A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Good Lord!

The sudden realisation that she could not take his money stole her breath. Money devalued everything that had occurred between them. Money tainted their love.

Claudia glanced at the diamond and amethyst ring on her finger. She could never part with something so precious.

So where in the devil’s name would she get the money to pay Mr Thorncroft?

“Return to Falaura Glen and deal with your problems,” Hudson said, the richness of his voice pulling her from her reverie. “Know that I will be waiting here for you should you wish to return.”

“There is nothing I want more than to come home to you.” Claudia tried to fight the tears. “Will you do something for me?” she said, choking back a sob.

“I would do anything.”

“Hold me. Let me sleep in your arms tonight.”

She did not need to ask twice.

Hudson gathered her to his chest, stroked her hair, kissed her brow. “Our paths are entwined, our fate shared. We must have faith that life will give us what we need.”

“You sound like Dariell.”

“He’s an intelligent man.” Hudson drew the coverlet up around their shoulders. “I am attempting to use wisdom as a crutch.”

Claudia closed her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat.

She had to trust that this was not goodbye or farewell. She would put her faith in the only thing she believed in—she would put her faith in love.

* * *

The second Lockhart opened his eyes he knew she was gone.

The house was quiet, the bed cold.

A huge hole filled his chest.

Despite fighting against it, the urge to turn his head and glance at her pillow proved overwhelming. The empty space confirmed his worst fears. For a few minutes he strained to listen, hoping to hear the pad of footsteps, hear the giggle that left her lips whenever she whispered secretly with Lissette.

Silence.

This was not how he envisioned things would end.

Then again, nothing about his time with Miss Darling—his darling—had gone according to plan.

He supposed he should dress, check on his father, wait for the doctor. He supposed he should visit Terence, offer his condolences, meet with his mother and revel in the prospect of informing her she’d been duped by a devil. He supposed he should bring some semblance of normality to his disordered life, and yet he could not find the strength to drag his body out of bed.

An hour passed, maybe two or three.

He missed the rhythmical sound of her breathing, missed the soft breeze of her breath on his neck.

Everything about his world felt different, felt wrong.

Anger surfaced.

Goddamn, she hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. A rush of rage enlivened his spirits. He imagined her creeping into the armoire, emptying his satchel, sneaking off into the night like a thief who had stolen his heart.

The painful organ beating in his chest told him that was untrue.

She’d abandoned him, then. In effect, she was as good as standing on the dock in Portsmouth, telling him she couldn’t come with him, forcing him to board the boat alone.