A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

A host of questions flooded Lockhart’s addled brain. “What do you mean?” Panic choked his throat. “You said you’d dealt with things.”

“Selina’s coachman dealt with the matter while I scoured the woods looking for his accomplice.”

“So what the hell did he do with the body?”

Claudia placed her other hand on his arm. “Terence said he doesn’t know.”

Lockhart narrowed his gaze. Was this all part of the plot to overthrow him?

“Selina gave the instruction,” Terence informed. “She said it was best we remain ignorant. Should the incident ever come to light, we wouldn’t be forced to lie.”

So despite her distress, Selina had considered how the event might impact her in the fut

ure. How courageous. Then again, maybe Lockhart had inherited his mother’s cynical view.

Either way, the declaration presented a far more serious problem.

“The coachman’s devotion to his duties surpassed that of any servant I’ve ever known,” Lockhart said.

The man’s loyalty to Selina went above and beyond the call of duty. Particularly when one considered he was employed by her father, Mr Garthwaite. But her father had died two years ago. So where in hell’s name was the coachman?

“The impression I got was that Selina could have asked him to do anything and he would have obliged.”

“And where is he now?” Lockhart tried to keep the desperation from his voice.

“Dead.”

“Dead?” Why was he not surprised?

“All I know is he left Mr Garthwaite’s employ and boarded a boat to Boston. Somehow during the journey, he fell overboard.”

People did not fall overboard—invariably they jumped or were hurled into the water by someone with a grudge. “And you don’t think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is the series of events that have occurred since Lord Greystone’s return to London,” Terence countered. “And yet through the confusion, there appears to be a common thread.”

“Money,” Claudia said with confidence. “Money is the impetus. It is certainly not love, for I do not believe you love Selina.”

A month ago, Lockhart would have scoffed at the mere mention of the word love. Now, he could not deny that one could develop a profound and passionate connection. Trust had been a problem for him, too. And while he still doubted the integrity of most people, he would place his life in the hands of the woman sitting at his side.

“About Selina …” Terence’s chin dropped. He glanced at the buttons on his waistcoat. When he sighed, his shoulders slumped forward. After taking a few deep breaths, he raised his head. “There was a profound attraction, an attraction I could not deny.”

“Is that why you grew distant those last few months?” Lockhart recalled his brother making excuses to avoid his company.

“I assumed it was just a passing phase.” His cheeks flushed crimson. “On the journey back from Portsmouth, she was inconsolable. One embrace led to a kiss … a kiss led to something of which I am deeply ashamed.”

Lockhart waited to feel another sharp stab—the pain of betrayal—but it didn’t come.

“So you’re saying you loved her once,” Claudia attempted to clarify. “A man who cavorts with another lady in her box in full view of the audience cannot possibly love his wife.”

Claudia was right. When Lockhart thought of touching any other woman other than the delightful Miss Darling, his stomach roiled.

With tense shoulders and pinched lips, Terence looked like a man who’d been stabbed in the heart, not the back. For a moment it sounded as if he’d stopped breathing.

“It took a few years to realise the truth,” Terence eventually said. “Selina is an extremely good actress.” He gathered himself. “You’re right, Mrs Lockhart. Money is the impetus for all Selina’s decisions.”

“With your predilection for gambling,” Lockhart scoffed, “I imagine you fought often.”

Terence frowned. “Is that what Selina told you? I’m not the one who loses money at the tables. Every matron in the ton knows not to invite her to their card games. Ask around if you distrust my word. Since I restricted Selina’s funds, she’s taken an extreme dislike to me.”