The Viscount Made Me Do It

by Diana Quincy

  “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.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Meskeena.” Citi tsked as her fingers moved rapidly, stuffing boiled cabbage leaves and rolling them into neat piles. “Poor thing. To die alone with strangers.”

  “We don’t know if she was alone.” They were in the kitchen making Hanna’s favorite Arabic dish, cabbage rolls stuffed with lamb and rice, flavored with lemon and garlic. “Mrs. Lockhart’s family took the body to her home village. It’s possible they came the moment they heard she was ill.”

  Lucy, on her feet chopping garlic, tipped her bowl so Citi could see into it. “Is this enough garlic, Um Ali?”

  “More. More.” Citi’s perpetual frown deepened as she switched to Arabic. “That girl is so lazy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lucy returned to her task.

  Hanna lined up rice mixed with lamb on a cabbage leaf and carefully rolled it up. “Remind me why we need so much garlic?”

  “So that the cabbage won’t make you bloated,” Citi answered. To Lucy, she said, “Cut more garlic,” even though the girl was already doing just that.

  “Salam.” Hanna’s brother Rafi wandered in looking like he’d just tumbled out of bed.

  “When did you arrive?” Hanna asked, surprised to see him.

  “Last night.”

  “Ahlan!” Their grandmother’s face lit up as she greeted her grandson. “Do you want something to eat, Citi?”

  Lucy frowned. “Why is she calling him Citi?” she murmured to Hanna. “I though Citi means grandmother.”

  “It does. But a grandmother will also address her grandchild as Citi.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “It’s an endearment. My father always called me Baba. It’s an affectionate way of defining the family relationship between the two people who are speaking.”

  Lucy twisted her lips. “That’s confusing.”

  “Eat something,” Citi urged Rafi.

  “I’m not hungry,” Rafi said. “Is there any coffee?”

  Lucy cast an admiring gaze at him. With his chocolate eyes and perfectly symmetrical bone structure, Hanna’s eldest brother had an effect on women. “I can make it for you, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Rafi yawned. He stooped to brush a kiss on Citi’s cheek. “How’s the prettiest girl in the family?”

  “Malaya minuk. Don’t be silly.” But Citi blushed. “Did you sleep well, habibi?”

  “You arrived yesterday?” Hanna arranged a few more rolled cabbages in the pot. “I didn’t see you last evening.”

  “Elias and I got here late yesterday morning. We made deliveries to some shops on Bond Street. And then”—he did a wavy little dance with his head—“we went to find some amusement.”

  “Of course you did.” Frustration roiled through Hanna. Her brothers could do as they pleased, which included traipsing about town in the company of less-than-respectable women. Meanwhile, all sorts of restrictions were put on Hanna’s ability to do what Baba had trained her to do, which actually helped people. “What time did you come home last night?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re boys. It makes no difference.” Citi beamed at her grandson. “We’re making malfouf for you.” Rafi was tall and much too thin, according to Citi and Mama, who constantly tried to make him eat.

  “I will definitely be at home to eat.” Lucy brought Rafi’s coffee over. He strolled out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, pausing momentarily to wink at Citi. “I can’t miss my citi’s cooking.”

  “Shottar.” Citi watched him go, adoration shining in her eyes. “He’s a good boy.”

  There was a knock at the front door. Hanna tensed.

  “Are you expecting someone, miss?” Lucy asked.

  “No.”

  Lucy left to see who was at the door. Citi eyed Hanna. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked in Arabic.

  Arranging her malfouf rolls in the pot, Hanna avoided Citi’s probing bloodshot gaze. “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Kezaba.”

  Hanna’s face heated. “Why do you assume I’m lying?”

  “You’ve been too quiet since yesterday, when you came back from the hospital.”

  “Our neighbor died unexpectedly. Naturally I’m a little upset.”

  “You are more than upset. You are worried. I hope this is not about Blue Eyes.”

  “Who?” Hanna avoided looking at Citi.

  “Your patient. You know which one. Blue Eyes. I don’t have to remind you that we stay with our own. You need to marry a nice Arabic boy.”

  “There is no danger of my wedding Mr. Thomas or any other man. Arab or not.” She’d had offers of marriage from within the Arab community. She’d even briefly entertained one. Nabeel had kind eyes and a generous nature, but he hadn’t come close to tempting Hanna into giving up bonesetting. Which she would have to do. No husband would let her treat half-clothed men. “I’m too old. Besides, I’m wedded to my work.”

  “That won’t keep you warm at night. Every woman needs a husband.”

  “You always say that Cidi was a headache.”

  “True. Your grandfather tired me out. Life with him was not easy. But a woman in this world is nothing without a man.” Citi’s probing gaze stayed on Hanna. “If it’s not the stranger with the blue eyes, then what is bothering you?”

  Hanna debated telling her grandmother everything. Citi was right to be suspicious of Griff, while Hanna was busy obsessing about the man’s physique and warm gazes. “When I was at the hospital—” she began.

  Lucy reappeared. “There’s someone to see you, miss.”

  Hanna rose, relieved by the interruption. “Who is it?”

  “A solicitor. He says it’s a matter of great importance.”

  Hanna’s stomach lurched. Her thoughts immediately flew to Griff. Maybe he sent his solicitor to deliver some sort of warning. Had he already traced the package containing the gold ring back to her? Would he accuse Hanna of having stolen goods?

  She removed her soiled apron. “Did you show him to the parlor?”

  “Yes, miss. Shall I serve tea?”

  “No tea.” Citi’s assessing gaze clung to Hanna like a heavy mantle. “What does he want? Does it have to do with why you are worried?”

  “How would I know what he wants?” Hanna smoothed a nervous hand down her bodice. “I suppose I should go and find out.”

  The solicitor stood by the bow window in the front parlor. Thin and rumpled, what little remained of his hair ran askew atop his head. He was not the type of solicitor Hanna expected the Quality to employ.

  “Are you Miss Hanna Zaydan?”

  Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear her own answer. “Yes, I am.”

  “Good day. I am Mr. White. I am settling the estate of Mrs. Claudia Lockhart.”

  “What?” Relief rolled through Hanna. This visit had nothing to do with Griff. “Oh. I see. But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Mrs. Lockhart had no children.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “She left something to you.”

  “She did? I wasn’t aware that Mrs. Lockhart had anythi
ng to bequeath to anyone.”

  “Mr. Lockhart, her late husband, purchased the building that houses the grocery.”

  “I had no idea that Mrs. Lockhart owned the building.”

  “She did. She left the building to her nephew. He will receive the rents from the two apartments located above the shop.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. White, I fail to see what any of this has to do with me. Mrs. Lockhart was a neighbor and one-time patient, but we were not particularly well acquainted.”

  “Well, you must have made an impression on her. Although the building belongs to the nephew now, Mrs. Lockhart stipulated that you should have use of the ground-floor shop space.”

  “Me?” Hanna pressed a hand flat against her chest. “Whatever for? I am a bonesetter, Mr. White. I have no interest in operating a grocer’s shop.”

  “She wanted you to have that space, free of rent, to set up your dispensary.”

  “My dispensary?” Her mouth fell open. “Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely. I drew up the will quite recently.”

  “She wanted me to use the space for free? For how long?”

  “As long as you wish to operate a dispensary that sees to the medical needs of this community, including the less fortunate. If you wish to run a dispensary for the next twenty years, it is your prerogative to do so.”

  Tears stung her eyes. What a generous gesture! And from a woman Hanna hadn’t spent a great deal of time with. “I can hardly believe it.”

  He withdrew something from his pocket. “Here is the key.”

  Still in disbelief, Hanna stared at the brass skeleton key.

  “Of course, you do not have to accept the offer.” He began to withdraw his proffered hand.

  “Oh no. I’ll take it.” Hanna reached for the key. “Thank you. I absolutely accept Mrs. Lockhart’s generous offer.”

  She grinned as the reality set in. “I’m going to open my own dispensary.”

  Two days after his encounter with Hanna at the hospital, Griff examined the green sign with black lettering above the bow window. Lockhart Grocers. He’d just called at Hanna’s residence. Her maid directed him down the street to this corner shop on the same block.