A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

“I imagine regular trips to the pawnbroker might be your only hope of paying the debt,” the devil said.

“Then the answer is no, sir. Pawnbrokers pay a pittance.”

Mr Thorncroft scanned the cluttered room as if it were a hovel for the poor and needy. “Yes, and I highly doubt there’s anything here worth selling.”

The magistrate’s weary sigh and numerous glances at the clock conveyed his thoughts about being dragged from Meadowbrook to listen to Mr Thorncroft’s irritating snobbery.

“Precisely why I did not waste my time.” Claudia drew the papers towards her in a bid to look efficient. “Indeed, having some reservations regarding the contract, I took a trip to town to consult a solicitor.”

“A solicitor?” Mr Thorncroft frowned. His hawk eyes flicked back and forth in their sockets. “We signed the document in front of the magistrate.” He gestured to the gentleman at his side, who had suddenly sat up and taken notice. “Your sister acted as a witness, too.”

Claudia shook her head. “I am not referring to the contract made a week ago, but of the agreement made by you and my father when he supposedly asked for a loan.”

“Look, my dear,” Mr Hollingsworth began, leaning forward in order to appear intimidating, “we are here to discuss payment of a debt not what occurred more than a year ago. Are you able to settle? That is the only question of any consequence.”

“It is not the only question, sir. During my visit to London, I happened to see Mr Thorncroft exiting Higson’s stationery shop in New Bond Street.” Dariell had extracted that piece of information from her, too.

“The gentleman’s shopping habits have no relevance,” Mr Hollingsworth snapped.

Mr Thorncroft remained silent, his intense gaze boring into her.

“Imagine my surprise when I discovered the proprietor’s skill with a quill extended to forgery,” Claudia said with the confidence of an actress used to playing demanding roles, for it was pure supposition after all.

Perhaps it was foolish to make such a sweeping statement. Perhaps she risked being charged with slander for challenging the authenticity of the signature. But having begun her case for the prosecution, Claudia wouldn’t rest until she had proven Mr Thorncroft was guilty.

Mr Thorncroft snorted. “Buying paper and ink is hardly a crime. And my only dealings with the proprietor extended to paying the bill.” He cleared his throat. “Let us stop this nonsense. Do you have the funds to pay or not, Miss Darling?”

Undeterred by their menacing glares, Claudia sorted through the papers on the desk. She offered the magistrate examples of her father’s signature, documents signed three years ago.

“As you can see from the evidence shown, the signatures on both documents are identical. Please note the dates.”

The magistrate looked down his nose and gave the items his brief consideration.

“Here, you see that the signature on the loan is identical to those already shown,” Claudia said, pushing the other examples across the desk.

“What does this prove, Miss Darling?” The magistrate’s words carried a veiled challenge, a sinister threat that she should think carefully before making accusations.

“I shall tell you if given a chance.” Claudia’s patience was wearing thin.

“It proves that the lady is stalling,” Mr Thorncroft replied. “It proves she is trying to undermine the legitimacy of the contract. The only notable question worth an answer relates to the debt of fifteen hundred pounds.”

Mr Hollingsworth huffed. He shook his head as he glanced at the clock. “Just answer the question, Miss Darling, so we can bring this matter to a swift conclusion. Do you have the funds to settle the debt?”

“No.” Claudia raised her chin. “I do not.”

Mr Thorncroft’s eyes brightened. “Excellent. Then as per our agreement, we shall arrange for the vicar to read the banns on Sunday.”

Claudia would rather spend a year in Newgate than a day married to this buffoon.

“I cannot marry you, Mr Thorncroft,” she found the courage to say. The bang of the brass knocker hitting the front door plate made her jump, but she would not veer from her course. “You may prosecute me. The magistrate may conduct an inquest and haul me before the assizes. Do what you must. Either way, nothing would induce me to accept a proposal.”

The devil shot forward, his eyes sharp and black, his teeth bared. “Oh, you will marry me if I have to drag you to the damn church myself.” Without warning, he lunged and grabbed hold of her wrist. “You’ll marry me else you’ll rue the day you made me your enemy.”

She heard Emily’s frantic mutterings in the hall. Never had her poor sister sounded so afraid.

Anger flamed hot in her chest. “Release me at once,” she commanded.

Mr Thorncroft’s sharp talons dug into her skin. “Not until you agree to abide by our contract.” He firmed his grip and twisted her wrist.