The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

Hanna pored over Baba’s files, going through them page by page.

She was about halfway through them. The dispensary kept her busy most of the time, but she appreciated having this distraction between patients. Anything to fill the hole where Griff used to be. The ache that wouldn’t go away. In the four days since the fundraiser debacle, she’d done whatever she could to keep her mind off him.

“You’re still going through those old files?” Evan’s tall, thin form filled the threshold. “Whatever for? I thought you were done with Griffin.”

“Griff and I have concluded our association,” she said coolly. “Not that that is any of your business.”

“When are you going to stop punishing me? You barely speak to me unless it is about dispensary matters.”

“When am I going to stop being angry at the scene you caused at the fundraiser? Probably never.”

“I just said what everyone else there was thinking.”

“But you were wrong, weren’t you?” she said hotly. “You must be disappointed Griff isn’t a killer.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re angry because I inadvertently exposed his dishonorable behavior with Lady Winters? I should think you’d thank me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“He was toying with you. Hanging around here. Flattering you. Gifting you with flowers. We both know men and women of that class don’t have honorable intentions toward people like us.”

“We had mutual business, and we became friends. There was nothing between us beyond that. For you to suggest otherwise is an insult.”

He held up his hands in self-defense. “It’s not your motives and actions that I find suspect.” He gestured to the files. “Why are those still of interest to you?”

“I need to find out where the stolen jewelry came from. Dr. Pratt is already spreading rumors that Papa was a fence. I won’t allow him to destroy my father’s name when he isn’t here to defend himself.”

“Are you certain that’s all it is?”

She gave him a sharp look. “Evan, you are my business partner, not my keeper. I am not required to explain myself to you.”

“I am not your keeper, but I am your friend. I hope we are still friends. I apologize for anything I’ve done to upset you. I had only your best interests at heart.”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need you to act as my guardian. I’m a woman with a brain that works quite well.”

“I am aware of that. But we are friends, and friends look out for each other. That’s all I was trying to do.”

“I understand that, but I am still angry.” She returned her attention to the ledgers. “Now go away, and let me get through a few more of these before my next patient.”

He turned to go, then paused. “You do know that it is for the best? Class distinctions are there for a reason. Because toffs put them there. It’s how they maintain their sense of superiority.”

She kept her focus on her task. “Griff is gone. I don’t want to discuss this again.” She felt Evan’s eyes on her before he left her alone with the files.

And recent memories she wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

Griff stared out the window. Cavendish Square was a blur in the light rain. The rivulets dotting the glass panes obscured the view.

He hadn’t seen Hanna in five days. But it felt like a hundred. How was it possible to miss someone so much? Naturally, he’d pined for his parents and sisters, but that was a dull ache he’d harbored for so long that it was practically woven into his bones. Hanna was different. He missed her in such a fresh and immediate way that just drawing a breath was painful.

He’d been a loner since his parents died and his sisters vanished, but Griff had never actually felt lonely until now. Even Hunt wasn’t around to distract him. He and his duchess had sailed for Greece more than a week ago. To fill the time, Griff had dined with Norman a couple of evenings ago, but there was a new uneasiness between them.

Selina was really the only other person in London with whom he was well acquainted. But she refused to see him for six weeks. Only then, she said, could they make a rational decision about their future. Not that Griff had anything to decide. He would marry his old friend, seeing through the commitment he’d made at fifteen.

The scandal sheets screamed of their story. Griff didn’t care about that. Society had never held him in high regard. But it was wrong for Selina to suffer when she’d stepped forward to defend him. She might be an earl’s widow, but her position in society remained precarious. Selina came from a good family, but not the best. Nor the most wealthy or powerful.

Griff’s thoughts returned to Hanna, as they often did these days. In addition to missing her, he worried about her. The commission that would determine her future would convene in two days. He knew how much bonesetting meant to her, how much of a loss it would be if Hanna could no longer practice in London.

“My lord.”

Griff turned, surprised to see Wright just inside the door. He hadn’t heard the butler come in. “Yes?”

“There is someone here for you—”

“No.” Griff turned back to the window. He didn’t feel like seeing anyone. “Tell whoever it is that I am not at home to callers.”

“She said it was urgent.”

“She?”His heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t possibly be. He faced the butler. “Who is it?”

“Miss Zaydan.”

“Hanna is here?” He crossed over from the window and strode past Wright. “Where is she?”

The butler followed. “In the front hall, my lord. I can show her in if you’d like to wait here.”

To hell with etiquette. “That won’t be necessary.”

He found her by the staircase staring up at the dancing cherubs adorning the ceiling. “Hanna?”

“Griff.” She looked at him with those large dark eyes that never failed to have an impact on him. She’d been caught in the rain. Her bonnet drooped, and strands of damp hair clung to her cheeks. But even in her bedraggled state, Hanna was captivating.

“Is this about the commission?” he asked.

“What? No.” Radiant, she clutched a ledger in her arms. “I found the name.”

“What name?”

“The man who paid for my father’s services in jewelry. I know his name.”

Griff stilled. “Are you certain?”

She held out the ledger. “It’s all in here.” Her hand quivered. At first he thought it was excitement, but then he realized she was cold.

“You’re trembling.”

“It’s nothing. It started raining, but I didn’t have an umbrella.”

Griff took the ledger and tucked it under his arm. “Let’s get you in front of a fire.”

“Oh no.” Uncertainly filled her face. “I should not stay.”

“It’s chilly and damp outside.” He didn’t want her to go. “Warm up. Show me what you’ve discovered, and then go. I cannot have you falling ill on my account.”

She hesitated. Griff held his breath, fearing she’d decline. “Very well,” she finally said. “Just until I warm up.”

Relief shot through him. Griff gave a crisp nod to the butler. “Please have tea sent in.”

“Yes, my lord. Tea and biscuits?”

“No.” Griff felt lighter than he had in days. “Bring a full tea tray.”

Wright bowed. “Right away, my lord.”

Entering Haven House was like being transported to another world. The study alone was larger than the entire ground floor of Hanna’s terraced home.

She hugged herself as she scanned the room. An imposing carved walnut desk stood at one end. Two sofas and a pair of burgundy velvet chairs flanked the marble fireplace.

“You need to warm up,” Griff said. “Come sit by the fire.”

“His name is Gerard Loder,” she blurted out as she took the stuffed chair closest to the hearth, welcoming its cozy heat. “The man who had your mother’s jewelry came to see Papa just a few months before Papa died.”

“A few months?” He settled his athletic form in the adjacent chair, the seat nearest to her. He wore no cravat. She tried not to stare at his bare throat. Just seeing him warmed her from the inside out. “When did your father die?”

“Just over three years ago. Eleven years after your parents’ deaths. That is why it took so long to find the name. Because we started examining the oldest records first.”

“Have you ever heard of this man?”

“No, but I will ask around to see if anyone in the neighborhood knows him.”

“I’ll engage a runner if necessary to find this Gerard Loder. Suppose he’s the man who—” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. She understood. “It’s entirely possible that he knows nothing about what happened to my parents. He could have bought the pieces from someone who bought them from another person. It might be a dead end.”

“At least it gives us a place to start looking.”

“Us?” Tender admiration filled his steely gaze. How had she ever thought him cold? “I didn’t realize you continued going through the records.”

“I have my own reasons for wanting to know where the jewelry came from. It will clear my father’s name.”

“How so?”

“You told me yourself that that jehish . . . erm . . . Dr. Pratt knows my father was in possession of the stolen jewelry.”

“Sorry? What did you call Dr. Pratt?”

She stared into the fire. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s an Arabic word. It just slipped out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“But you did, so humor me,” he urged.

“It’s very rude.”

“I gathered as much.” She registered the amusement in his voice.

“Very well.” She finally looked up at him. “If you must know, it means mule. As in a creature bred for work rather than intelligence.”

Griff surprised her by laughing out loud. “I’m afraid to ask what you call me when you are angry at me.”

She didn’t dare tell him the words that came to her mind whenever she thought of him.

Hayati. My life.

Elbee. My heart.

Rohee. My soul.

In English, the words sounded far more dramatic than in Arabic. Even so, for her to have any feelings at all for Griff was ridiculous.

But there it was.

Instead she said, “You look well.”

“Returning to society is quite an adjustment, but I am managing. I’ve been inundated with invitations. Now that I’m no longer viewed as a murderer, the ton seems quite eager to return me to the fold.”

“You never deserved society’s censure.”

“Ah, but now that my return is at hand, do I really want it? I’ve been on my own, doing as I please for so long that I’m not sure I want to embrace a life that involves long and boring routs and recitals.”

“You’ve been invited to recitals?”

“Two of them.”

“Musicians of note?”

“Hardly. It seems the thing to have one’s children perform for guests. No matter what the talent level of the performers.”

“Oh.” Her eyes twinkled. “I see.”

A footman came in with the tea tray featuring an expansive spread of sandwiches, breads, cakes and biscuits. The fearsome butler oversaw everything before withdrawing.

Griff picked up a plate. “I hope you are hungry.”

Hanna was amazed by the pretty array. “That’s a great deal of food for two people.”

“You must try one of everything,” Griff instructed, his long fingers reaching for silver tongs to fill her plate. Those fingers had touched her, caressed her, brought her great pleasure. He set the plate down on the table nearest to her. “I insist.”

“Thank you.” Hanna nibbled on a delicious miniature cake, which distracted her from Griff’s hands and what they were capable of. “How extraordinary it must be to have a cook make treats for you all day long.”

“I suppose.” Griff’s careless tone suggested he’d never given much thought to having numerous servants catering to his every whim.

Hanna glanced at the departing footman. This was the life her cousin Delilah must live. But then Leela wasn’t like Hanna and the rest of the Arab cousins. Her father had been a proper English peer, not an immigrant merchant. Leela grew up among people of her father’s ilk, accustomed to having servants tend to her all day long.

Griff reached for a biscuit. “Going through my father’s things has made me wonder.”

“About?” She sank her teeth into an apricot marmalade, her mouth watering around the sweet, chewy concoction.

“The timing of things. My parents and I were not supposed to be in the country the weekend they died. It was June, and Parliament was in session, so naturally we were still in London.”

She paused, confused. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

He smiled, the tiny lines around his steel-blue eyes deepened. “Foolish of me to make assumptions. Because Papa was in the Lords, we were always in London when Parliament met.”

As she took another bite of her apricot marmalade, Hanna marveled at Griff’s casual reference to his proximity to power. She knew titled men of privilege sat in Parliament. But the concept always seemed far removed from her. Like the regent. Or Japan. She knew both existed but never expected to come into actual contact with either of them.

Yet, for Griff, being part of the apparatus that ruled the most powerful country in the world was a normal part of life. Men of his class thought it was their due and didn’t give it a second thought.

He drank his tea. “That weekend, Father spoke of an urgent matter that required his presence at Ashby Manor, our country estate.”

“And this matter couldn’t wait until Parliament was no longer in session?”

“It was early in the month. Parliament was going to stay seated until well into July. Father’s plan was to go to Richmond, deal with the urgent matter and return within a day or two.”

The butler reappeared, trailed by a footman. He fussed with the tea tray, handing off emptied dishes to the footman, who withdrew with them. As he rearranged the remaining platters into a more pleasing grouping, the butler darted a quick glance at Hanna’s plate, the one Griff had overfilled for her. She flushed. Ladies were supposed to eat sparingly. But then Hanna straightened in her chair and bit into a cake. She was not a lady. She was a laboring woman with a healthy appetite.

Griff set his cup down. “Father never said what the urgent matter was. Norman has his suspicions, but I don’t credit them.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “I find that now, more than a dozen years later, I am most eager to know everything about the days leading up to . . . the loss.”

Determined not to be intimidated by the judgmental butler, Hanna reached for a dainty sandwich. “Did you find anything among your father’s papers that might explain why he went to the country that weekend?”

“Unfortunately, not. There were no papers at all.”

The butler cleared his throat.

“None?” Hanna asked. “Not even in his desk?”

“I was disappointed to find the desk emptied out. This is the chamber I associate most closely with Papa, but it’s as if his presence was completely expunged.”

Hanna felt sad for Griff. Going through Baba’s desk after his death had made her feel close to her father. She still felt his presence there. The butler cleared his throat again.

Griff looked at him. “What is it, Wright?”

“About your father’s papers, my lord.”

“Yes, what about them?”

“I took the liberty of sorting through the desk and putting everything away.”

Irritation animated Griff’s face. “Why didn’t you leave Papa’s papers here in his study?”

Hanna was curious to know as well. She didn’t know exactly what a butler did, but scrounging through his dead master’s papers didn’t strike her as one of his duties.

The butler hesitated.

“Well?” Griff prompted.

The butler darted a quick gaze at Hanna.

“You may speak frankly in front of Miss Zaydan.”

The butler still appeared reluctant.

Hanna scooted to the edge of her seat. “Maybe I should go.”

“Nonsense. You haven’t finished your tea.” Griff’s voice was firm. “Out with it, Wright.”

The butler clasped his hands behind his back and stood up even straighter, which Hanna would not have thought possible. “Your guardian showed an interest in going through his lordship’s things.”

“Dr. Pratt did? Why?”

“He said that, as your guardian, it was his right to see if there were any outstanding matters that needed attending to.”

“I thought my father’s solicitor was in charge of those sorts of things.”

The butler practically sniffed. “As did I, my lord. Therefore, I took it upon myself to box up the papers and put them away until the new Lord Griffin, you, came of age.”

Hanna reconsidered her opinion of the butler. The man obviously disdained Dr. Pratt. He couldn’t be entirely awful.

“Where are these papers?” Griff demanded.

“I will have to fetch them, my lord.”

“Can you do it now? I’d like to see if my father wrote anything down in his appointment book.”

“At present, the papers are not in the house, my lord.”

“They’re not?”

“Dr. Pratt was most determined to find the papers. He searched everywhere for them. Mrs. Tanner and I decided it would be prudent to remove them from the premises.”

“To where?”

“They are in Mrs. Tanner’s keeping.”

“My former housekeeper has them?”

The butler nodded. “At the home of Lady Dorcas. We felt that Dr. Pratt could not impose himself there as easily as he could here at Haven House.”

“Who is Lady Dorcas?” Hanna asked.

“My sister,” Griff said. One of the sisters who’d deserted him.

“I shall have Felix go and retrieve them at once,” Wright said. “I hope I have not overstepped, my lord. You are the viscount. Those are your papers. I felt it was my duty to safeguard them for you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Griff said. “But I am certain Dr. Pratt was simply trying to fulfill his duty.”

Hanna wasn’t so certain. What had Dr. Pratt been looking for? She exchanged a glance with the butler. Maybe it was her imagination, but a moment of understanding seemed to flash between them.

The butler picked up a plate of sandwiches. “Another sandwich, miss?”

Hanna beamed up at him. “Maybe just one more.”

And, if she wasn’t mistaken, the butler’s lip quirked into what might, for him anyway, be accounted as a smile.

The following day Griff pored over his father’s papers. Most were ledgers, accountings from the various estates and other business matters. Others were more personal. The paperwork of lives cut short. A note from Mother reminding Father to call on someone who’d been ill. Bills from his mother’s modiste. Copies of marriage agreements for his three sisters.

Griff wondered how Dorcas reacted when Felix went to retrieve Father’s papers from the housekeeper she’d lured from Haven House. His sisters were in Griff’s thoughts a great deal lately, even though he tried not to think of them. They had no interest in him. The retrieval of Father’s papers certainly hadn’t prompted Dorcas to reach out.

Griff flipped through the leather-bound appointment book, through the last few months of his father’s life. Appointments with his tailor and bootmaker. Plans to meet friends at White’s, the gentlemen’s club. An appointment to see the dentist. A board of governors meeting at the hospital. The replacement of the garden gate.

Taking a breath, Griff turned to the second week in June, the last few days of his father’s life. His gaze hitched on the final entry, from the day before they’d all left for the country house for the final time.

Norman—three o’clock.

Norman had visited Father on his last day in London? It wasn’t unusual for the two men to meet. Griff wasn’t completely surprised that Norman had never mentioned seeing Father on his last day in London. Norman believed talking about Griff’s parents prevented their son from putting the tragedy behind him and moving forward.

Griff not only missed his parents. He’d also missed talking about them and, in doing so, solidifying and preserving his memories of them. A polite rap on the door cut into Griff’s thoughts.

Wright appeared. “Dr. Pratt is calling, my lord.”

“Is he?” Griff hadn’t seen Norman since they’d had dinner. “Show him in.”

“Shall I bring in tea?”

“Yes.”

Wright remained in place with a politely expectant expression on his face.

“With a plate of biscuits,” Griff added.

Wright dipped his chin. “Very good, my lord.”

“Norman.” Griff rose to greet his former guardian a few moments later. “Come in.”

One of Norman’s salt-and-pepper brows arched. “Are you certain?” Norman paused on the threshold before advancing. “We don’t seem to be on the best of terms these days.”

“We would not be family if we didn’t argue.” He went to pour them each a drink.

“How are you doing?” Norman probed his face.

“Very well.” He handed the older man a brandy. “It is good to be home.”

“Take care not to move too fast. The tragedy, along with taking up all of your duties, might prove to be overwhelming if you move too quickly.”

“There’s little danger of my rushing things. After all, it took me fourteen years to get from your home back here to Haven House.”

Norman surveyed the study. “This chamber brings back so many memories.” He focused on Griff. “How have you been settling in?”

“Rather smoothly.” Griff sipped his brandy. “A few of the old servants are still here.”

“Like the butler, I see.” Norman’s mouth quirked. “Wright is not particularly fond of me. When I became your guardian, I attempted to sort through your father’s things. I had the distinct impression that he was hiding papers from me.”

“Wasn’t the solicitor charged with resolving any existing business matters?”

“Yes, but as your father’s closest friend, I thought I should see if there were any personal matters that needed to be discreetly attended to.”

“What kinds of personal matters?”

Shifting in his chair, Norman stared at the bookstacks.

“Norman?” Griff pressed. “Are you referring to this alleged mistress my father supposedly kept?”

“Not in particular,” he finally said. “All men have personal matters they might prefer to keep private from their families. And their solicitor.”

“Were you looking for anything specific?”

“Not at all.”

He posed his next question as Wright came in with the tea. “Do you recall seeing Father the day before he died?”

Norman nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”

Griff tapped on the appointment book. “It’s in his calendar.”

Norman sat up straighter. “You found Jeffrey’s calendar?”

“I did.”

“Where was it?” Amusement lit his eyes. “Wright obviously hid it. I was right to suspect him.”

“Not to worry,” Griff said. “I found nothing that would be a source of scandal or indiscretion.”

“That’s a relief.”

“What did you and Father talk about on that Friday?”

Norman looked pained. “I do wish you would let this rest. Leave the past where it belongs.”

“I need to know, Norman.”

“You already do. Your father wanted me to tell Caroline I was meeting him in the country.”

“And that was the day he asked you? The day before we left for the country?”

“Yes. Caroline suddenly decided to go with him, but he was reluctant.”

Griff had badgered his mother into accompanying his father to the country because he knew Selina would be there. Guilt pressed down on him. If he hadn’t pushed, at least Mother might still be alive.

Griff paused. “There is another matter I wish to discuss. It pertains to Miss Zaydan.”

“What about her?”

“The commission meets in two days’ time. What do you expect will happen?”

“Mansfield will be called to tell the commission what happened. The bonesetter will be invited to speak as well, if she chooses. I expect it will all be over in an hour or so.”

“She doesn’t have a chance against someone as powerful as Viscount Payton, does she?”

“No, especially if she is guilty of purposely putting out Mansfield’s wrist.”

Griff exhaled. By associating himself so closely with her at the fundraiser, he’d harmed her chances ever further. Hanna was now attached to scandal. Not just the one related to him and Selina. But there were also whispers about what had motivated Griff and Bridges to fight over her.

“I see.”

“All is not lost for your friend. She is fortunate the ban on her seeing patients doesn’t extend outside of London.”

“She’s likely to return to Manchester to work.” The thought of her leaving weighed heavily on him. Even though Griff knew it was for the best. He needed to focus on a future with Selina and the family they might create.

Norman stayed for another half hour mostly discussing hospital matters. Once he departed, Griff summoned Wright. “Do you recall Dr. Pratt visiting my father on the day before we left for Ashby Manor for that last time?”

“I do remember, my lord,” the butler said.

“Is there anything about that final visit that stood out to you?”

“Very little, my lord. However, I do seem to remember that it was a quick visit and unremarkable. Although both men did seem a bit tense when they parted company.”

“I see.” Wright’s recollection fit with what Norman had told him about the two men arguing at their final meeting. But over what? Maybe Griff was naive, but he found it difficult to accept his father’s supposed infidelity. “You’ve no idea what they talked about?”

“Regrettably not, my lord.”

He paused. “Was my father known to . . . consort with other women? Did he have a mistress?”

Wright drew back. “No, my lord, not to my knowledge. He appeared quite devoted to Lady Griffin.”

Griff tapped on the open appointment book. “I have to find out what Father and Norman argued about. Do you have any idea what became of my father’s journal?”

“No, my lord. I never saw it after his lordship’s death. Perhaps he took it with him to Ashby Manor that final weekend.”

A chill went through Griff. In order to learn his father’s final private thoughts, he might have no choice but to return to Ashby Manor, the scene of the most horrifying event of his life.

He drew a deep breath to steady himself. He’d managed to conquer his doubts about Haven House. He was actually happy to be home. Maybe he’d feel the same once he went to his country seat.

It was time to finally put all of the demons from his past to rest.