A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Hester Lockhart raised her chin. “Like any good son, the boy is not one for gallivanting and refuses to leave his father’s side.”

“Unlike me.”

“You do remember your father? The man abandoned by his eldest son? The man on his deathbed?” She flopped back on the chaise and raised a limp hand to her forehead. “None of us are in good health, Hudson. This is all too much.”

Oddly, the welfare of Alfred and Hester Lockhart was not his first consideration. His only thought was for his fake wife, the woman carrying his imagined child. They were still standing because his mother hadn’t the decency to offer them a seat.

“My wife is with child,” he said, anger rising in his chest at Claudia’s mistreatment. “She suffers from bouts of dizziness, and so I must insist she sits and rests for a moment.”

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The matron lowered her hand and considered Claudia through half-closed lids. Based on her obsession for pale blue, his mother should have found Madame Armand’s elegant pelisse with ermine cuffs rather pleasing. But Hester Lockhart rarely expressed approval.

“Poor Selina has had an awful time,” his mother said, ignoring the kind smile Claudia cast the matron’s way. “It’s the stress, you know. The stress of tending to ailing parents makes it impossible to conceive. And she is so attentive to our needs.”

Despite surviving in a harsh climate, working in harsh conditions, nothing roused frustration like his mother’s insensitive comments. Resentment festered. Disappointment cut to the bone. Bitterness seeped from wounds that had never healed.

“Forgive me, Mrs Lockhart,” Claudia suddenly said. “If I do not sit down soon, I’m afraid I must take my leave.” She turned to Lockhart and placed her hand on his forearm. “I shall wait for you in the carriage.”

Clever minx.

His mother craved attention, craved an audience.

“Then I shall bid my mother good day—”

“Oh, do sit down,” his mother snapped. “I’ve got a crick in my neck from staring up at you.”

“Thank you, Mrs Lockhart, you are most kind.”

Lockhart waited for Claudia to sit before dropping into the chair next to her.

“As I was saying,” his mother continued, “Selina is here most days. Your father adores her. Of course, she should have married you, Hudson. The two of you are far more suited. You broke her heart when you left.”

Lockhart clenched his jaw. “Things worked out for the best. I never loved Selina, but I do love my wife.” He captured Miss Darling’s hand and held it tight. It was not a fake gesture to spite his mother, but he had an overwhelming urge to offer support, to take comfort from her touch, too.

“And our child will be born to doting parents,” Claudia said in a sweet voice devoid of malice. “For there is no greater gift in this world than being raised in a loving home.”

For a moment, his mother appeared dumbstruck. No doubt her devious mind scrambled to decide if the comment carried a veiled attack.

To annoy his mother, Lockhart drew Claudia’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And you will want for nothing as long as I am your protector.”

A tense silence ensued though his mother’s penetrating stare was sharp enough to pierce skin, draw blood.

“Words fall easily from the lips,” the matron sniped. “When one judges character it is best to consider a person’s history, my dear, for therein lies the truth. Once a deserter, always a deserter. Isn’t that what they say, Hudson?”

A rage to rival the devil’s wrath burned in Lockhart’s chest. Pain for the boy who had done nothing to feed her hatred lingered there, too. What the hell did his mother want from him? His complete surrender would not be enough. He was wasting his time here.

Indeed, Lockhart was about to jump to his feet when Claudia cleared her throat.

“Once a cynic, always a cynic. Isn’t that what they say, Mrs Lockhart?” Claudia raised her chin, though her cheeks flushed pink. “Thankfully, I know enough about Hudson to know he has a good heart, to know he makes sacrifices for his family, to know nothing he has done in his life stems from selfish intentions.”

Hester Lockhart snorted and opened her mouth to speak, but Miss Darling did not give her a chance to utter another word.

“When Hudson Lockhart says he will protect me, I believe him. When Hudson Lockhart promises to be a good husband and father, I know he will love his wife and children unconditionally.”

Miss Darling turned to face him. He might have wondered if her powerful monologue was part of the script, but the water welling in her eyes implied the words came from an honest place.

“I cannot control what people say, Hudson, but I can choose not to listen.” Claudia rose to her feet and cradled her stomach. The gesture stirred something within him, another unnamed emotion. “And I refuse to sit here and watch such a vicious, unprovoked attack.”