A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“What if she has jumped and we’re too late?” Claudia said. “It’s so cold her muscles would seize as soon as she hit the water.”

“She hasn’t the courage to jump.” In his gut, Lockhart knew that’s what Selina wanted them to think. “No, we’ll wait.”

Drake nodded. The carriage rocked as he climbed back up on the box.

Minutes passed before Drake rapped twice on the roof—a signal to say someone approached.

“Are you ready?” Lockhart shuffled to the edge of the seat. “Drake is under instructions to save you regardless of all else. By now, Terence will have received my note and will join us soon.” He was about to lean forward and claim her mouth in a kiss filled with lust and love and hope for the future, but Drake rapped on the roof again.

“I saw a figure in the mist,” Drake said as Lockhart climbed out of the conveyance. “The person wore a long cloak, but I can’t tell if it’s a man or woman.”

“Where?” Lockhart peered through the grey cloud swamping everything in its path.

“Just beyond the next gas lamp.” Drake pointed to the faint yellow glow in the distance.

“I’ll go on foot. Roll slowly alongside.” He would not leave Claudia alone and vulnerable in the carriage.

Drake flicked the reins but did not shout instructions to the team.

The clip of Lockhart’s boots on the stone path rang like a death-knell. The eerie noises of the dark echoed from the depths of the ghostly mist. Boats moved like phantoms in the water beneath them, the creak of oars the only sign of their presence. The sterile smell of cold air might have cleared his mind, had the wind not whipped up the foul stench of death and decay from the river below.

At first, Lockhart feared his eyes deceived him. The black figure measured ten-foot tall. But as he drew nearer, he realised his mistake. Selina Lockhart had climbed the parapet. She stood on top of the capstones as if on stage, gripping the post of the gas lamp to steady her balance.

“Selina?” Lockhart spoke softly so as not to startle the woman, but she knew he was there.

Shrouded beneath the folds of her hood, he could see nothing but her dark, wild eyes staring back. “The invitation was for two,” she said. “I want your wife to hear what I have to say.”

“This is just between us,” he said, wishing he’d left Claudia at home. “We share a history no one else understands.”

“A history?” she spat. “What happened on that terrible night ruined everything.”

“And it is in the past, Selina.” Had she dragged him all the way to Richmond to incite his pity? “You’re married to Terence now. What good will any of this serve?”

She shook her head, clutched the post with both hands. “But I want to be married to you.”

Lockhart firmed his jaw. He could not lie. He could never lie about his feelings for Claudia. “It’s too late. I love my wife. I am so deeply in love with her there will never be anyone else for me.”

A heart-wrenching sob burst from Selina’s lips. “No! That’s not how it was meant to be. I was too weak then, too weak to fight for us, too foolish to understand how conniving he could be, but I’m stronger now.”

Lockhart tried to make sense of her ramblings. “To whom are you referring?” Hell’s teeth surely she didn’t mean Terence.

“I want to speak to your wife,” she suddenly said.

“I don’t see what good it will do.” Lockhart glanced left and right, scoured the haze to ensure no one else lingered, waiting to pounce.

“You said I don’t know what love is, but you’re wrong,” Selina continued. “At the theatre, your wife made her claim, and I didn’t get to make mine.”

“Have I not already explained my position?” He exhaled a white puff of frustration into the cold night air.

To make matters worse, the carriage door opened and Claudia stepped out.

Drake muttered a curse. He climbed down from his perch and set about checking the horses.

“You’re right,” Claudia said, the rattle of fear evident in her voice. “I stated my case but did not give you the opportunity to state yours.”

Gripping the post with one hand, Selina tugged down the hood of her cloak. “When you see us together, there is no comparison,” she said, brushing her loose ebony locks over her shoulder. “I have an elegance, a natural charm that comes with good breeding. There is something of the country bumpkin about you.”

Selina had clearly spent too much time with his mother.