A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“Where now?” Claudia asked, pushing her fingers firmly into her gloves as they waited on the pavement.

“We’ll take the carriage to New Bond Street.” Focusing on vengeance proved difficult when all he wanted to do was ferry his darling wife to Russell Square and make love to her more thoroughly than he had last night. “We’ll inquire at the numerous apothecaries to find out which one supplies my father’s medicine.”

Intuition told him that if he delved deeper into his father’s illness, he might find clues as to who had framed him for murder on that fateful night. Justin had everything to gain—money, position in the family. Terence did, too. As of yet, his enemy had not made any obvious move. That said, Lockhart’s sudden trip to Falaura Glen might have stalled the fiend.

“We can but try,” she said, “and we do have a few hours to spare until we meet the doctor.”

“Dr Hewlett said there are at least five shops selling medicine on that street.” He had not kissed her since this morning and could not resist the urge to touch her arm now. “Come. If we hurry, we might have time for a stroll in the park.”

She eyed him suspiciously through half-closed lids. “How is it you make a walk sound positively sinful?”

Lockhart grinned. “It’s not the walk that heats my blood, but the thought of dragging you into the bushes to steal a kiss.”

Claudia shook her head. “What will you do when you no longer have a wife to tease?”

The question hit him like a hard punch in the gut. What would he do when she left? In whom would he confide his darkest secrets? Who would challenge his reckless decisions?

“You’ll not get rid of me so easily,” he said, sensing the truth in the playful words.

“Who said I want rid of you?” Claudia smiled and their gazes locked.

The sound of his carriage rattling to a halt beside them broke the spell. Lockhart spent the next fifteen minutes staring at her in the confines of his conveyance. His thoughts danced back to their illicit liaison inside the rotunda. Oh, the feel of her delicate hand pumping his cock had sent his head spinning. The feel of her tight body clamped around him had intensified his craving.

He would make love to her again.

Tonight, should she be willing.

Yes, tonight he would lavish her delightful breasts, would pleasure her aching flesh with his tongue until she begged him to fill her full. Last night, it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to withdraw from her needy body. Part of him didn’t want to think what that meant. It had nothing to do with enhancing his pleasure and everything to do with making this fantasy real.

A sigh from the opposite side of the carriage dragged him from his lascivious musings. More than once, Claudia stifled a yawn before feigning interest in the passing scenery. That was until they rumbled to a halt outside the first apothecary shop on New Bond Street and she almost choked on a startled gasp.

It wasn’t the rows of brown bottles in the shop’s window that caused her mouth to drop open and her eyes to grow wide. It wasn’t the small boy being dragged along the street by his irate mother that made her jerk her head back from the glass pane.

“What is it?” Panic gripped him when her bottom lip trembled.

A few seconds passed before she spoke. “That shop, the one two doors down from the apothecary, what can one buy there?”

Lockhart glanced at the swinging sign marked Higson and Son. From the various watercolours and assortment of quill pens displayed in the window, it was a stationery shop. “Many things. Art supplies, paintings, pencils. They print calling cards and invitations.” He frowned, thought to make light of her odd reaction but found he could not. “Why do you ask?”

She shot back in the seat, her face ashen. “Oh, I thought I recognised the person who left the shop a moment ago, someone from Flamstead.”

“So that’s why you look as if you’ve seen the devil.”

“Indeed.”

Being seen in a carriage with an unmarried gentleman would undoubtedly stir the gossips in Flamstead. “We don’t have to alight here. We can begin our enquiries at the top of the street.”

Lockhart did not wait for a reply, but banged on the roof and relayed instructions to his coachman. Miss Darling struggled to sit still. She fiddled with her fingers, chewed her bottom lip.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said. Guilt flared for having placed her in this awkward predicament. “Wait in the carriage if you’re worried someone might notice you.”

He expected her to laugh, to confess to being foolish, suffering from paranoia. He expected her to insist on standing by his side when he trailed from shop to shop badgering the proprietors for information.

“Would you mind? The last thing Emily needs is for someone to start vicious rumours.”

Good God, she was lying.

He recognised the shifty look in her eye, the same one he’d seen when she sat opposite him in the cottage and pr