roused the gentleman in him. “You may find it hard to bear my company.”

Miss Darling’s mouth curled into a weak smile. “It’s surprising what a lady will put up with when faced with the prospect of earning seventeen hundred pounds.”

Chapter Six

London was not the vibrant metropolis Claudia had envisioned. Well, not at five in the evening when smothered by a grey blanket of fog. While aware of the plight of the impoverished, she had expected to see ladies in fine gowns promenading down streets lined with carriages. But it was as if a malevolent presence filled the air, chasing people into their homes, choking those who’d found the courage to step outdoors.

“Is it always so dismal?” Claudia asked as the sight threatened to suck her spirits down into its murky depths.

“Not in the summer.”

Mr Lockhart’s mood matched the depressing scene outside. He had fallen into a tense silence since passing through the turnpike, since the noise of the bustling city reached their ears. While Claudia had watched the hazy figures of men carrying torches to prevent accidents on the road, he had shrunk back into the shadows. Subdued. Solemn.

Not knowing what to say or how to soothe him—for they were strangers after all—she had stared into the gloom while worrying about how Emily was coping at home.

The week would be long and tiresome if they continued like this.

Brooding only created barricades.

“Are you thinking about the past?” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.

He did not reply.

“You’re replaying the events that led to you leaving.” Most people did a similar thing when struggling with a problem. “You’re letting bitterness consume your rational thoughts.”

Whether her assessment proved accurate was immaterial. Her only motive was to tempt him to converse.

“Are you sure Dariell has not enrolled you in his school of insight?” Mr Lockhart eventually said, though his voice held a hint of mockery. “You appear to have an innate ability to read my thoughts.”

Claudia smiled inwardly and gave he

rself an imaginary pat on the back for a job well done. “Is it not part of the human condition to analyse the past?”

“Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Darling?”

“Most definitely.”

He straightened. “Then what else would you have me do? What would Dariell suggest?”

Oh, what was it the Frenchman said about the heart? Emily would know. She listened intently whenever Monsieur Dariell spoke.

“We should be busy constructing a plan, not dwelling on something beyond our control.”

“We?” Even in the dark confines of the carriage, she saw the suspicious glint that played in his eyes whenever someone challenged him.

Claudia retaliated with a smile. “I am your wife and have a vested interest in the outcome.”

“A vested interest? Ah, you mean money. Have no fear, Miss Darling. I shall ensure you’re paid even if I’m hauled to the gallows and left to dangle from the neck until dead.”

“Don’t say that.” A sharp pain stabbed her chest when she pictured him meeting his demise. “From what you’ve said, your brother is the only one who knows about your supposed involvement in the murder. I doubt he will call a constable and bring shame upon the Lockhart name.”

“My brother’s silence came at a price,” he said, a menacing aura radiating from him once again.

“Do you speak of the five years you spent abroad?”

“Of the five long, laborious years.”

“We’ve reverted to speaking about the past again,” she said. “Let us focus on the present.”