The Viscount Made Me Do It

by Diana Quincy

  “But I do. And you shall have your pick.”

  Hanna’s mouth fell open. “Oh no!” She set her tea down. “I would never impose on your generosity.”

  “That is what family is for. I have rather too many gowns, and you are in need of one. We’ll find just the right dress. Then my maid will alter it for you. Hasna is a magician with a needle.”

  “Still, I don’t think—”

  “Yalla. Let’s go.” Leela rose and reached for Hanna’s hand. “We’ve much work to do.”

  Hanna came to her feet. Her cousin was a force of nature who swept you along by the sheer force of her considerable charisma. “Let’s go shopping in the chamber that holds my gowns.”

  “You need an entire chamber for your gowns?” Hanna owned a total of six dresses, and they all fit easily in her wardrobe.

  “For my ball gowns and other evening gowns. Naturally, my day dresses are in a separate chamber.”

  “Naturally,” Hanna said before her cousin whisked her up the grand marble staircase.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Griff, come and meet Mr. Lassiter. He is one of our most generous donors.”

  Griff pasted a welcoming expression on his face. “How do you do?” He’d spent the last hour allowing Norman to lead him about the room like a show pony. Donors paid handsomely to mingle with a viscount in his own home. Griff gave them their money’s worth.

  Haven House sparkled. Wright and the staff had outdone themselves. Fresh flowers crowded every public room, and Griff had apparently spent a fortune on candles. Every surface gleamed. The staff bearing trays of champagne gracefully wove through the guests like dancers on a stage.

  Griff kept an eye out for Hanna all evening. She was late. Had she changed her mind about coming? He spotted Selina and her mother and excused himself to go and greet them.

  “I always said you’d grow up to be a handsome boy,” Mrs. Waller said as she gave Griff a warm hug. She was an older version of Selina. Her golden hair now streaked with gray. Lines fanned out from lively eyes and lips, suggesting that Mrs. Waller laughed easily and often. Her figure was more comfortably rounded than it had been fourteen years ago.

  “You always were too kind and overly generous.”

  Her eyes shone. “Your mama would be proud. As would your papa.”

  “I hope to be a credit to their memories.” It was all he could do for his parents now.

  Selina surveyed the ballroom. “Haven House looks splendid. It reminds me of old times.”

  Her mother nodded. “We did attend many social events here. Suppers, parties, balls. So many good memories.”

  Back then, Selina usually accompanied her parents. And when they were young, she and Griff would slip off somewhere on their own. Sometimes to sneak a cheroot procured from Felix.

  “I’m so grateful that I visited with your mother on her last night in Town,” Mrs. Waller said. “I treasure the memory.”

  “How was she that evening?” After years of avoiding all talk of his parents, Griff was hungry to hear about even their most insignificant interactions.

  “Uncertain about whether to accompany Griffin to Ashby. Your father wasn’t keen for you and her to go.”

  “He wasn’t? Why not?”

  “Something about him having some business to attend to. He was meeting his cousin there.”

  “His cousin?” Griff frowned. “Which cousin? Do you mean Dr. Pratt?”

  “That’s what Caroline said.” She peered beyond him. “I’m starved. Have you laid out a feast? We did give generously to your hospital.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You were quite munificent. Don’t let me keep you.”

  Selina swallowed the last of her champagne as she trailed after her mother. “I shall see you later.”

  Griff’s mind whirled. Father had met Norman at Ashby the weekend his parents were killed? He hadn’t seen Norman prior to the murders. It wasn’t until after the bodies were discovered that he’d rushed to Griff’s side.

  He scanned the room until he found Norman conversing with a group of other doctors. He made his way over. “I need a word.”

  “Ah, Lord Griffin,” Norman said. “Let me introduce you to—”

  “Now.”

  Norman frowned at the expression he saw on Griff’s face. He excused himself and followed Griff. “What’s this about?” he asked once they were alone in the study.

  “Why were you supposed to meet Father at Ashby the weekend he and Mother were killed?”

  Norman appeared genuinely puzzled. “What?”

  “Mother told a friend that Father was meeting you at Ashby.”

  Norman’s expression smoothed. “I did not meet your father at your country home, and I never had any plans to.”

  “Are you suggesting that my mother lied? Why would she do that?”

  “Not your mother. No.”

  Griff paused, letting the intent of Norman’s words sink in. “You are implying that Father dissembled.”

  “The dead are dead.” Norman rubbed the back of his head with the flat of his hand. “We should allow them to rest in peace.”

  “What the devil does that mean?”

  “That your father’s secrets should be permanently buried with him.”

  “Stop talking in riddles. Why would Father lie about meeting with you at Ashby?”

  Norman removed his spectacles and stared at them. “I hoped you would never have to hear this.”

  “Hear what?” Griff snapped, impatient. “Out with it.”

  “Your father wanted me to tell Caroline that I was meeting him in the country. I wasn’t meeting him, so I refused.”

  “Why did he ask you to lie?”

  “I suspect Jeffrey intended to meet a woman at Ashby.” He replaced his glasses, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. “I took him to task for it. We argued. And then I left.”

  Griff’s mouth dropped open. “Are you suggesting that my father was meeting his mistress?”

  “He never confirmed it,” Norman said. “But why else did he want me to lie for him? Why was he reluctant to allow you and Caroline to accompany him to Ashby?”

  Griff’s stomach churned. His parents had always seemed content together. He knew firsthand that they’d spent most nights in the same bed. “Did my father ever confirm the existence of another woman?”

  “He did not. I never asked directly. The truth is that I didn’t want to know. I never wanted to burden you with this. But I always wondered if his reason for going to the country was somehow related to his death.”

  “How so?”

  “What if there was a jealous husband who didn’t expect to find your mother there? Maybe she tried to come to Jeffrey’s defense.”

  “That’s quite a leap.”

  “It explains why he didn’t harm you.”

  “You and I both know why the assailant didn’t go after me. I wasn’t in the house when it happened.”

  “You’ve always refused to say where you were and who you were with.”

  “And I shall continue to do so.” Griff pulled open the study door. “We should rejoin the guests.”

  Griff returned to find that Hanna had finally arrived.

  He blinked, his mouth going dry. He admired her beauty even in her no-nonsense gowns with their modest necklines. But this evening Hanna was a true vision, resplendent in a silk evening gown of the palest blue.

  The flowing fabric whispered over her body, like a lover caressing every dip in her feminine form. From the curve of her bosom to the turn of her waist and the flare of luscious hips. The stiff fabric of her everyday gowns did not offer the slightest hint of the womanly bounty that lay beneath.

  Not that her gown was daring in any way. She’d selected a military-inspired design, with gold braiding and epaulets. Armor for the evening ahead. Her eyes were dark pools, her cheeks flushed, the lips pink and full. Strangers might see a fully confident woman. But Griff detected the banked defiance glittering behind her kohl-rimmed eyes an
d in the red of her cheeks.

  It took him a moment to notice the man who stood by her side. His lip curled. Bridges.

  Griff approached her. “Good evening.”

  “My lord.” She lowered herself. Someone had taught the bonesetter to curtsy with the skill and grace of a lady. When she straightened, her gaze met his, and Griff registered the amusement glimmering in those dark depths.

  He reluctantly acknowledged the partner. “Bridges.”

  The man gave a curt nod. “Griffin.”

  He returned his attention to Hanna. “You are a vision this evening.”

  “I see some physicians that I know,” Bridges said abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me. Unless you have need of me?”

  “Not at all.” She withdrew her hand from his arm. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Once he was gone, Griff said, “You look ravishing.”

  She blushed becomingly. “It’s a borrowed gown. I had nothing suitable.”

  “Blue becomes you. As does silk.”

  “I don’t have much use for silk when I’m tugging on people’s limbs.” Her full lips quirked. “But it does help me feel less out of place at the moment.”

  “You seem very at home among these people. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume that you are accustomed to balls and ball gowns.”

  “But I am not,” she said simply. “And I do not aspire to be.”

  “Are you rejecting me before I’ve even made my advance?”

  “Stop jesting,” she admonished, looking past him to the guests. “I am here. What do we do now?”

  He could think of a million things he’d rather do with Hanna than subject her to the people in this room. But he offered his arm. “Now we circulate. I introduce you and tell everyone how you cured me.”

  “Will it make any difference?”

  “Viscount Payton’s allies will align with him. As I am rarely in society, I don’t have a great many allies. Payton is much more firmly established in London. But at least you have a viscount suspected of murder on your side.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “And I cannot deny that I purposely did violence to Mansfield’s wrist. We make quite a team, you and I.”

  He grinned. “Quite.” He liked the sound of that, the idea of them as a team. Her lemony perfume filled his nostrils. He was supremely aware of her warmth beside him, the proximity of her body. The delicious memory of his mouth at her breast, of bringing her off, assailed him.

  “Griff?”

  He shook the delightful images from his head. They had a job to do. “Brace yourself. Here we go.”

  “You are completely free of pain now?” asked one of the commission members. Hanna couldn’t remember his name. The evening was a whirlwind with Griff escorting her from group to group, making introductions to the people who would ultimately decide her professional fate.

  “Absolutely.” Griff demonstrated, lifting his arm and waving it about—as much as his evening clothes would allow—for about the tenth time this evening. But Hanna never tired of watching him move his athletic form. He was even more appealing than usual in his navy evening clothes and pristine white cravat.

  People listened when Griff spoke. For a man who rarely moved in society, he effortlessly exerted his influence. Wielding his power seemed to come as easily as walking or talking.

  Hanna knew of course that nobles had power, but she’d never truly seen Griff exercise his until this evening. And it was on her behalf. No one dared cut her or treat her shabbily when she was on the arm of their formidable host. Even Dr. Pratt was polite, although it clearly was an effort for him.

  “You are doing wonderfully,” Griff murmured as he led her to the next group, the intoxicating scent of his shaving soap flowing over her.

  “Are you certain? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

  “Both.” His eyes twinkled. “But, in all seriousness, you answered their questions calmly and thoroughly. By the end of the evening, they shall be eating out of your hand.”

  “Luckily, no one has directly asked if I put out Mansfield’s wrist on purpose.”

  “That is fortunate.” He guided her through the door and into an alcove between two adjoining public rooms. “The evening has been a success.”

  They paused in the shadow of the narrow passage between the two rooms. “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “I want you to myself for just a moment.”

  “Here? Now?” They were just a few feet out of view. Anyone walking from one room to the other would see them.

  His eyes twinkled. “As much as I’d like to ravish you right here and now,” he murmured close to her ear, “I will force myself to exert some self-control.”

  She shivered at the feel of his sweetly humid breath against her cheek. “Ah, but will I?”

  Banked desire shone in his eyes. “If only we could slip away unnoticed.”

  Evan appeared in the narrow passage between the two chambers, searching left and right until he spotted them. “There you are, Hanna.” He ran a hostile gaze over Griff. “I was worried about you.”

  Griff stiffened beside her. “She is in good hands.”

  “Is she?” Evan asked. “There are those who wonder whether she is safe in the company of a man with your history. I am one of them.”

  “So. It was you.” Griff gave a cold huff of laughter. “No doubt you rushed to tell Hanna all about the rumors.”

  Evan jutted his chest out. “She deserves to know the truth about you.”

  “She does, indeed,” Griff replied. “But I doubt your intentions are pure.”

  “They are purer than yours.” The two men stared at each other like pugilists in the ring.

  “This is ridiculous.” Hanna moved around Evan to rejoin the guests in the next room. “I am not a piece of meat to be fought over.”

  “I agree.” Griff accompanied her. “Let us get back to the commission members, shall we?”

  Evan followed. “You think you can turn her head with your money, your power, your influence.” His raised voice drew the attention of nearby guests.

  Hanna’s cheeks were on fire. “Evan,” she warned under her breath, “this is not the place.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Griff retorted. “You are jealous because I am a viscount? Must I remind you that I am trying to use whatever influence I have to help Hanna?”

  “To help Hanna.” Evan’s words were rich with sarcasm. “More like help yourself to Hanna.”

  “Evan,” Hanna said quietly as more guests paused to watch the men. “Stop this.”

  “It’s not that you are a viscount that bothers me,” Evan continued. “It’s the fact that you killed your parents, and everyone in this room knows it.”

  Griff froze. All color drained from his face.

  A collective gasp came from the assembled guests. The room fell silent.

  “Evan!” Hanna’s shocked voice rang through the silence. Griff’s complexion turned an unnatural shade of gray.

  “What?” Evan flushed. “It’s the truth. Everybody else here believes it but is afraid to say the words out loud. The hypocrisy makes me ill. Because Griffin is a noble, he not only gets away with murder, but he continues to be accepted, celebrated even, in society.”

  “Lord Griffin did not kill his parents,” a firm female voice called out. “I know because he was with me the evening they died.”

  Hanna’s head whipped around to stare at Lady Winters. Griff’s Selina stepped forward, her color high, her shoulders pulled back.

  “Selina, what are you saying?” gasped a woman who resembled an older version of Lady Winters.

  That seemed to shake Griff out of his trancelike state. “Selina.” He spoke sharply. “Don’t.”

  “No, Griff.” Lady Winters’s gaze met Griff’s. An unspoken conversation seemed to rage between them. “I will not allow you to continue to suffer. Not when I alone can prove your innocence.”

  “What are you saying?” The older version of Lady Winters,
presumably her mother, flicked open her fan and fluttered it before her face.

  “I met Griff that night. He stayed with me until sunrise so he could not have killed his parents. The reason Lord Griffin didn’t hear the murders is because he wasn’t home when it happened.”

  “She’s lying.” Griff’s harsh voice rang out.

  “I am not,” Lady Winters countered even more strongly. “We both remained silent about Lord Griffin’s whereabouts that evening in order to protect my honor. I’ve let him suffer horribly to save myself. But I am no longer a girl. It is past time that I spoke the truth. My honor be damned.”

  “Oh my.” Lady Winters’s mother swayed. “I don’t feel well.”

  The whispers, the excited murmurs that inevitably accompanied fresh gossip, filled the room. Word of the scandal would blanket London by morning.

  Lady Winters hurried to her mother’s side. “Come now, Mama. Let’s find you a place to sit.”

  Griff gestured to the nearest footman. “Bring water for the lady.” He crossed over to assist the older woman, taking hold of one arm while Lady Winters had the other. Together, they ushered the older woman from the room.

  Hanna stared after them, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  Evan touched her elbow. “Let me see you home.”

  “No.” Hanna jerked her arm away. “You’ve done enough for one evening.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hanna lingered in the front hall of Haven House.

  Around her, guests departed in a quiet flurry, bustling out the door in hushed whispers. She stood with one hand holding the elbow of her opposite arm. She tried not to fidget despite wanting nothing more than to escape Griff and his lies. And his snobbish butler.

  But she was stuck.

  Once again, her temper had gotten the better of her. She’d sent Evan away in a pique of anger, and now she had no way to get home. She could hardly walk home alone at this time of night. Particularly not in Leela’s fine silk gown. And summoning a hackney, much less traveling home alone in one, was entirely unsafe.