by Clee, Adele
“As the eldest son, I can do as I damn well please. What’s wrong, Justin? Afraid my father might change his will?”
Saliva bubbled between the fop’s lips as he attempted to control his temper. “Tell him, Selina. Tell him we’ll not allow him to ride roughshod over us, to undermine our authority.”
Selina batted her lashes and fixed a hungry gaze on Hudson. “There’s no need for hostility. We can all work together to serve your father’s needs.” Her sibilant voice slipped across the room like teasing fingers eager to stroke Hudson Lockhart into submission.
“Drugging him is hardly serving his needs,” Hudson countered, seemingly unaffected by her womanly wiles.
Numerous times, Dr Hewlett tried to ignore the hullabaloo and focus on the patient, but the argument proved distracting.
“Perhaps we should leave the doctor to his work,” Claudia suggested. “Complaining is helping no one.”
Justin screwed up his nose as if he’d suddenly caught a whiff of a foul stench. “This has nothing to do with you, so I suggest you remain silent.”
A growl resonated in Hudson’s throat. He marched around the bed, ready to throttle his cousin. Justin stumbled back, his hands outstretched in protest, but Hudson grabbed him by his fancy collar and dragged him to the door.
“Speak to my wife like that again, and you’ll be chewing on broken teeth.” Hudson opened the door and threw his cousin out. He ignored the man’s prattling and turned to Selina. “We will attend my father. Good day, Selina.”
Selina flung sharp daggers Claudia’s way. She snatched her pelisse from the chair and swept from the room.
Hudson closed the door and muttered a curse before turning to Dr Hewlett. “My wife is right. No man can work under such stressful conditions. Please, Dr Hewlett, I would be grateful if you would examine my father.”
Dr Hewlett nodded.
While the doctor retrieved various instruments from his leather case, Hudson drew Claudia to the opposite end of the room.
“What if this is all my fault?” he whispered, guilt evident as he brushed his hand through his mop of dark hair. “My father’s condition worsened a month ago. Perhaps Greystone’s return brought painful memories flooding back, caused some mysterious malaise.” A weary sigh breezed from his lips. “I should have remained in India. Heaven knows I wanted to.”
“Then why come home?” She touched his forearm, found that it wasn’t enough to ease her craving and so touched his upper arm in a soothing caress.
“It was always Greystone’s plan to seek retribution. The same was true for Drake. Sometimes the need for vengeance is too powerful to resist.” His brown eyes grew distant. “And the thought of being alone had little appeal.”
“What is it you seek, Hudson, vengeance or the truth?”
Hudson shrugged. “Maybe both. Maybe neither.” His weary sigh tore at her heart. “I want peace, peace to live my life without feeling the sharp stab of betrayal. I want the peace that comes with knowing who I can trust.”
She slid her hand up over his shoulder to cup his cheek. “Trust yourself. Love yourself. Forgive yourself. Don’t let your happiness be dependent on what others say or do.”
That was a sure road to misery and failure.
Moisture formed in his eyes as he stared at her. He captured her hand and kissed her tenderly on the palm. “Dariell was right.”
“Right about what?”
“You’re perfect—”
“Perfect?” she interjected, scared of what he might say. “Perfect to play the wife of a rogue? Perfect when it comes to challenging your opinion?”
He shook his head. “Just perfect.”
The air between them thrummed with energy. It was all Claudia could do not to kiss him.
A groan from the bed sent all amorous thoughts scattering.
“The effects of the laudanum are wearing off,” Dr Hewlett said. His comment drew Claudia and Hudson back to the bed. “I advise we wait before administering any medicine, and certainly anything contained in these bottles.” He gestured to the assortment on the side table.
“I spoke to the apothecary who dispensed them.” Hudson related the extent of his conversation with a man named Mr Wolfson.
“Do you think that’s the reason your father isn’t getting better?” Claudia said. What other reason could Terence have for requesting essence of peppermint instead of cough suppressant?
“We’ll know more once we wean the gentleman off laudanum.”
“Wean him off?” Hudson frowned. “But that can take days. And I’ve heard enough horror stories to enquire as to your meaning.”
Dr Hewlett arched a brow. “I’m not talking scalding baths and mustard plasters if that is your fear. I shall monitor him tonight and make a more definitive decision then.”
“So you will stay?”
The doctor nodded. “For the next eight hours at least.”
“Eight hours is all we may have,” Hudson said gravely. “You must do what you can before my cousin returns tomorrow.”
Claudia glanced at the frail figure in the bed. What if there was nothing wrong with the man other than a lack of food and fresh air?
While contemplating that thought, she was drawn to a black mark on the coverlet. She stepped closer to examine the stain.
“Is something wrong?” Hudson asked.
“This mark on the coverlet, what does it look like to you?” She dabbed the strange blotch with the tip of her finger.
Hudson studied the mark for a moment. “It looks like ink.”
“It wasn’t there the last time we called, and the maid hasn’t changed the bedding.”
“It’s dry.” Hudson looked up and met her gaze. “You think it’s relevant?”
“I don’t know. But it is odd.”
“Indeed.” After scouring the room and finding nothing to account for the stain, Hudson turned to the doctor. “We shall return later tonight on our way home. I’ll inform Simmonds to expect us around midnight.”
Claudia frowned. “On our way home?”
Surely he wasn’t planning another trip to Falaura Glen. Lord knows what wonders Dariell had created in their absence. The image of the rotunda flashed into her mind, swiftly followed by the image of a bare chest and the wickedly handsome face of Hudson Lockhart.
“Are we going somewhere?” Claudia asked, desire pulsing in her veins.
“We’re going out.” Hudson smiled. “Did I not promise you a trip to the theatre?”
Chapter Seventeen
“You might have given us more notice,” Drake complained as he tugged the sleeves of his black evening coat and settled into the padded velvet chair in Greystone’s box. “I hate plays almost as much as I hate masquerades.”
“Oh, but this is the first time you’ve brought me to the theatre.” Juliet touched his arm, and the giant softened.
“Then I shall sit quietly,” Drake conceded, “for you must concentrate if you intend to follow this one. It’s a farce made to muddle a man’s mind.”
“That doesn’t mean it will muddle a woman’s mind,” Juliet countered.
Valentine chuckled. “Then you should come to the theatre more often, Drake. Perhaps there’s a play about a man who converses with dogs.”
Drake smirked. “I’d be more interested in one where a wild monkey attacks the patrons.”
Greystone laughed.
“I know how you hate large crowds, Drake. I had but a few hours’ notice myself,” Lockhart explained by way of an apology. He drew out the chair for Claudia and waited for her to sit before dropping into the seat next to her. She wore a sumptuous burgundy gown, another splendid creation that drew his gaze to the soft swell of her breasts.
He had deliberately chosen seats at the rear of the box, behind Devlin Drake. With such a large crowd, it afforded him the privacy to observe the horde unnoticed. The gossips were just as interested in his friends, and so he hoped he might shrink into the shadows.
“I presume you’re
going to tell us why we’re here,” Greystone enquired, though he kept his gaze fixed centre stage.
“I need you to locate Terence and inform me when he leaves the auditorium.” Lockhart had more than a few questions for his brother. He refused to call on Terence while Selina was at home. And having not seen him since the masquerade, he couldn’t help but think his brother was avoiding a second meeting.
Aveline gripped the ivory handle of her opera glasses and studied those in the private boxes opposite. “Oh, Lucius, I see Honora with Mrs Madeley.”
“Damnation,” Valentine muttered. “Now my mother will want to know why we didn’t tell her we were coming.”
Greystone borrowed Lydia’s glasses and observed the crowd. “What makes you think Terence is here tonight?”
“Selina said they were coming. Apparently, it is Mr Maverick’s final performance.” Then again, she had made no mention of Terence attending. “Justin should be here.”
During the first act, Greystone continued to scan the sea of heads. Lockhart sat silently with his thoughts. Whenever he felt a spark of anger at both his and his father’s mistreatment, he took hold of Claudia’s hand and stroked her palm. She wasn’t particularly interested in the play, either, and they spent more time looking at each other than the fools on stage.
“I’ve found your cousin,” Greystone said, looking to the middle tier and to the left of the plush boxes. “He’s sitting with Selina, but Terence isn’t with them.” Without warning, a muttered curse burst from Greystone’s lips, and he almost dropped the glasses. “Damnation.”
“What is it?” Panic rose in Lockhart’s chest.
“I locked gazes with Selina. She’s watching me through her glasses.”
“Let me see.” Lydia took the glasses and stared into the crowd. “Yes, she is most definitely watching this box.”
What was Selina’s problem? Was it dissatisfaction with her husband? Was it guilt for abandoning Lockhart on the docks? Was it fear? Perhaps when it came to caring for his father, she was the villain, not the nurse.
Lockhart pondered those thoughts during the second act until a comment made by the character Dromio disturbed his reverie.
Every why hath a wherefore.
The words tormented him. There was a reason someone had framed him for murder. He just couldn’t see it. There was a reason Terence had married Selina. He just needed to ask his brother to learn the answer.
“Wait,” Greystone whispered. “I see him. I see Terence.”
It seems the Divine had heard Lockhart’s musings and extended a helping hand.
“He’s in Mrs Fanshaw’s box and looks remarkably relaxed. The woman can’t take her eyes off him.”
“Mrs Fanshaw?” Lockhart grimaced. “The woman is old enough to be his mother.”
“Some men are happy to overlook the age difference when weighted against her yearly income,” Aveline said. “She’s had endless suitors these last few years. Most of them riddled with debt.” When Valentine stared at his wife and arched a brow, she said, “What? Lady Cartwright told me. The matron prefers gossip to examining literary texts.”
Lockhart contemplated the information.
Was Terence in financial trouble? His brother had a fondness for the card tables. Was he simply hoping their father would die so he could get his hands on his inheritance? Lockhart suppressed a gasp when another thought struck him. Had the fiend at the inn mistaken Lockhart for Terence? The rogue had come looking for money. Had Terence set the trap?
Anger burned in Lockhart’s veins.
Every why hath a wherefore.
And he’d damn well learn the truth before the week was out.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Lockhart pushed to his feet. He bent down and kissed Claudia on the forehead. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “To speak to Terence.”
She grabbed his arm. “Please be careful.” Fear danced in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”
Valentine glanced in their direction. His knowing smirk mirrored Drake’s wide grin.
“My friends will keep you company until I return.” Lockhart looked into her eyes. Despite it not being written in the stage directions, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips and exited the box.
Something told him he was getting closer to the truth. The thought drew him along the corridor, towards the grand staircase. He would knock on Mrs Fanshaw’s box and demand answers.
As he moved past the impressive chandelier hanging from the domed roof, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
“Hudson. Wait. I must talk to you.”
He would know Selina Lockhart’s voice anywhere. Not because it stirred fond memories but because it grated.
“What do you want, Selina?” He moved to walk past, but she grabbed his arm.
“Just a few minutes of your time. If you ever cared for me at all, surely you can spare me that. It’s about Terence.”
Perhaps he had cared for her once. Not in the way he cared for Claudia. And he considered the possibility that she might have useful information.
“Five minutes,” he said reluctantly, before offering a weary sigh. “Five minutes. That is all.”
A smile formed on her lips. It was the first time he’d seen a glimmer of happiness since his return. “Come,” she said. “We might have some privacy in the saloon.”
Selina hovered at his side. If she expected him to offer his arm, she was mistaken. He strode off in front, past two Grecian statues standing guard in the alcoves. Their coy expressions made him doubt his decision.
They slipped into the room occupied by men lighting candles and polishing glasses, men waiting to serve those who came to gorge on food and drink when they’d grown bored with the play. A few stragglers were already sitting around a table at the end of the long room.
“Perhaps you might start by telling me why Terence is enjoying the play from the luxury of Mrs Fanshaw’s box.” Lockhart drew Selina towards the window. The saloon’s intimate setting, with its red flock wallpaper and gleaming gilt sconces, added an illicit air to this secret conversation that did not sit well with him.
“Why do you think?” Selina replied evasively.
Lockhart shrugged. “He’s your husband. I imagine you might have something to say regarding the fact Mrs Fanshaw is hanging on his every word.”
“Terence has never been a faithful husband.”
So why the hell had he married her? For propriety’s sake? Perhaps Terence despised him and marrying Selina brought an element of satisfaction.
“Do you love him?” How she answered would prove telling.
Her eyes brightened. “I love you. I have always loved you.”
Ballocks!
Claudia Darling would have slipped her hand into his at the docks, would have walked the gangplank and never looked back.
“Then what a shame you lacked the courage of your convictions. That said, your loss proved to be my gain.”
“Your gain?” She jerked her chin in the air. “Oh, you’re referring to your obedient little wife.”
“You don’t know what love is, Selina.” Claudia’s sweet face flashed into Lockhart’s mind. “Thankfully, your selfish actions provided an opportunity for me to experience what trust and devotion truly mean.”
“My selfish actions?” Selina snorted. “I wasn’t the one who ruined everything because I couldn’t control my temper.” She gritted her teeth and muttered, “I wasn’t the one who drove a blade into a man’s heart and was forced to flee.”
A fury to surpass all others, a raging tempest set to clear the room in one fell swoop whirled in his chest. Despite everything Selina knew of him, she still believed he was guilty of committing such a vile atrocity. Bile bubbled in his stomach.
Lockhart snarled. “You cold, heartless—”
“Cold? Perhaps you’re mistaking me for your wife.” Spite dripped from ev
ery word. “She doesn’t love you. Any fool can see that. And you certainly don’t love her.”
The comments threw him. For a second he wondered if they had let their guard slip. Had Selina witnessed a wooden performance, the work of amateurs?
No!
He desired his wife, lusted after her, craved her company. It had nothing to do with stepping into roles and everything to do with the magnificence of the woman in question.
“Make no mistake,” he said, his words dripping with conviction. “I am in love with my wife.”
For all the saints!
He felt the truth of it as soon as the words left his lips.
“I adore her,” he continued. Now he had started he couldn’t stop. “I would lay down my life for her, sail the stormy seas, venture to lands unknown, just for the opportunity to gaze at her face, to hold her hand. So don’t dare presume to know what I think or feel.”
Selina gulped. The veil of arrogance fell, leaving naught but a quivering wreck in its wake. Tears filled her eyes.
“I married Terence for you,” she blurted, shaking visibly. “So you would be free to pursue a new life. And now you’re happy, and my husband is a philanderer, a gambler, a liar and a cheat who would see his father dead to get hold of his inheritance.”
Two men stumbled through the saloon door, laughing and joking. One caught sight of Lockhart and Selina huddled in the corner and gave a knowing wink.
Bloody hell!
He’d not have the gossips spread rumours of infidelity. The story of two brothers fighting over the same woman always proved popular.
“Then it’s time I spoke to Terence and dragged the truth from his lying lips.” Lockhart straightened. He’d wrap his hands around his brother’s throat and squeeze out a confession.
“Wait.” Selina grabbed and tugged at Lockhart’s arm. “He’s not worth the time or the trouble. Oh, Hudson, can’t we begin again? Can’t we go back to that night on the docks?” Selina touched his chest, clawed at his shirt, gripped his cravat. “Can’t you make love to me like you used to?”
Hell’s teeth, the woman knew how to make a scene.
Lockhart captured her hand as her other hand snaked up to tangle in his hair.
