The Viscount Made Me Do It

by Diana Quincy

  He came up beside her, staring at the arrangement. “Are the botanicals supposed to make the skeletons more palatable?”

  “The trees are actually constructed of hardened major veins and arteries.”

  He grimaced. “Dare I ask what the grass is made of?”

  She examined the greenery more closely. “Lung tissue, I believe. And smaller vessels for the bushes as well.”

  “Ugh.” He moved away to examine a sketch on the wall. “I see the morbid theme lingers throughout this particular collection.”

  She straightened, looking over to see what had caught Griff’s attention. The drawing depicted a skeleton standing in an alcove. “That’s a Bidloo.”

  “I gathered. It’s similar to the one in your examining room.” He shook his head. “These two Dutch fellows must have been a bucket of laughs at a party.”

  Hanna scarcely heard him. A life-size sculpture drew her away.

  “I suppose that’s one way to be half-dressed,” Griff remarked, following her. He came to a stop next to her.

  The left half of the woman’s body was a full-color wax skeleton, including some muscles and ligaments. The other half depicted a living woman in fine clothing. It was as though she’d been split down the middle. The left side of her entire body dead, the right side alive and thriving.

  Hanna examined the details of the muscles and the way they roped around the bone. She reached out to touch the skeletal shoulder. “This is where your pain came from.”

  Griff leaned forward, his interest piqued. “That’s the joint that was put out?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers drifted a few inches. “It was here. I had to move it back in.”

  “Fascinating. And my elbow and wrist?”

  She showed him his injuries, where bone had formed in his elbow that she’d cracked in order to move his elbow back to where it needed to be. She pointed out the muscles that had tightened, that she’d massaged and manipulated in order to put his dislocated elbow back where it belonged.

  Griff’s hand moved to his shoulder, his fingers sliding along muscle and bone. “Here?”

  “Here.” She moved his fingers, settling them in the right place. His hands were large, his fingers long and solid. They were a gentleman’s hands. Untouched by physical labor, warm to the touch and very lightly dusted with fine hairs. She’d never found a man’s hands so fascinating before. They’d certainly never stirred her. But Griff’s were different. Everything about this man was different.

  His hand closed over hers, where it rested on his shoulder. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me.”

  The impact of his touch arrowed up her arm like an electrical current. “Any healer would do the same.”

  “But, before you, none of them could.” He turned her hand over in his, laying it flat in his palm, treating it as a masterpiece. With his other hand, he traced the lines of her palm. “So much mastery here,” he murmured. “And exquisite beauty, too.” He lowered his face to press warm, soft lips against her bare palm.

  Hanna’s knees almost buckled. The sensation of his lips against her sensitive skin melted her bones.

  “I should have kept my gloves on.” The words came out breathy and uneven. She didn’t sound like herself.

  His hot gaze met hers. “How fortunate for me that you did not.”

  A wildfire raged inside of Hanna. Once ignited, containment was impossible. She did not move away. When Griff’s serious, captivating face moved closer to hers, she closed her eyes and raised her lips up to meet him.

  His hands cradled the back of her head as his mouth dipped down to settle on hers. His kiss was light and sweet, but not at all unsure. He took small nips. As though he was prepared to release her if she objected. Which did not even cross her mind. If anything, she wanted more.

  Griff pulled her closer, his lips moving in gentle movements over hers. He angled his head so that they fit together perfectly. His lips were both soft and firm, guiding her more deeply into the kiss.

  He nibbled on her bottom lip. She swayed on her feet, floating into the seductive cocoon he spun around them. If she’d known kissing could be so divine, Hanna wouldn’t have waited so long to experience the intimacy.

  He rubbed the back of her neck with tender fingers. Pleasurable chills rushed down her spine. She opened her mouth on a sigh, and his tongue slipped between her lips. He stroked her tongue in slow, caressing movements.

  The kiss was a conversation unlike any Hanna had ever had. She was learning him. The texture of his tongue. The taste of him. The small hum of approval in his throat when she tentatively stroked her tongue along his.

  She held on to his forearms to keep herself steady. Her fingers closed around ropey muscles over bone. She knew his arms. They were strong and capable. He was the port in the storm. But he was also the storm, throwing her off balance, while keeping her steady and safe.

  Safe. The realities of her situation filtered back in. The only way to keep herself protected was to deny Griff, or any man, any liberties. A scandal could destroy Hanna’s bonesetting practice. But that didn’t compel her to stop. Instead rebellious thoughts gathered in her mind. Why should she have to relinquish being close to a man in exchange for pursuing her calling? Why couldn’t she have both?

  But then she remembered the woman Griff was courting. The one he gifted with expensive jewels. “Stop.”

  He released her immediately, searching her face. He was breathing fast. His voice strained. “I am not sorry for kissing you. But I will apologize if I offended you.”

  Ribbons of pleasure continued to unwind in her chest and belly. “Will you also apologize to the lady you are courting?”

  He scrunched up his face. “Meaning?”

  “The lady for whom you intend to purchase an expensive necklace. Have you forgotten her already?”

  “Oh, that.” He flushed. “I overstepped. My apologies.” He put distance between them and addressed her with scrupulous courtesy. “Would you prefer that I wait outside while you view the collection? Perhaps that would make you more comfortable.”

  No. “Yes.” She squared her shoulders. “That would be for the best.”

  Disappointment clouded his gaze. “Very well. Please take all of the time you need to fully enjoy the collection.” He paused. As if he wanted to say more.

  Hanna waited. Anticipation trembled in her veins. Would he deny the existence of another woman? They stared at each other. But then Griff clamped his jaw shut, politely dipped his chin and strode away.

  She did not turn around to watch him leave.

  Griff stepped into Norman’s study and discovered that he had company. A man with long and haphazard hair stood beside Norman peering at an open book in his hands.

  “Griff, come in.” Norman looked up as he entered, snapping the book shut. “You remember Lionel Shaw.”

  “Of course.” Mostly Griff recalled the man’s hair, which had apparently never met a comb. “How are you, Doctor?”

  “Very well. Work keeps me busy.” The man stepped away from Norman. “Speaking of which, I was just leaving. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Griff moved aside for Dr. Shaw to pass through the open door. He watched him continue down the corridor. “He edits a medical journal, doesn’t he?”

  “Not just any journal.” Norman set the book down. “Medical Facts and Observations is perhaps the most influential medical publication in London.”

  “What sorts of things does he write about?”

  “Mostly intriguing or interesting cases that will help advance the cause of medicine. Are you ready to go?”

  Griff was about to attend his first board of governors meeting. “Not just yet. We have some time.” Griff carefully closed the door behind him. “I thought you might like to see the progress that’s been made in my recovery.”

  “Feeling improved, are you?” He examined Griff’s face. “You do seem well rested.”

  “I’ve never felt better.” It was true. Hanna had given hi
m his life back. The years he’d wasted feeling guilty about his parents’ murders, allowing melancholy and anger to consume his days, were behind him. He was alive and pain-free. He intended to make the most of his second chance.

  “Let’s have a look at that shoulder.”

  Griff lifted his arm up over his head. “I cannot get my arm totally straight.”

  “Still, you’ve clearly made excellent progress. And the pain?”

  “Almost all gone.”

  “How about the elbow and wrist?”

  Griff moved his wrist around. “As you can see, almost back to normal.” He removed his tailcoat and set it over the back of a stuffed chair. Rolling up his sleeve, he bared his arm so that Norman could see that his elbow no longer appeared deformed now that it was back in place.

  Norman approached to examine him more closely. “Excellent. Just as I told you. The cure would come with time.”

  “It wasn’t time, it was a bonesetter.”

  Norman’s eyes snapped from Griff’s elbow to his face. “What the devil are you talking about?”

  “I had several sessions with the healer. She said all three joints were out of place. My shoulder, my elbow and my wrist. She put them all back in.”

  “No, my dear boy.” Norman shook his head like a kindly uncle. “It was simply fortunate timing for the bonesetter that your healing occurred over the weeks that you visited that woman.”

  “She cured me. I am telling you, Norman, you should work with her, collaborate with her. Imagine if I had put myself in her care right from the start. I wouldn’t have spent two years in agonizing pain. Think of how many of your patients she could help.”

  Exhaling loudly, Norman removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It pains me to see an intelligent young man made the fool by a well-known charlatan simply because she fluttered those long, dark lashes and allowed you to sample what’s beneath her skirts.”

  “There’s no need to be crass. Hanna is a respectable woman.”

  “Hanna? I see you are on very familiar terms. I credited you with better sense than that.”

  “I haven’t bedded her. And I will ask you to refrain from insulting her.” His voice was hard. “At first, I thought as you did, that she was a fraud.”

  “Then, why did you go and see her in the first place?”

  “Because she has Mother’s necklace.”

  Norman cocked his head. “What?”

  “I saw her at a coffeehouse near Red Lion Square. She was wearing the blue sapphire that Mother always wore.”

  The blood drained from Norman’s face. “The stolen necklace.”

  “The one taken from Mother on the night she died.”

  The air around them felt very fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. “Where did the bonesetter get the necklace?”

  “She says she found it among her father’s things. She doesn’t know where he got it.”

  “There were rumors that the old bonesetter was a fence.”

  “I don’t know anything about her father, but I believe Hanna is innocent of any wrongdoing.” He paused. “I am also convinced she is an extremely skilled healer who can help people who are suffering.”

  “People like Mrs. Zaydan are known to cause suffering,” Norman said patiently, as if explaining a complicated concept to a child. “That is why they are so dangerous.”

  “You should at least speak to her. Meet with her, and some of her patients. Learn about her techniques so that you can come to your own, informed opinion of her.”

  “My opinion is informed.” Norman put his spectacles on. “I attended the Medical College at the London Hospital and received one of the finest educations available. The Medical College is a pioneering school that teaches all of the latest techniques. My opinion, unlike yours, is informed.”

  “I might not be a physician,” Griff said, “but my opinion is informed by my hands-on experience with the woman. She is a talented medical professional.”

  “Medical professional?” Norman shook his head. “Now, I have truly heard it all. For you to refer to any bonesetter as a medical professional defies all logic and good sense.”

  “Please say that you will at least consider what I’ve told you. I have always known you to approach matters with an open mind.”

  “Exactly. That is why you should heed what I am telling you about the bonesetter.” Norman picked up Griff’s tailcoat and handed it to him. “Put this on. We must depart. You don’t want to be late for your first meeting of the board of governors.”

  “I should like to continue this conversation later.”

  “As you wish.” Norman led the way out the door. “But please, whatever you do, make no mention of the bonesetter at the meeting. I don’t want the board members to think I’ve asked a bedlamite to join the hospital board.”

  Chapter Nine

  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 Baba and 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.