The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

That day Hanna set out for Margate Hospital to visit Mrs. Lockhart.

Normally, she stayed clear of Margate, preferring to avoid any encounters with its principal physician, Dr. Pratt, the sanctimonious prig who made no secret of his aversion to Babaand all other bonesetters. But because Mrs. Lockhart was alone in London, Hanna felt obliged to see how she fared.

Carrying a large bouquet procured from street urchins selling flowers near the hospital, Hanna passed through clean wards with generous windows and single beds arranged under high ceilings. The tidy surroundings impressed her.

Margate, a charity hospital, took in patients of limited means who could rarely pay for their care. However, once admitted, patients and their families had no say in their treatment. That would not be the case at her dispensary, if Hanna ever had the opportunity to open one with Evan. Their patients would be actively involved in any decisions regarding their own care.

She was directed to the matron, a respectable-looking woman of middle age who presided over the ward. “My, but that’s a large bunch of flowers,” the matron exclaimed when Hanna approached her.

“There were three children selling them, so I felt obliged to buy from each of them,” Hanna said with a rueful expression. “In any case, Mrs. Lockhart is very fond of spring flowers.”

The matron’s smile slipped. “Mrs. Lockhart?”

“Yes, Mrs. Claudia Lockhart.” When the matron paused, Hanna added, “She was admitted suffering from a lung ailment.”

“Are you . . . a family member, dear?”

“No, I am a neighbor. Mrs. Lockhart is a widow and doesn’t have any family in Town so I thought I’d look in on her. Could you direct me to her bed?”

Sympathy filled the matron’s jowly face. “I am sorry to inform you that Mrs. Lockhart has gone to be with the Lord.”

“What? When?” Hanna felt like she’d been slapped in the face. “Are you certain?” Mrs. Lockhart wasn’t that ill when Hanna last saw her. Could she really be gone?

“Are you all right, dear?” the matron said. “Would you like to sit for a moment?”

Stunned, Hanna allowed the matron to lead her to a seat at her desk. “It’s just that . . . it’s quite a shock.” She set the flowers on the desk. “I hadn’t realized Mrs. Lockhart was so ill.”

“Lung ailments can be merciless.” She poured a glass of water. “It was very swift. I can assure you that she did not suffer.”

“When did she succumb to her ailment?”

She set the water before Hanna. “It’s been almost a week now.”

Guilt gnawed at Hanna’s stomach. Dreading a visit to Dr. Pratt’s hospital, she’d delayed seeing her neighbor. She hadn’t been terribly close to the older woman, but she hated to think of Mrs. Lockhart dying alone.

She drank some water. “I must find a way to tell her family.”

The matron patted her hand. “No need, dear. The relations are aware. They came for the body.”

“Oh, did they?” Relief whooshed through her. She wouldn’t have to run Mrs. Lockhart’s family to ground. “Do you know anything about the arrangements? I would like to pay my respects.”

“No, dear, I understand they intended to lay Mrs. Lockhart to rest back in her village.”

Hanna took a deep breath. She was glad Mrs. Lockhart’s family had come for her and that her final resting place would be among her loved ones.

“My thanks.” She rose, automatically reaching for the flowers. “You’ve been very kind.”

“Not at all, dear. Good afternoon.”

Her head still spinning, Hanna took her leave. She’d almost reached the exit when she realized she should have left the flowers for the patients. As she pondered going back, she spotted a familiar figure.

Griff.

Only it wasn’t. He normally dressed in well-made clothes, but his attire now—the navy tailcoat and pale paisley waistcoat—were on an entirely different level. They were the expensive clothes of a gentleman. And not just a mere gentleman, a noble of the highest ton. Why was he here? It certainly couldn’t be to visit a friend or member of his family. Margate’s patients were among the neighborhood’s least fortunate.

He was accompanied by a small group of men. Clearly men of means, but none stood out the way Griff did with his fine physique, splendid clothing and broad shoulders. He walked as if the world was at his beck and call. It was Hanna’s first opportunity to see Griff in his own element, among his own associates. The effect was tantalizing.

When his gaze landed on her, Griff’s face brightened. “Mrs. Zaydan,” he called out as he drew nearer to her. “This is a surprise.”

“I came to see a friend.” One of the men from his party separated from the crowd. Unease sliced through Hanna. Dr. Norman Pratt. Why was Griff with Dr. Pratt?

“My lord,” called another of the men, “we’ll go on ahead to the meeting room.”

Griff waved the men on. “I’ll join you shortly.”

“What?” Hanna stared at the man and then at Griff. “Why did he refer to you as my lord?”

“Lord Griffin,” said another man, “see you inside.”

Griff nodded.

Hanna stared at him. Lord Griffin? Mr. Thomas—Griff—was Viscount Griffin? A dozen images shuffled through her mind. The package labeled by her father. Addressed to Lord Griffin, the viscount in Richmond. The gold ring within. The inscription. Lady Griffin.

“You’re—” she asked, her voice drowned out by her pulse pounding in her ears.

“I can explain.” That hooded blue gaze watched her carefully.

“Tell me you are not Lord Griffin.”

“If I told you that, I would be lying. And I do not want to lie to you.”

“It’s too late for that.” She could barely choke out the words. Griff was Lord Griffin. And he was obviously associated with Dr. Pratt, a man who’d tried to ruin Baba and would happily destroy everything Hanna had worked so hard to achieve. Had they partnered together to plot her downfall? To accuse her of stealing the ring and necklace? To prove that she was a fraud?

“It’s not what you think,” Griff . . . Lord Griffin . . . said quietly, urgently.

Hanna felt very cold inside. Despite the sun streaming in through the window, trapping her in its rays. “How would you know what I think?”

“Griff.” Dr. Pratt came up behind him, his interested gaze finding Hanna. “And who is this?”

“A friend,” Griff responded.

“No, not a friend,” Hanna corrected.

The doctor’s eyebrows lifted. He scanned her from head to toe. “Do not tell me that this is your bonesetter.”

“This is Mrs. Zaydan.” Griff cut Dr. Pratt off. “The very skilled bonesetter who repaired my shoulder.”

Dr. Pratt flushed. “Forgive me, but I must speak plainly. Mrs. Zaydan knows as well as I that she had nothing to do with your recovery. I understand that the two of you might need a respectable pretext for your meetings, but I cannot in good conscience allow medical falsehoods to go unchallenged.”

Hanna gasped at the implied insult to her virtue.

Griff’s face went white. “Mrs. Zaydan is a respectable woman.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise,” Dr. Pratt responded evenly. “The meeting is about to begin. If you will excuse me. Griff, please don’t be too long.”

Griff didn’t acknowledge the man’s words or his departure. His intense gaze remained fixed on Hanna. “I am sorry.” His features were drawn tight. “Norman . . . erm . . . Dr. Pratt was out of line.”

“Did you tell him that?” Her voice trembled with fury. “Did you tell him we are engaged in a liaison?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then, how did he come up with that notion?”

“Please let us go someplace where I can explain.” He reached for her. “Once I tell you the truth—”

“Don’t touch me!” She jerked her arm away when his fingers brushed her elbow. “Answer the question. Why does Dr. Pratt believe we are conducting an illicit affair?”

“You must know that I have the utmost regard for you. I would never do anything to tarnish your reputation.”

“Then, why would Dr. Pratt say something like that?”

He clamped his mouth shut. Then sighed. “Men talk. I mentioned that I found you to be very appealing. Norman made some unfortunate assumptions.”

She nodded her head in slow, deliberate motions as his words sank in. “I see.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “You discussed me in a manner that made Dr. Pratt believe that if you were not already bedding me, you would be soon.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Do you expect me to believe anything you say?”

“I never told Dr. Pratt that you and I were—”

Fury clouded her vision. “No, you only implied it.” She lashed out, bashing him in the head with the bouquet of flowers. The tips of the broken stems fell with a thud. Loosened petals fluttered to the ground. “How many people have you told that I’m a strumpet to be had for two guineas?”

“None. I swear it.”

“You’re a liar. You lied about who you are and who knows what else. I cannot trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.” She swung out at him again. The bunch of flowers were now just forlorn stems, looking as disillusioned as Hanna felt. He ducked, putting up his hands to defend himself. Although the effort seemed half-hearted. He made no move to stop her. Even though he could have. Easily.

“How dare you?” She struggled to hold back tears of indignation and hurt. A few careless words could ruin her before she even truly started. How many other men had Griff discussed Hanna with? Recalling their kiss made her burn with shame. “How dare you impugn my name? My livelihood? My reputation?” She hurled the remaining stems at him.

He took a step toward her. “Please, Hanna—”

“Don’t you ever say my name again. You have no right.” She backed away. “Stay away from me.” Her voice broke. “I never want to see you again.”

She fled without a backward glance, leaving him standing in a puddle of loose petals and tangled stems.

Griff could barely make it through his first board of governors meeting. Not only had his own behavior with Hanna been less than honorable, but Norman’s insulting manner made everything immeasurably worse.

He kept seeing Hanna’s face, the hurt, the anger, the disbelief. Tomorrow he would visit her and explain everything. He’d even tell her about his mother’s ring. And the necklace.

His thoughts full of Hanna, Griff barely heard himself agree to host a fundraiser for the hospital. It was his role. The point of having a peer on the board was to prevail upon his wealthy friends to loosen their purse strings.

“Your behavior was less than courteous,” he said to Norman after the meeting as they walked back to the waiting carriage.

“What was your friend doing in my hospital?”

“I have no idea. She said she was visiting someone.”

“It is not my place to tell you who to associate with, but I don’t want the young woman anywhere near my patients.”

“I’m hardly her keeper,” Griff retorted. “Do you really intend to keep a perfectly respectable woman from visiting her infirm friends and relations?”

“Perfectly respectable?” Norman exhaled. “For the love of God, if you haven’t swived her yet, do us all a favor and get it over with. Once you wet your prick, perhaps you’ll come to your senses.”

Shocked by Norman’s vulgarity, Griff watched the older man climb into the carriage. Norman was usually gentle and mild-tempered. Above all, Griff always found Norman to be a man of reason.

“I am baffled. Why do you hold Hanna in such deep contempt? You don’t even know her. Is it because she is an Arab?”

“It is quite simple. Your bonesetter is a dangerous woman. She put out the wrist of Lord Payton’s son. The young man was in pain for weeks.” Norman landed hard on the carriage’s forward-facing stuffed seat. “And I do worry that she might be cunning and manipulative. Look how she’s already turning you against me.”

Griff settled across from his former guardian. “Do not be ridiculous. She could never do that.”

“I wonder,” Norman said. “You have never spoken so harshly to me.”

“Nobody could ever turn me against you.” Griff felt a stab of guilt. He was blaming Norman for a situation that was his own fault. None of this would be happening if he hadn’t lied to Hanna from the very beginning.

“There is now talk that she intends to open an infirmary.”

“Mrs. Zaydan is? I hadn’t heard that.” That struck him as more respectable than seeing her patients at home. “Good for her.”

“It could hurt Margate. She will likely open her dispensary near the hospital. Look how easily she turned your head. If she flutters those long, Levantine lashes convincingly enough, our donors could decide to give her our donations. That would be ruinous for a charity hospital. Margate lives and dies by donations.”

Griff scoffed. “How could a small dispensary compete with a full-fledged hospital?”

“I cannot take the risk.” He smoothed a wrinkle in the sleeve of his tailcoat. “Margate is my life’s work. I will do whatever is necessary to protect the hospital.”

It took a moment for Norman’s meaning to sink in. “Surely that doesn’t extend to ruining Mrs. Zaydan’s reputation?”

“My focus is always on the greater good. Nothing must deter Margate from its mission of helping the poor.”

“No matter who gets hurt in the process? Isn’t that a little ruthless?”

“My dear boy, you have never had to worry about where your next shilling will come from. If you had, you would understand that sometimes being ruthless is necessary for the betterment of the many.”

“At the expense of the few?” The cool detachment in Norman’s approach jarred Griff. “I won’t stand by and let you hurt her.”

“Do calm yourself. I don’t intend to do any harm to your bonesetter. She will manage that all on her own.”

“Meaning?”

“Lord Payton is furious about what she did to his son. Who knows how many other Mansfields are out there? She won’t be allowed to continue hurting people. At some point, your bonesetter will be made to account for her transgressions.”