A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

The black clouds in the distance were thick with the promise of rain. The storm would be upon them within the hour unless the wind changed course.

“Oh, I best warn Miss Emily.” Mrs Bitton glanced up at the dark sky. “I doubt she’s expecting rain.”

“Don’t tell me she’s left the windows open again.”

“No, ma’am. She’s taken her supper outside this evening.”

Pretty wrinkles formed on Claudia’s brow. “Outside? In November?” Panic took command of her voice. “What if she catches her death of cold? You know how susceptible she is to catching chills and fevers.”

Mrs Bitton wrung her hands and shuffled on the spot. “They’ve built a shelter in the garden, ma’am. I’m sure it will keep the cold out.”

“They?”

The housekeeper’s bottom lip quivered. “Mr D-Dariell and Miss Emily are having a picnic.”

“A picnic? In November? A picnic in a shelter?”

Lockhart suppressed a grin. He had to admit it sounded rather romantic. “Come, let us find this foolish pair and give them a piece of our minds.”

Claudia raised her brows. “You said I could trust him to take care of her.”

“And I’m sure he is doing a remarkable job.” Lockhart fought the urge to mutter a curse. If Dariell had ruined any chance of Claudia returning to London, he would string his friend up by the ballocks. “Come. I presume they?

??re in the garden.”

“Yes, sir. They’ve made a tent inside the stone rotunda.”

“A tent?” Claudia threw her hands in the air. After numerous huffs and puffs, she grabbed hold of Lockhart’s arm as if he were a naughty boy about to receive his punishment. “You may return to your duties, Mrs Bitton, we will deal with this debacle.”

And with that, Miss Darling marched him through the house, out through the terrace doors and along the narrow path lined with trimmed topiary. The light spilling from the house covered the garden in a faint golden glow to illuminate their way. It was a perfect setting if one were intent on seduction.

“I blame myself, of course,” she muttered as she dragged him along. “Heaven knows, that scandalous nightgown should have been a clue. And he’s friends with you, a man whose wicked tongue can render a woman helpless.”

The compliment roused a sense of masculine pride. “My tongue renders you helpless, Miss Darling?”

She pulled him left as the path widened. “Helpless to the point I forget my own name. It’s not healthy to be so consumed with passion that you lose the use of your faculties.”

Lockhart cleared his throat. “There is nothing more healthy or invigorating than losing one’s head to lust.”

“Lust?” Claudia whispered through gritted teeth. “There you go again with—” She skidded to an abrupt halt and gaped open-mouthed at the Grecian-inspired rotunda at the end of the path. “Heaven above.”

Lockhart drank in the sight of the magical scene. Heaven did describe the enchanting setting designed by Dariell to impress a woman who would never see its magnificent beauty.

Reams of white sheets hung in the spaces between the pillars, the material flapping and billowing in the breeze. Ivy trailed around each of the stone columns, ivy threaded with red November roses. Miss Emily lay stretched on a chaise in the middle of the rotunda, huddled beneath a mound of furs. Amber flames flickered in the copper brazier burning near the entrance. Supper was but an arm’s reach away laid out on a trestle table. And Dariell sat on a rug piled with a rainbow of vibrant cushions reading to his transfixed companion.

The scene roused a feeling of inadequacy. Dariell certainly knew how to seduce a woman.

With her chin still touching her chest, Claudia stepped forward.

Like a deer sensing a distant sound, Emily looked up. Dariell glanced back over his shoulder and came to his feet upon noticing their approach. He said something to Emily, and the lady smiled in response.

“Oh, Hudson, I have never seen Emily look so happy,” Claudia whispered as they neared the rotunda.

“No,” Lockhart mused, noting the radiance in his friend’s eyes, too. “I’ve never seen Dariell look so pleased with himself, either.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Is everything all right?” Emily said as Dariell helped her to her feet and draped a fur stole around her shoulders. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”