A Gentleman's Curse: Avenging Lords - Book 4

by Clee, Adele

  “Is there a cure for love?” Lockhart wasn’t sure why he’d asked.

  Wolfson chuckled. “That’s called marriage. Three months of nagging and endless women’s talk should see you right again.”

  Miss Darling didn’t nag. And he could listen to her talk for hours.

  Lockhart reached into his pocket and removed three sovereigns. He placed them on the counter. “Can you tell me if you supply a Mr Terence Lockhart with medicine?”

  Wolfson glanced at the coins and then at Lockhart. “Can’t say as I recall the name.”

  “Then permit me to prompt your memory.” Lockhart removed another sovereign and added it to the pile. “He purchases laudanum in large quantities, cough suppressant and a range of other medicines without labels.”

  Wolfson frowned. “All the medicines sold here come with a full list of ingredients.”

  “I’m sure they do.” Perhaps Terence removed the labels. Perhaps Justin and Selina had administered the wrong medication. Lockhart added two more sovereigns to the pile. “Terence Lockhart. I want to know what he purchased.”

  Wolfson licked his lips and stared at the coins as if admiring a huge chunk of meat pie. “Lockhart, you say.”

  “He looks like me but lacks my charm.”

  “He lacks your generous nature, too.”

  “Then you remember him?”

  “A man doesn’t forget the weird ones.”

  “Weird?”

  “He orders laudanum, of course. The rest, well …” Wolfson flicked his gaze back to the coins.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Lockhart said, adding another coin. “That’s the last. So spill your guts unless you want me to spill them for you.” He flashed the shopkeeper a look menacing enough to send the wolf scampering back to his underground den.

  The man shuddered. “The cough suppressant, the invigorant, the fever tonic, they’re labelled although there’s nothing but castor oil, lavender or essence of peppermint in the bottles.”

  Lockhart slammed his hand on the counter. “You’re charging for medicine when you know the contents will do nothing other than act as a relaxant?” And perhaps cause flatulence, which accounted for the sickly concoction of smells lingering in his father’s room.

  “At Mr Lockhart’s insistence.”

  Why would Terence buy medicine knowing it would have little effect? Perhaps Terence didn’t want their father to recover. Perhaps he didn’t trust Justin to administer the required dose.

  “Of course, the other fellow demanded something stronger.”

  Lockhart frowned. “The other fellow?”

  Mr Wolfson flashed a greedy grin.

  “You’ll not get another damn penny,” Lockhart hissed through gritted teeth. “What other fellow?”

  Wolfson shrugged. “A right old dandy with an upturned nose and a fancy green coat. Came in here complaining about the quality of the laudanum. Demanded I use less alcohol in the tincture. He wouldn’t leave until I’d prepared two bottles.”

  Justin Perigrew.

  So his cousin was determined to keep Alfred Lockhart in a drug-induced state.

  “Take the money,” Lockhart said. He watched Wolfson slap his hand over the coins and slide them off the counter. “You’ve been most helpful.”

  Lockhart left the apothecary shop feeling more confused than when he’d entered. He wished Claudia had accompanied him. Her insight proved invaluable, and she addressed matters from a logical viewpoint rather than one tainted with the need for vengeance.

  As he strode towards his carriage, he hoped to find her spirits recovered. What he found upon yanking open the door was that the carriage was empty.

  Claudia Darling had disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The shop’s doorbell tinkled, drawing the curious gazes of two people examining the watercolours lining one wall. Another group was engrossed in surveying the row of pens until the woman slapped the child’s hand when the boy insisted on tickling his sister with the feather of a quill.

  Claudia scanned the items for sale, wondering what on earth had brought Mr Thorncroft to town and what had held his interest in the stationer’s shop. The man liked writing letters—or contracts to be more precise. Perhaps it was the only place one might purchase an ink pot full of blood. Blood to represent the signing away of one’s soul. Blood to represent a sinister deal with a devil.

  Gathering her courage, Claudia approached the middle-aged woman behind the counter. “Forgive me, I am to meet my brother here, but I fear I’ve spent too long in the bookshop. Please tell me I haven’t missed him.” Heavens, Claudia’s acting skills grew better by the day. “He’s a rather dour looking fellow with sallow skin. But don’t tell him I said that.”

  The woman scanned Claudia’s clothes. The ones made purely for the purposes of deception. “And you’re to meet him in this shop?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Did he have business upstairs?”

  Upstairs? That threw her somewhat.

  From the woman’s cautious tone and shifty eyes, whatever happened upstairs was neither legal nor moral. Perhaps she ran a bordello. A bordello masquerading as a stationery shop? Hardly.

  But how was she to find out information without rousing suspicion or looking like a fool?

  “My brother, Mr Thorncroft, has business of a delicate nature. He simply told me to meet him here.” Perhaps he had come merely to buy sealing wax and a ream of paper. Then again, he looked to have left empty-handed. “Writing is his pastime if you take my meaning.”

  Claudia’s arched brow and suggestive nod seemed to influence the woman.

  “Then he’ll have been to see Mr Higson.”

  “Mr Higson?”

  “He’s an expert when it comes to the written word.”

  The tinkle of the shop’s doorbell forced Claudia to glance back over her shoulder.

  The blood drained from her face as she locked gazes with Hudson Lockhart, whose broad shoulders blocked the doorway. He looked like he’d escaped a violent storm—flustered, breathless, scared. Fear quickly turned to barely contained rage. Indeed, he looked ready to throttle the first man foolish enough to raise a complaint.

  Claudia turned back to the assistant. “Oh, it seems my brother has arrived.”

  Why on earth had she said that?

  Hudson Lockhart had the bronzed skin of Adonis, and while he looked furious, there was nothing grim about his alluring countenance.

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. She leant over the counter and whispered, “Then you’ve no need to come here again. No need to come prying.”

  Claudia swallowed past the lump in her throat.

  Before the assistant skirted around the counter and chased her out of the door, Claudia turned on her heel and marched to meet the brooding devil waiting to rain fire and brimstone.

  “I told you to wait in the carriage.” Hudson stepped back for her to pass. “Can you imagine what went through my mind when I returned to find you missing?”

  He strode over to the carriage door, yanked it open and more or less ordered her inside.

  Now was not the time to argue, or demand he treat her as a loving wife and not the hired help.

  Claudia settled into the seat, pursed her lips and waited until the carriage was rumbling along the road before saying, “Forgive me. I did not mean to cause you distress.”

  Dark, dangerous eyes stared back at her. “Perhaps you forgot that I’m a man who has been framed for murder. Perhaps you forgot that I promised to ensure your safety.”

  “No,” she said, feeling the sudden urge to defend her position, “I did not forget.”

  “Then what prompted you to leave the carriage?” he growled. “What prompted you to enter that shop knowing someone from Flamstead had left a few minutes earlier?” He threw his hands in the air. “Hell, you insisted on remaining in the carriage because you were afraid to be seen.”

  What was she supposed to say? That she had been using Hudson so she didn�
�t have to marry a wicked devil? That she suspected the wicked devil was guilty of some form of deception, too?

  “I realised I was mistaken.”

  Hudson sat forward. “That’s a lie.”

  The comment hurt even though it was the truth. Deflection seemed the only way out of this mess. “You would know about lies, Hudson. Why didn’t you tell me I was your second choice for a wife? Why didn’t you tell me I was the inferior model, the one used because you grew desperate?”

  A deathly silence descended.

  For a moment, he merely gaped.

  The tension in the air dissipated, the atmosphere growing sombre.

  “You’re far from the inferior model,” he said so quietly she had to strain to listen. “After what happened between us in the rotunda, I thought you knew that.”

  Claudia swallowed down her guilt. “But I was the second choice?”

  “Originally, I hired an actress to play the role, but Dariell insisted it was a sure road to failure.”

  “You hired an actress?” Perhaps he’d wanted a professional to help him solve his problem, a professional to please him in bed. “Why? To avoid emotional complications?”

  He sighed. Sadness swam in his brown eyes. “Because I didn’t know who else to ask, who to trust.”

  Having learnt more about the situation, she wondered if his only reason for wanting a wife was to prove a point to Selina. By his own admission, he’d been struck from his father’s will. What need had he for pretending she was with child other than to annoy his brother? Other than to hurt the woman who’d left him alone on the docks. Where were the threats he warned her about, the attacks from his family?

  Claudia’s heart ached to ease his pain. But she could not rid herself of the crippling doubts inside. “I don’t think you’ve come back for vengeance,” she said. “I think you want the truth. And I am not speaking about the murder. You want to know what motivated Selina to marry your brother. You want to prove no one is worthy of your trust.”

  He flopped back in the seat. “I want to know who despises me to the extent they would ruin my life.”

  “Is it ruined?” If she focused on the negative aspects of her life, she might feel the same. “Are your friends not as close as brothers? Have you not amassed a great fortune that means you no longer need to crawl and beg to your parents? Have your experiences blackened your soul? No! You’re a good man, Hudson, a good man who happens to be related to selfish people.”

  He remained silent.

  “Promise me one thing,” she urged.

  “That depends what it is.”

  “Promise me, once we discover the truth you will lay the ghosts of the past to rest. Promise me, you will live your life without regret, without a heavy heart.”

  He studied her through narrowed eyes. “You still want to help me despite playing the understudy to an actress?”

  “As you said, I am far from the understudy. I just wish you’d told me the truth in the beginning.” It wouldn’t have stopped her accepting his offer, but she might have had more realistic expectations. The word hypocrite rang loud and clear in her ears. Perhaps his expectations might have been different, too, had he known the real reason she’d accepted. “Based on my performance, every theatre owner in the country would scramble to hire me.”

  The last comment was said in jest to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

  “Is everything part of the performance?” he said tersely.

  Shocked that he could even ask the question, she said, “After what happened between us in the rotunda, I’m surprised you need to ask.”

  They continued the rest of their journey in silence.

  When they arrived in Berwick Street, Claudia was somewhat glad they were meeting Dr Hewlett. The hours spent trying to solve this mystery would detract from the confounding thoughts filling her head.

  Hudson dragged out his pocket watch and studied the time. “We’ll wait here until the doctor arrives.” His voice still sounded strained.

  “You fear Simmonds will turn him away?” she said in an even tone for they could not continue like this.

  “Mother will begrudge the expense.”

  “Even when the man might help save her husband?” Claudia would sell everything she owned to help Emily. She would sell everything she owned to help Hudson Lockhart, too.

  “My father’s illness gives her something to complain about.”

  “Some people thrive on drama,” she agreed.

  The atmosphere settled, and they sat in companionable silence while awaiting the doctor.

  Dr Hewlett arrived fifteen minutes late. He scurried down the road clutching his leather case in one hand while holding on to his top hat with the other.

  Hudson opened the carriage door and vaulted to the pavement. He held out his hand to her and Claudia slipped her palm into his. Touching him seemed to drain all previous stresses away. He inhaled deeply, evidently feeling the power of their connection, too.

  “Forgive me,” Dr Hewlett said as he came to a crashing halt and fought to catch his breath. “My last patient has a terrible addiction.”

  “To laudanum or gin?” Hudson asked.

  “To talking,” Dr Hewlett said with a chuckle.

  “Well, you’ll not have that problem here.” Hudson glanced at an upper window. “For some reason, they’re keeping my father sedated.” He straightened. “Come, let’s not talk of it here. You should examine the patient yourself.”

  Dr Hewlett gestured for Hudson to lead the way.

  Simmonds opened the door and stepped back for them to enter the hall. No sooner had he closed the door than the dreadful din in the drawing room began.

  “Who is it, Simmonds?” Hester Lockhart screeched the butler’s name when he failed to reply. “Answer me, man. Simmonds? Simmonds? If it’s the deserter, book him passage on the next boat sailing to India.”

  The butler inclined his head. “Excuse me, sir. I must attend to the mistress.” Simmonds plodded to the drawing room and squared his slumped shoulders before entering.

  Dr Hewlett’s anxious eyes flitted back and forth in their sockets.

  “Have no fear, doctor,” Hudson said without a hint of embarrassment. “My mother is a heartless harpy, but it is a truth to which I am reconciled.” He gestured to the stairs. “Permit me to lead the way.”

  As they mounted the stairs amid the abusive complaints and infernal noise echoing from the drawing room, Claudia wondered which family member was attending Alfred Lockhart. While Selina had implied that Hudson might find her alone if he called at noon, it proved somewhat of a surprise to find both Selina and Mr Perigrew huddled together, deep in conversation.

  Selina practically jumped out of her skin when they entered. Claudia stared, convinced the couple had been holding hands. Selina took one look at the doctor and her face blanched.

  “It must be my father’s lucky day,” Hudson said, ushering Claudia and the doctor into the room and closing the door. “What a pleasure to have both of his devoted relatives at his bedside.”

  “I arrived ten minutes ago.” Justin tugged at the sleeves of his maroon coat and gave a mocking snort. “I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here, surprised my aunt permitted another visit.”

  “Your aunt is a foolish woman with no power over me,” Hudson retorted. He glanced at his father’s sunken cheeks as he lay asleep in the bed. “Dr Hewlett has come to examine the patient.”

  “Then I’m afraid I must object,” Justin snapped, though his tone lacked conviction. “How do we know this fellow is a doctor? How do we know you’re not going to drag the poor man from his bed and commit him to an asylum?”

  Dr Hewlett placed his leather case carefully on the bed. “I was apprenticed to Mr Bartholomew Hunt at Guy’s Hospital for five years. I am a Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries and as such am qualified to attend this patient.”

  Justin’s jaw quivered, and he snapped his mouth shut.

  Selina move
d closer to the bed. “As you can see from the assortment of bottles on the side table, doctor, my husband has tried many things to cure his father’s ailments.” The raven-haired beauty locked eyes with Hudson and moistened her lips.

  Jealousy roiled in Claudia’s stomach.

  Dr Hewlett moved to examine the bottles. His nose twitched, and his brows wiggled as he sniffed and tried to determine the ingredients. “Remind me of the gentleman’s symptoms.”

  Selina repeated the list of ailments.

  “And he’s often delirious,” Justin added, gesticulating his frustration with a dandified wave. “Says ridiculous things during bouts of paranoia.”

  Dr Hewlett turned to Hudson. “That could be attributed to the excessive use of laudanum.”

  “It’s not,” Justin protested, shaking his head so vigorously a lock of golden hair flopped over his brow. “He’s been like that for years. Muttering and mumbling to himself like an imbecile. All poppycock, of course.” He approached Selina and placed a comforting hand on her back. “I honestly don’t know how we’ve coped.”

  The lady shuffled uncomfortably, and a blush stained her cheeks. When Justin failed to move his hand, she edged left, forcing his arm to flop to his side as limp as a fish.

  “It has been a terrible strain that has impacted our lives to an immeasurable degree,” Selina said, somewhat desperate to incite pity. It did not stop her eyes widening as she feasted on the breadth of Hudson’s chest.

  Justin nodded. “We’re at the theatre tonight for the first time in months.”

  Selina squirmed. “Only because it’s the last time Mr Maverick is to play Solinus in The Comedy of Errors.”

  With tales of wild mishaps, mistaken identities, madness and infidelity, perhaps the Lockhart family found similarities to their own lives while watching the play.

  “But I intend to return after supper,” Selina added.

  “There is no need,” Hudson said. “Dr Hewlett will remain here tonight.”

  Thankfully, the doctor made no objection.

  “That’s outrageous.” Justin’s cheeks ballooned. “You cannot come home, storm in here and expect to take over.”