A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Claudia sat behind her father’s mahogany desk, picking at the worn corners of the green leather surface. A distant clock struck ten. Another rang the hour a few minutes later. The damnable things had never kept good time. Indeed, a heavy heart and crippling trepidation forced her to glance at the mantel clock, just as that infernal timepiece donged, too.

Had she been waiting for Hudson, she would relish every tick, welcome every chime. Knowing that it was Mr Thorncroft coming to call made her want to steal all the pendulums in the house and lock them away in a dusty drawer.

To add to the assault on her nerves and her eardrums, the knocker on the front door fell with a loud bang. Not once. Three times. Mr Thorncroft liked to make a grand entrance.

A long minute passed before Emily entered the study, her mouth drawn into a grim line. “Mr Thorncroft is here. I’ve told Mrs Bitton to keep him waiting in the hall, just in case you needed a moment to gather your thoughts. Mr Hollingsworth is with him, too, as you requested.”

Heavens! Claudia felt sick to her stomach.

She resisted the urge to press her forehead to the desk, to curse and weep and lament her reckless decision.

“Before I speak to them, Emily, I must ask you the same question I have asked five times already.” Claudia gathered herself and straightened her shoulders. “Are you certain you wish to marry Monsieur Dariell?”

Emily’s face brightened, and she clasped her hands to her chest. “I cannot think of anything I want more.”

“And your decision has nothing to do with the fact we might have to sell Falaura Glen?” If not the house, then they would have to part with the contents. “You’re not worried about my growing attraction to Mr Lockhart?”

Growing attraction was somewhat of an understatement.

“I love Monsieur Dariell.” Emily edged closer to the desk. “When I am with him I feel alive, so alive I could conquer the world. He doesn’t treat me like an invalid, like my lack of sight must mean I’m a simpleton, too. Oh, we talk about the most amazing things.”

Claudia certainly knew what it was like to feel the power of love flowing through one’s veins. And yet this was not a sudden revelation. Every day for the last month, she had watched the beginnings of their love blossom.

“And during my absence, he behaved like a gentleman?” The image of Hudson’s naked body flashed into Claudia’s mind. Hypocrite some might say, but she hated the thought of anyone taking advantage of Emily.

“Of course,” Emily said, like it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I have kissed him. I just couldn’t help myself. One minute we were waltzing about the room, the next …”

The declaration brought a smile to Claudia’s lips. Passion was potent, powerful. “Monsieur Dariell will make a fine husband, I’m sure.”

Indeed, the Frenchman had a charm that went beyond gentlemanly manners. He listened with his penetrating gaze as if he could read every thought in her mind. Ten minutes spent in his company this morning and Claudia had told him she’d not taken Hudson’s money and, more surprisingly, the reason why. The man had a mystical power, one capable of dragging a confession from the Cato Street conspirators.

“So, I have your permission to treat Mr Thorncroft with the disdain he deserves?” Claudia asked.

“Most definitely.” Emily’s smile faded. “Do what you must, but you cannot marry him.”

No, she could most certainly not do that.

The dilemma regarding the contract had kept her awake for most of the night, amid daydreams about Hudson Lockhart, and crying into her pillow. It would be unwise to come out and directly accuse Mr Thorncroft of fraud, not in front of the magistrate, but she might lead the conversation in that direction. The penalty for breach of contract would most probably involve financial compensation. It would take months for Mr Thorncroft to bring a private prosecution, giving her time to investigate further.

Months!

One night away from Hudson felt like forever.

“Call Mr Thorncroft and Mr Hollingsworth into the study.” Claudia straightened the papers on the desk and attempted to look composed.

Emily nodded. “I might hit Mr Thorncroft with my stick when he’s not looking,” she said, gripping the walking cane Dariell had given her to help navigate the furniture and doorways.

“What a splendid idea.” Claudia feigned an amused tone yet inside her heart thumped hard, and her stomach roiled.

Emily left the room and returned a few moments later with both gentlemen in tow.

Claudia did not stand to welcome them or offer a curtsy, mainly because she feared her legs might buckle under the strain.

Mr Thorncroft looked smug as he clutched his cane and dropped into the seat opposite. Mr Hollingsworth—a stout gentleman with ruddy cheeks and a shock of white hair—looked mildly irritated. No doubt it was all a dreadful inconvenience.

“I trust you’ve had an eventful week, Miss Darling.” Mr Thorncroft’s beady stare sent a shiver from her neck to her navel.

“Eventful?” Oh, yes, she had attended a masquerade, the theatre, bathed naked in an unmarried gentleman’s bedchamber. She had been shot at, kissed, ravished, devoured by her hot-blooded lover.