The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

“I must admit,” Norman said, “I was surprised to receive your note asking me to call.”

“Do not be,” Griff said. “This is not a social visit.”

They met in the study at Haven House the afternoon after Griff’s return to Town. He’d stayed on at Ashby for a few days after Hanna’s departure. His elder sisters, Winifred and Maria, joined him and Dorcas there. They spent the time reminiscing and becoming reacquainted.

Griff was happy to see them but also eager to return to Town. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to be in the same general vicinity as Hanna, even if he could not be with her.

“How was your visit to Ashby Manor?” Norman took a seat, even though he hadn’t been invited to do so. Griff realized Norman had taken many liberties with him over the years.

“It was enlightening.”

“Is that so?” Norman forced lightness into the words, even as his fingers clutched the arms of the chair. “In what way?”

“I found Father’s journal.”

Norman watched him carefully. “Did you?”

“Imagine my surprise to learn that Father wanted to have you removed as head physician at Margate.”

“What else did you learn?”

“That he was angry with you about something involving me.”

He wrote the sentence down, as it appeared in Father’s journal.

Norman studied the sentence. “Thomas’s what?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Not that you can be counted upon to reveal the truth. Why did Father want you removed?”

“I did not know that he did.”

“Is that so? You didn’t seem surprised when I mentioned it to you a few minutes ago.”

“What does it matter now? After all these years?”

“It matters to me. I’m learning all sorts of things that make me question you and your intentions. Father obviously also discovered something unsavory.”

“As I have said, I am a pragmatist.” He removed his spectacles and pulled a kerchief from his pocket. “Your father was a romantic, as only a man born to wealth and privilege can be. He did not appreciate the hardships, the realities, of operating a charity hospital.”

“What does that have to do with him wanting to oust you, his cousin and childhood companion, his dearest adult friend?”

“The hospital’s resources are limited.” He buffed the glass lenses. “Jeffrey believed no expense should be spared to save every life. I believed it was better to let some patients go, for the greater good.”

“You allowed people to die?”

“Only when there was little or no hope of recovery.” He resettled his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “We couldn’t afford to waste medicine and other supplies on those who were unlikely to survive.”

“I thought your mission in life was to save lives.”

“To save the most lives possible overall. Not each individual life. Some souls had to be lost for the greater good.”

Griff steepled his fingers. “Why do I get the sense that you are telling me only part of the truth?”

“I’ve no idea.” Norman twisted in his seat, glancing toward the door. “I have not eaten anything since this morning. Is Wright coming in with the tea tray soon?”

There was a knock on the door. The butler entered.

“Ah,” Norman said. “There you are at last. I am famished.”

Wright directed his attention at Griff. “The visitor you were expecting has arrived, my lord.”

“Very good. Dr. Pratt was just leaving.”

Norman’s salt-and-pepper brows drew together. “But we haven’t had tea yet.”

Griff stood up. “I have a very busy day. If you will excuse me, Dr. Pratt, my butler will see you out.”

“Now, Griff, surely—”

“Good day, Dr. Pratt.”

Wright showed Norman out and returned with the Bow Street runner Griff had engaged.

“Well?” Griff asked the small, compact man with canny eyes and a shiny pate.

“As you know, Mr. Zaydan, the late bonesetter, received your mother’s jewelry from one Gerard Loder, who is a fence. Loder, the fence, got the jewels from a man, one Leonard Palk, who was eager to rid himself of the ring and necklace because he believed they were cursed.”

“Why did Palk think the jewelry was cursed?”

“That, I do not know. What I do know is where to find Leonard Palk.”

Griff surged to his feet. “Where?”

“Margate.”

“The hospital?” Norman’s hospital.

“Indeed.”

“What does he do there? Is he a physician?”

“No, he is a ward clerk. To my understanding, he has worked there for many years.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-three.” Griff did a quick calculation. Palk would have been nineteen at the time of the murders. Young perhaps, but plenty old enough to take two lives.

“Have you seen Leonard Palk yourself? Are you certain he is still employed at Margate?”

“Yes, my lord. I saw him with my own eyes. He works at the hospital.”

Once the runner departed, Griff took a seat at his desk to write a quick note. He then rang for Wright.

“My lord?” the butler asked upon entering.

“Please have this note delivered to Miss Zaydan’s dispensary without delay.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“I am going out.”

“You failed to mention that Mrs. Rutland is Lord Griffin’s sister,” Evan said to Hanna in the dispensary’s back office.

“Yes, I did.” She kept her focus on recording medical notes from her last appointment.

“I don’t suppose you forgot to mention it.”

“It’s really none of your concern.”

Evan paused. “I’d like to make it my concern.”

This time Hanna did look up. “I beg your pardon?”

“We should marry.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and I should get married.”

This time there was no misunderstanding his meaning. “But we are friends.”

“That is for certain. I propose that, in addition to being good friends and business partners, that we also become man and wife.”

She blinked, at first too stunned to find any words. “If this is some sort of a noble sacrifice on your part—”

“I doubt there’s a man alive who’d view taking you to wife as a sacrifice.”

Hanna studied Evan’s face and realized he was serious. Eager even. “I am flattered, but if I marry at all, my family expects my husband to be an Arab from within the community.”

Skepticism stamped Evan’s face. “Your family knows me. They’ve always been very welcoming. Your grandmother can never give me enough food and drink when I visit.”

“Arabs are hospitable. But that generosity stops short of welcoming you to the family. We’ve discussed this before.”

“I believe we could convince them.”

Hanna didn’t want to. “This is all so unexpected.”

“You cannot be surprised. Surely my display of jealousy at the hospital fundraiser told you all you need to know about the intensity of my feelings.”

Hanna shifted in her seat. “I thought you were just being protective.”

“That, too. But the truth is that I care for you a great deal. We could work together and have a family together.”

“Children?” Perspiration beaded on her upper lip.

“I not only accept your bonesetting, I admire your skills. It would be criminal if you were no longer able to practice.”

“Before long, I probably won’t be able to be a bonesetter in London.”

“You could if you worked here at the dispensary as my wife and assistant. You could continue your real work under that guise, if it comes to that. But I doubt that it will. Your cousin, the marquess, will see to it.”

She inspected Evan, assessing him as a stranger might. She saw a lanky man with handsome features. Most women would find him appealing. The idea of being intimate with Evan wasn’t exactly distasteful, but it did leave her feeling cold. She’d relived the memory of that afternoon with Griff over and over again in her mind every day since leaving Ashby Manor. She couldn’t envision being with another man.

“Nothing would change here at the dispensary,” Evan continued when she remained silent. “Except that you would have the protection of my name and would not need to have a chaperone here at all times.”

“Evan,” she said gently. “I am flattered, but I cannot marry you.”

“Excuse me.” Annie appeared on the office threshold. Hanna had never been so grateful to be interrupted. “There is a note for you, miss. The man who delivered it says it’s urgent.”

“What man?” Evan asked sharply. “Is he still here?”

“No, Dr. Bridges. He left.”

“Thank you, Annie.” Hanna took the letter and excused Annie to return to the dispensary floor. Keenly aware of Evan’s eyes on her, she unfolded the message written on quality paper. Her skin tingled as she read.

I have just learned that the man who stole a certain set of jewels can be found at Margate Hospital where he works as a ward clerk. His name is Leonard Palk. I am on my way to speak with him. If you happen, by some chance, to be going to Margate this afternoon at three o’clock, you might have the opportunity to speak with him as well.

Hanna regarded the clock. It was twenty minutes to three. Folding the letter, she came to her feet. “I must go.”

“What? Now?” Evan watched her with an incredulous expression. “Where are you going? We haven’t finished speaking about this.”

“We’ll talk later,” she called back over her shoulder. Although her answer would not change. “I promise.”

When Hanna arrived at the hospital, she found a familiar face waiting out front for her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Zaydan.”

“Hello. It’s Felix, isn’t it?” she asked Griff’s valet.

“Yes, miss. If you will follow me.” He led her through some wards and back corridors until they arrived at a set of offices. She found Griff waiting inside one of them.

“Thank you, Felix,” Griff said to the valet, who bowed and quietly melted out of sight, closing the door behind him.

“Is that the footman who used to cover for you as a boy?”

“Yes.”

Hanna basked in the warmth of his gaze. She’d missed him.

“As you can see, he is still covering for me. How are you?”

I miss you. “I am well. We’ve been busy at the dispensary.” She scanned the office. There was a desk, two hardback chairs and little in the way of decoration. “Is this your office? Do governors have offices?”

“Hardly. I’m just borrowing it. Mr. Palk will join us shortly.” He paused. “I hesitated to send word to you.”

“I’m pleased that you did. This is the last of our unfinished business. We are resolving the question surrounding your mother’s jewels.”

“It isn’t exactly wise to be alone together.”

“It’s not like we are going to climb up on the desk and—” Her words trailed off. Her face burned when she recalled what they’d once gotten up to on her desk at the dispensary. Griff looked away. He remembered, too.

There was a knock on the door. The man who joined them was in his thirties with curling sandy hair and a plump boyish face. “My lord, I understand you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, come in, Palk. Have a seat.”

Palk licked his lips. “Does the board of governors have an issue with my work?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I am not here regarding board matters.”

“I see. Then, how may I be of service, my lord?”

Griff pulled his mother’s necklace and ring from his pocket and set them on the desk. “You can tell me where you got these.”

Palk’s face lost its color. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Griff’s voice was like ice. “Why don’t you save us all a great deal of time and trouble by speaking the truth rather than making false denials?”

Palk looked from Griff to Hanna and back again. “I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”

“You sold these pieces, my mother’s jewelry, to a fence named Gerard Loder, who in turn gave them to a bonesetter in Red Lion Square. I know these pieces were in your possession. I will ask my question once again, and this time, I expect the truth.”

Palk shifted in his chair. “I didn’t know anything about them until about four years ago. They were in my father’s possession.” The words poured out of him. “After he suffered an apoplexy, as he lay dying, he told me about the necklace and ring. He made me promise to rid myself of them as soon as possible.”

Hanna leaned forward. “Did your father tell you how he came to be in possession of the jewels?”

Palk stared at her. He had no idea who she was. Griff had not introduced her.

“Answer her,” Griff barked.

“No. But he did say they had brought him nothing but misery since the day they came into his possession. He said they were cursed and that I should dispose of them as soon as possible. I did as my father asked. I sold them to a fence. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Griff and Hanna exchanged glances. If the elder Palk was deceased, this felt like another dead end.

“What did you father do?” Hanna asked.

“I don’t know what he did to get the jewels,” Palk said.

“No, I meant what sort of work did your father do?”

“Oh.” Palk looked relieved. “He was employed here. His main duty was to clean the floors and tend to the hearths in the wards. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you that nobody cleaned a floor like Fred Palk. He secured this employment for me.”

“And how long have you worked at the hospital?” Griff asked.

“I started here when I was nineteen,” he replied, adding helpfully, “fourteen years ago.”

“Do you recall the month you started here?” Griff asked, his voice strained.

“Yes, indeed. It was summertime. Late June.”

Griff felt nauseous. “It cannot be a coincidence,” he said after Leonard Palk had returned to his duties.

“I agree,” Hanna said. “Mr. Palk was hired about a fortnight after your parents were killed.”

“What do you think it means?” He wrapped a hand down over his mouth and chin.

“That maybe there is some connection between your parents’ deaths and this hospital. The elder Mr. Palk knew about it, and someone paid to keep him quiet.”

“It cannot be Norman, can it?” The possibility that he’d resided under the same roof as his parents’ killer was more than he could stomach.

“We should not assume Dr. Pratt killed your parents.” She spoke firmly, grounding Griff while everything he thought he knew about his life slipped away. “As much as I would like to blame him.”

“It would make sense, though, wouldn’t it? They felt safe with Norman. He could have taken them both by surprise.”

She considered his words. “I dislike the man intensely, but is he capable of using a knife . . . in that way?”

“Norman is a physician.” He surged to his feet and paced away, restless energy coursing through him. “He would certainly know which cuts are the deepest and most effective.”

She shivered. “Do you know where Dr. Pratt was the night your parents died?”

“He says he was somewhere here in London. That people saw him. I’ll have the runner investigate.”

“What is your theory?” She watched him pace back and forth. “You seem to have one.”

“Either Palk’s father is the killer, or he knew who killed my parents. That person, the murderer, is somehow associated with someone in a position of power in this hospital. The attacker paid the elder Palk to keep quiet by giving him my mother’s jewelry. He also agreed to hire Fred Palk’s son to be more than just a cleaning person.”

“That theory has merit. A clerk is a step up from tending fires and sweeping floors.”

Griff collapsed back into his chair. “Or I’ve got it all wrong. And it’s all a terrible coincidence. Or I am not properly connecting the dots.”

“Maybe the attacker was someone on the board of governors of this hospital who had a disagreement with your father.”

“What disagreement could be great enough to drive someone to murder?”

She shrugged. “Will you tell Dr. Pratt what you’ve learned?”

“For what purpose? He’ll only lie again.”

“Still, I would be interested in his reaction.”

“I’ll think on it.” He gave her a tired smile. “At least your father is absolved. There’s no apparent connection between him and Palk or Palk’s late father.”

“That is a relief. But I never doubted his innocence.”

They sat in silence, wondering what this latest development meant, reluctant to depart the small, windowless office because doing so would mean leaving each other’s company.

Griff studied her. “The commission hearing is coming up. How are you faring?”

“I am as ready as I can be. My patients are prepared to speak on my behalf.”

“I shall be the first to stand up for you.”

“What about you? How have you been?”

“Racked with indecision and guilt.”

“About?”

“Selina.”

Her stomach clenched. “You and Lady Winters have spoken?”

“Not yet. But it won’t be long now before we meet and I hear her decision.”

“You are fond of her, are you not?”

“I am far fonder of you.”

“You protected your Selina for fourteen years. You would have gone to your grave allowing people to assume you are a killer. All in the name of protecting her honor.”

“Your point?”

“Somewhere deep down inside of you, you must have some intense feelings for Lady Winters. You gave up so much to protect her.”

“What is happening here? Why are you trying to convince me of my love for another woman?”

“She is not just any woman. She is your oldest friend. You share many experiences. You will likely marry her. And it might be easier if you could reconnect with those feelings of love you must have had for her. At least a little.”

“I shall try.”

“Evan asked me to marry him today.”

He shot her a sour look. “Why don’t you just plunge a sharp blade directly into my heart?”

“I did not accept his offer.”

“But you are considering it.”

“No. My family would never agree.”

“And you don’t love him.” Bridges, or some other Arab man, might one day get the rest of Hanna: the genuine smile that made a man feel like he’d won the lottery; her relentless efficiency and competence; the stern countenance that never failed to stir Griff’s blood; her warmth in his bed. A future husband might get all of that. But Griff selfishly wanted to keep Hanna’s heart for himself.

She released a long breath. “Maybe I should ask my family to try and find me an Arab husband willing to accept my bonesetting.”

“You haven’t found such a man yet. What makes you think you will now?”

“If I were pledged to another, it might be easier for both of us to move on.”

“Nothing about this is easy.”

“No, but we always knew this is where matters would end up.”

He studied her. “Are you always so certain about everything?”

There was a tap on the door. Palk reappeared. “I do beg your pardon. I forgot some papers.” He crossed over to the desk to retrieve them.

Griff watched him. “When did your father die?”

“My father? Fortunately, he is still with us.”

Griff’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said your father died.”

“We almost lost him a few times, but Papa is a stubborn man. He is confined to his bed but has a strong will to live.”

“This is the place.” Griff helped Hanna alight from the carriage. They’d come directly from the hospital to the squalid Palk home in Wapping. The streets were crowded, and the air thick with the stench from open sewers.

Hanna stared apprehensively at the dingy home before them. “Shouldn’t we have alerted them that we were coming?”

“I didn’t want the younger Palk to warn his father off.”

An older woman answered the door. They entered a gloomy room with few furnishings. What little the Palks did have was bundled up and stacked against one wall. The woman, Fred Palk’s sister, became cooperative once Griff paid her for her trouble. “Don’t stay too long,” she warned. “’E sleeps most of the time.”

The sickroom, humid and pungent, smelled of illness and unwashed bodies. The space was mostly bare except for wrapped bundles of clothing and other household items crowded into a corner. In the dim light, they could make out a frail figure swathed in blankets on a narrow bed. Griff stepped forward, his heart beating hard. Was he about to face his parents’ killer? “Mr. Palk?”

Bleary gray eyes in a lined faced peered out from the bundle of blankets. “’Oo wants ter know?”

“I do. I am Griffin.”

“The viscount?”

The lack of air, the stench, made Griff queasy. “Yes.”

“It’s a little late ter send me ter Newgate.”

“Is that where you belong?”

“If I killt yer parents, I would not confess ter it.”

Griff felt light-headed. “Why do you assume that is why I am here?”

“Because I’ve been waiting fer ya.”

“Why is that?”

“If I’d done somefing like that, it might have weighed on me. I’ve had nuffing but bad luck since.”

Had all these years of wondering, of not knowing, led to this moment? The cloaked confession confirmed Griff’s worst suspicions. He forced himself to ask the question, even though he dreaded hearing the answer. “Did someone order you to kill my parents?”

“If I were to do somefing like that, it would be for the jewels, the treasures. I was never a killer fer hire.”

“It was just a burglary then?” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “How did you even know about Ashby?”

“We were visiting my wife’s cousin ’oo lived in the village. There was a wedding party. ’E mentioned the servants from the grand ’ouse were off to enjoy the celebration. The ’ouse was empty, ’e said. The family was supposed ter be in Town. It was going ter be an easy job. But the family was there. Fings got outta control.”

Bile rose in Griff’s throat. His parents were slaughtered, the family destroyed, because of a chance mention to a village visitor. “Are you saying no one engaged you to murder my parents? You acted alone?”

The old man shook his head. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it. It wernt somefing I spent a long time planning.”

Hanna stepped forward. “Why are you telling us this now?”

The older man momentarily closed his eyes. “It weighs on ya. Taking a life.”

“And no one asked you to harm my parents?” Griff asked again.

“No.”

Relief cascaded through him, making Griff weak in the knees. Norman hadn’t killed his parents. His former guardian might be arrogant, duplicitous and ruthless, but at least he wasn’t a killer.

Palk coughed feebly. “I regretted it every day since. I might be a thief, but I never saw myself as a killer. If it makes yer feel any better, I’m paying the price. I can’t leave this bed. My sister ’as ’ad to take care of me since Mrs. Palk died.”

“No,” Griff said sharply. “It does not make me feel better. How did your son get the clerk’s position at the hospital?”

Confusion lit Palk’s craggy face. “’Ee’s clever, I guess. I would not blame yer if yer wanted to kill me right here.”

“And put you out of your misery? I think not.” Griff couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out of this place. He strode out of the chamber and through the front room with Hanna hurrying after him.

As he pulled the front door open to the blissful light of day, he heard Hanna speak to Palk’s sister. “Are you moving?”

“Yes,” the older woman replied. “Leonard insists that we move to better lodgings. They pay ’im well at the ’ospital.”

They exited and climbed directly into the carriage. Griff plopped down hard on the seat and exhaled a long, shuddering breath. He dragged a hand down his face. “We have our answer. Palk killed my parents.”

“Do you believe he acted alone?”

“I have no reason to doubt him.”

She paused. “Maybe knowing the truth will eventually give you some peace.”

He stared, unseeing, out the window. “I am relieved that Palk’s story absolves Norman. He is guilty of many things, but at least murder isn’t one of them.”

“I am glad you can find comfort in that.”

“Otherwise, I honestly don’t know how I feel. Numb. Sick to my stomach.”

She took his hand. “You’ve had quite the shock.”

“It isn’t every day that a man confronts his parents’ murderer. And finds that he is a pathetic old man rather than the fearsome monster he’d always envisioned.” He squeezed her gloved hand. “It helps that you’re here.”

She lifted their joined hands and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. “There’s no place I would rather be.”