A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

The sudden jerk of the carriage proved a timely intervention. The vehicle slowed and rumbled to a halt. Through the haze, Claudia noted a white townhouse with an excessive number of windows.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Home. Well, for the next week, at least.”

“I mean where in London.”

“Russell Square. Lord Greystone leased the property on my behalf. It comes with a modest staff, and Dariell hired a lady’s maid to assist you. She’s French. He also made arrangements for your wardrobe. Madame Armand is a talented modiste who exceeded his expectations.”

Her wardrobe?

Claudia suppressed the chuckle bubbling in her throat. The last time she’d worn a new dress fashion dictated straighter skirts and shorter sleeves. The rush of excitement had nothing to do with vanity. For once, she could indulge her desires without worrying about paying the bill.

“You will need to pick a dress for the masquerade ball this evening. Your maid has skill in making alterations but will—”

“You expect me to attend a ball this evening?” Panic ensued. She needed more time to prepare, more time to settle into her new role.

Mr Lockhart nodded. “We leave at ten.”

Ten? She lay curled up in bed at nine most nights.

Ten! That gave her less than five hours to prepare.

A footman appeared at the carriage window, the shiny buttons on his mustard coat attracting her attention. He opened the door, dropped the steps and assisted Claudia to the pavement.

Mr Lockhart exited the carriage. He placed his hand at the small of Claudia’s back and guided her towards the front door. It took a tremendous effort not to gasp in shock at the intimate gesture. Heavens, she would have to get used to a certain level of familiarity, and quickly.

They spent the next thirty minutes meeting the servants who would attend them during their stay in Russell Square. It became apparent that Mr Lockhart had leased the house for six months. What would he tell them when Claudia packed her valise and fled in the middle of the night? How would he explain her sudden departure? Not that it mattered. Whatever happened once the week was out was not her concern.

The housekeeper, Mrs Brewster—a woman whose serious countenance conveyed pride in her position—gave them a tour of the house.

“You understand that my wife and I wish to share the same bedchamber,” Mr Lockhart said when the housekeeper escorted them to the master suite.

Claudia stared at the four-poster bed. She blinked numerous times to banish the image of a muscular male body sprawled across the mattress. Perhaps she might negotiate the terms of their agreement once they returned from the masquerade.

“Yes, sir. Lord Greystone expressed your preferences.”

What? Had Mr Lockhart told his friend of his desire to sleep with his wife?

“I have moved Mrs Lockhart’s clothes into the dressing room as instructed.” Mrs Brewster gestured to the open door on their left which led into a side room dominated by two large armoires.

Nerves fluttered in Claudia’s stomach. Surely Mr Lockhart didn’t expect her to undress while he watched.

“Excellent.” Mr Lockhart’s arm slid around Claudia’s waist, and his hand settled on her hip. “Having spent months on a ship bound for England, we’re used to living in close quarters.”

As master of the house he had no need to explain, but the comment added a certain credibility to their story.

“Please send Lissette up in five minutes,” Claudia said, forcing a smile. She had to find something to distract her thoughts from the warm fingers caressing her hip. “I must choose a dress for the masquerade ball.”

“I trust Lord Greystone informed you we’re dining out tonight,” Mr Lockhart said, “though I shall still require a light repast at seven.”

“He did, and yes, sir.” Mrs Brewster turned to Claudia. “On the matter of dinner, ma’am, I shall have next week’s menus sent up for your approval.”

“Thank you, Mrs Brewster.” Claudia was keen to get rid of the housekeeper so her husband might stop with the pretence. “That will be all for now.”

As soon as the housekeeper exited the room and closed the door, Claudia swung around. “Must you be so open in your affections, sir?” she whispered.

A sinful grin played on the gentleman’s lips. She decided she preferred this look to the glum mood he had succumbed to earlier.