The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

Hanna’s mouth fell open.

Mrs. Rutland was one of Griff’s negligent sisters? How could an apparently devoted mother show such callous disregard for her young brother?

“How have you been?” Mrs. Rutland asked Griff.

He gave a sad smile. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to inquire about my welfare?”

“My name is William,” the boy interjected.

Griff’s face softened as he studied the child. “How do you do, William? It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Why don’t you ever visit us?” the boy asked. “Mama always seems sad when she talks about you. It is because you do not come to see her.”

“William.” His mother warned. “It isn’t polite to ask questions.”

“Especially ones that are difficult to answer,” Griff added.

Mrs. Rutland flushed. “I understand Lady Winters has cleared your name about Mother and Father. About that night. I’m very happy for you.”

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your sisterly concern.”

Mrs. Rutland licked her lips. “Now that you have set up residence at Haven House, I thought perhaps you would call upon me. I could give you my direction.”

“I have your direction. As you have had mine all of these years.”

“Then you will call?”

“Is it only now, after Selina cleared my name in such a spectacular, scandalously public manner, that you wish to become reacquainted?”

“No.” Mrs. Rutland faltered. “That is not it at all.”

“Mama, Mama.” William tugged on his mother’s sleeve again. He whispered something in her ear. Mrs. Rutland—Griff’s sister—did not take her eyes off her brother as the boy spoke quietly into her ear.

She pressed her lips inward. “Very well.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out payment for Hanna. “I must go. William has a rather urgent matter to attend to.”

The boy jumped off the table. “Good-bye, Uncle Thomas.”

“Good-bye William.” He studied the boy with interest. “I’m very pleased I had the opportunity to meet you.”

“Tommy—” Mrs. Rutland said.

“It’s Griffin now.”

“Griffin, I should like to speak with you again.”

“Would you?”

“Hurry, Mama.” William tugged his mother’s hand, practically dragging her to the door.

“Perhaps, Griffin, if we could just—” She was practically pleading.

“Good day.” He did not look at his sister. Did not watch her and his nephew open the door to depart. When he heard the door shut, Griff closed his eyes and exhaled a long and shaky breath. He clutched the back of a chair in the waiting area as if he needed the support to stay upright.

Hanna knew she should keep her distance. But he seemed so alone that she went to him, putting her hand on his arm. “So, that is your sister.”

“Yes.” He slipped into a chair.

Hanna’s chest constricted at his pained expression. She sat beside him. “She seemed happy to see you.”

He looked dazed. “She did, didn’t she?”

“She was clearly emotional. Hers was not the behavior of a woman who does not care.”

“Stop.” Griff put up his hand. “I barely survived my sisters’ desertion the first time. I don’t think I could live through it again.”

Hanna persisted. “I don’t think she came to see me by chance. She was asking about you before you arrived.”

“I honestly don’t have it in me to discuss Dorcas any longer. I’m here about Gerard Loder.”

“The man who gave your mother’s jewelry to my father?” She let the issue of his sister drop. “What about him?”

“He’s a fence, according to the runner I engaged. He got the necklace and ring from a man named Leonard Palk.”

“And who is Leonard Palk?”

“My runner is looking into that as we speak.”

“We might be getting closer.”

“I hope so.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “There is another matter.”

“What is it?”

“My father kept a journal.”

“Does it have any helpful information?”

“That’s just it. I do not know. The journal is probably at Ashby Manor. The place where . . . my parents were killed.” He shuddered. “I haven’t been back since.”

“Is there something specific you are hoping to find in the journal?” she asked gently.

“My father met with Norman the day before we left for the country. The two had words. Norman insinuated the argument had to do with my father’s infidelity.”

“Do you think that is true?” She didn’t know the first thing about Griff’s father, but she questioned the doctor’s trustworthiness.

“I don’t want to believe my father had a mistress. He kept a journal. Maybe that will clarify why he made an unexpected trip to the country.”

“If your father was unfaithful, would he really write something like that down in his journal?”

“Probably not.” He exhaled long and slow. “But Norman is withholding information. He seems to be protecting my father’s memory. That leads me to wonder whether Father was mixed up in something that led to his death.”

“It appears you’ll have no peace until you go to Ashby Manor and find the journal.”

“I’m not sure I am up to it. To be honest, I dread returning there.”

“Perhaps you will find that it is like Haven House. You have a childhood’s worth of good memories at Ashby. Maybe that will help balance the bad recollections. You are a grown man now. No longer a hurt and confused child.”

He exhaled. “I will think on it.” He looked at her. Hanna realized they were seated entirely too close together, their faces barely a foot apart. “It is good to see you. To be able to talk things through with you. There are few people with whom I can speak openly.”

He seemed so alone in that moment that Hanna reached for his hand. “I will always be your friend,” she promised. Griff had few true friends. She would not abandon him the way his sisters had. No matter how painful it was to be with him and know he’d soon be wed to Lady Winters.

Staring down at their hands, he interlocked his fingers with hers. “I miss touching you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of his hands entwined with hers. “I miss being touched by you,” she admitted, even though she shouldn’t. “But we mustn’t. It’s dishonorable when you are bound to another.”

“I am not bound to Selina yet. She said she does not consider herself bound to me and that I should feel the same.” He stroked Hanna’s hand. Warmth swirled along her skin. “That might change after Selina and I meet in a few weeks, but for now I am technically a free man.”

She gently withdrew her fingers. “But only technically,” she said softly.

“Unfortunately.” He let her go, his touch lingering on her fingers as she slid them out of his hand.

The bell above the door sounded. The man who entered appeared to be in his fifties. He wore an old-fashioned plain amber tailcoat and blue trousers.

Hanna rose. The sensation of having her hand held in Griff’s lingered. “Good day.”

“Are you Mrs. Zaydan?”

“I am.”

“I am Samuel Lockhart.”

“Are you a relation to Mrs. Lockhart?”

He gave a sharp nod. “Mr. Lockhart was my uncle.”

“How do you do?” she said warmly. “I am sorry for the loss of your aunt. How may I be of assistance?”

“You may assist me by shutting your doors and delivering this property back to me, the rightful owner.”

Hanna blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Griff came to his feet as well, remaining quiet, but silently bolstering her.

“The rent for this property is very valuable,” Mr. Lockhart pointed out.

“I am afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said politely. “The terms of your aunt’s will allow me to operate my dispensary free of charge.”

“Yes, I am aware that my uncle’s wife, a woman without a drop of Lockhart blood in her, left this space for your . . . operation.”

“Then, why are you here?” She didn’t care for his tone.

“I understood you were to be stripped of your right to operate this enterprise of yours yesterday. That you would be forced to cease your exploits, close down and return control of this space to me.”

She wondered where Mr. Lockhart had gotten his information. “You have been misinformed. The commission has made no final decision on the matter.”

“I hope you will do the decent thing and move out as soon as possible. My family and I wish to sell the building.”

Beside her, Hanna could sense Griff itching to intervene. “Then I suggest you sell it with the stipulation that I have the right to use this space for free.”

“Now, see here.” Mr. Lockhart’s chin trembled. “The only reason you are in this building is because you swindled a lonely old lady with a feeble mind.”

Hanna’s neck heated. “I did no such thing. And I am not moving out. Good day, sir.”

“Do you want me to offer you money to leave? How much will it take?”

For a moment, Hanna considered the crass proposal. In all likelihood, she was about to lose her right to practice bonesetting in London. Her cousin Brandon’s intervention had likely only delayed the inevitable. Money from Mr. Lockhart could help Hanna set up a dispensary in Manchester.

But she did not care for the look in Mr. Lockhart’s eyes, the surety in them that she could be bought and sold. Accepting his offer would only confirm his belief that Hanna was nothing but a greedy fraudster who’d cheated his elderly aunt.

“No amount of money is enough to compensate me for the pleasure of doing what I love,” she said. “I hope to be practicing bonesetting in this space until the end of my days.”

“You have no real right to be here and you know it.”

She straightened. “Your aunt gave me the right, and it was hers to give. Not yours.”

“I intend to see my solicitor about this matter.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of my concern,” she replied.

“You will be hearing from me,” he said as he pulled the door open.

“Mr. Lockhart?”

“Yes?” He turned back to her with a smug expression on his face. “Have you decided to accept the money to vacate the premises after all?”

“No, indeed. I was wondering where Mrs. Lockhart was laid to rest. I would like to pay my respects.”

“How should I know?”

“The hospital said that Mrs. Lockhart’s family came for the body.”

“We most certainly did not. Nor did we have any interest in doing so. As I said, Mrs. Lockhart was related to us solely by marriage. Mr. Lockhart was our family. He would have left the building to me outright.” He slammed the door shut behind him as he departed.

“Charming man,” Griff remarked. He noted her pensive expression. “What is it?”

“If the Lockharts didn’t pick up Mrs. Lockhart’s body from the hospital, who did? The matron there told me the family had come for the body. If her family doesn’t have poor Mrs. Lockhart’s remains, then what happened to them?”

“Perhaps someone from Mrs. Lockhart’s own family, and not her husband’s family, saw to the burial.”

“Yes, of course.” Hanna gave a swift nod. “That must be it.”

“For a moment there, I thought you were going to accept his money.”

“I should have. It would be the prudent thing to do. My chances of being able to continue practicing in London are slim.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“It’s out of all of our hands.”

“Not necessarily. We will assemble the people you have helped. Me. Young Annie. Who else have you successfully treated?”

“Laboring-class people, mostly. Shopkeepers, grocers, the occasional solicitor. Nobody, besides you, who might be able to influence the commission.”

“You are forgetting the grandson of an earl.”

“What earl?”

“Dorcas is married to the youngest son of the Earl of Tremayne.”

“Truly?” Hanna marveled at Griff’s revelation. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d never interacted with any of the Quality. Except for Leela, of course. Hanna had yet to even meet Leela’s duke. Now she mingled with aristocrats at fundraisers and healed their children. “It was just a minor dislocation of his finger. Besides, I can hardly ask your sister, a lady, to intervene on my behalf.”

“I can.”

She stared at him. “But you want nothing to do with your sister.”

“True.” His expression was grim. “But if it helps you, I shall go and see Dorcas.”

“I cannot ask that of you.”

“You aren’t asking.”

“If you insist.” Hanna decided not to argue. Griff should go and see his sister. And all the better if Hanna was the catalyst to bring them together after all these years apart. “How soon can you call on her?”