The Viscount Made Me Do It

by Diana Quincy

  Griff rose. “Very well.”

  Norman watched him carefully. “Very well what? We are agreed that you will not see her?”

  “It is past time for me to stop taking advantage of your kindness.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m moving out.”

  Norman shot to his feet. “Don’t be ridiculous. Where are you going? Do you mean to set up house with that woman?”

  He headed for the door. “No, I am going home.”

  “To Bell Cottage, out in the country?” Norman followed him. “You’re leaving London?”

  Griff paused. Turning to face his former guardian, he set a hand on Norman’s shoulder. “I thank you for your care of me. I shall be forever grateful. But the moment has come for me to stand on my own. We both know it’s long overdue.”

  “But where will you go?”

  “I am returning home to Cavendish Square. It’s time to reopen Haven House.”

  “Still nothing. No one who paid for your father’s services with jewelry.”

  Hanna looked up from the latest ledger containing Baba’s patient records. “There are plenty of more files to go through.”

  She and Griff decided to meet at the dispensary to continue going through the ledgers. Both were eager to escape Citi’s critical gaze now that she’d returned from visiting her cousin.

  He set a ledger aside. Hanna was acutely aware of Griff’s every move, every breath, every sigh. It would be easy to get carried away but for Lucy, who was sitting out front in one of the waiting chairs near the entrance.

  “It would help if we knew when your father received the jewels,” Griff said.

  “But we don’t know how long he had them.” Hanna turned the page, continuing her examination. “So we need to go through all of the records in the time period between your parents’ deaths up until my father died.”

  Griff nodded. “Your father could have received the jewels at any time in those intervening years.” He tossed the ledger beside him on the examining table where he was sitting. “But I’m afraid we’ll need to take this up again tomorrow, if you are available.”

  “You’re leaving?” Disappointment lashed through her. “So soon?”

  “I’m afraid so. It’s moving day for me.”

  Her stomach dropped. “You’re leaving London?”

  “No, just Dr. Pratt’s house.”

  “You are?”

  “It is time,” he said briskly.

  “It’s because of the interview you gave to the medical journal, isn’t it?” Hanna disliked Griff’s former guardian, but she understood that he was Griff’s only real family because his sisters chose not to be in his life. “I am sorry if this has caused a rift between you.”

  “Don’t be. It is past time that I returned to Haven House.”

  “Haven House?”

  “My family home . . . erm . . . my townhome in Mayfair. I am used to regarding it as my parents’ house. But it is mine and has been for more than a decade. It is time to reclaim my heritage.”

  “If you have your own house here, why do you stay with Dr. Pratt when you are in London?”

  He grimaced. “Both Haven House and Ashby Manor, our country seat, were closed up after the murders. I couldn’t bear the thought of returning to places where I’d once been so happy.”

  She followed him out of the office to the main floor. “Why don’t you see your sisters more often?” Hanna saw her own family all the time. Far too much. She often felt like she couldn’t get a moment alone. “You could be a comfort to each other.”

  His jaw tensed. “As I mentioned previously, it wasn’t my choice. In any case, my things are being taken over to Haven House as we speak, so I must go.”

  The bell over the door sounded. Evan came in carrying a package. “Another delivery. More supplies. Someone left it outside.”

  “Evan, you remember Lord Griffin,” Hanna said.

  Evan and Griff faced each other. “Yes, of course.” Evan bowed. “Good afternoon.”

  “Hello.” Griff’s icy gaze traveled over him. “Are you here for an appointment?”

  Evan flashed his teeth. “No, indeed. We are not seeing patients yet.”

  “We?”

  “Dr. Bridges is my partner,” Hanna said. “We shall be working together once we open the dispensary.”

  “I hadn’t realized.” Griff wasn’t pleased. “And your grandmother approves?”

  “Of course not. She also did not approve of my treating you, either, but I am hoping to nudge her along.”

  “I see.” Griff kept his gaze on Evan, who returned it, unblinking.

  “Griff,” Hanna said, “you mentioned that you must leave, did you not?”

  “Yes, I must.” He spared Evan one final glance. “Good day.”

  Evan peered through the bow window, watching Griff head down the street. “How much do you know about that man?”

  “I’m not sure what you are getting at.” Hanna started unpacking books she’d brought from Baba’s office to the dispensary. “You know he’s a former patient.”

  Evan’s brows lifted. “And that is all?”

  “Is this an interrogation?” she asked lightly. Hanna didn’t know how to fully answer Evan’s question. She wasn’t going to mention the jewelry.

  “I made some inquiries. Do you still wish to rearrange the examining tables?”

  “Yes, I think so.” She watched him push the patient table. “What sort of inquiries?”

  “I asked about the man and his reputation. How’s this?”

  She surveyed the positioning. “Maybe move it a bit more to the left. You made inquiries into Lord Griffin?” She set down the book in her hand. “And? What did you learn?”

  “His parents were murdered.”

  “He told me.”

  Evan shifted the table to the left. “Did he also tell you that it was a brutal knife attack? That they fought for their lives?”

  “No.” She shivered. “Naturally, he wouldn’t go into that kind of detail. It’s hardly a subject for polite conversation.”

  “Perhaps he prefers not to speak of it because most of society believes he committed the murders.”

  “What?” She gave an incredulous huff. “That’s ridiculous. He was just a boy.”

  “Fifteen years old. Young certainly, but not a child.” Evan straightened and surveyed the examining table. “Griffin claimed that he slept through the attacks. That he saw and heard nothing. Even though it was clear that the parents did not go quietly.”

  “If my brothers are any indication, boys that age can sleep through just about anything.”

  “There was no sign of forced entry. No broken windows or doors. The servants told the magistrate that the doors and windows were always locked before the household retired for the evening.”

  “You are saying it was someone who was in the house at the time who was responsible? What about the servants?”

  Evan gestured toward the table. “Good?”

  She nodded. “Perfect.”

  “Most of the servants were off. One of the footmen was getting married in the village, and the staff had a few hours’ leave to attend the festivities. The only member of the staff who was home that night was a housekeeper. She didn’t hear anything. Her quarters were far away from the family wing. A woman alone could hardly attack and kill two people who fought back. There wasn’t a scratch on her. But the same couldn’t be said for your viscount.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There were fresh scratches on his back. He claimed he’d brushed up against some tree branches.”

  “It seems like you’d get more than some scratches on the back if you attacked and killed two people with a knife.”

  “You certainly are an ardent defender of the man.”

  She looked away. “It is ghastly to assume a boy could kill his own parents in such a terrible way.”

  “I just thought you should know.”

  “It sounds like you w
ent to a great deal of trouble to learn vile gossip about Lord Griffin.”

  “He seems to be coming around you a great deal.”

  Hanna declined to give Evan the details into their examination of the records. “We have some unfinished business. That is all. Once this matter is concluded, Lord Griffin will return to Mayfair, and you and I shall be here, treating patients.”

  “Considering the way that man ogles at you, I doubt you will be rid of him so easily.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He does no such thing.”

  “If you say so.”

  She studied Evan. His color was high. “What is the matter with you?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Evan said lightly as he shifted the second examining table.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Have you hired a valet, my lord?” Wright, the butler, asked Griff.

  Griff surveyed his father’s bedchamber. His bedchamber now. The wardrobe that had appeared massive to Griff as a boy no longer seemed so. The familiar four-poster bed certainly wasn’t as enormous as in his memory. His eyes locked on the burgundy paisley canopy. “Have you changed the bed coverings?”

  “Certainly, my lord. The others were quite old.”

  “Of course.” In Griff’s mind, Haven House had frozen in time, unchanged from the moment fourteen years ago when he and his parents departed for a few unexpected days in the country. He inhaled the clean scent of lemon and beeswax and felt the warmth of the late-afternoon sun filtering through the windows.

  For years, he’d put off returning to this place where some of his fondest family memories were enshrined. But the house didn’t feel like a mausoleum. To his surprise, it still felt like home. “And no, I don’t have a valet.”

  “Would you like me to advertise for one, my lord? In the meantime, I can assign a footman to assist you.”

  “Could you send Felix?” he asked, recalling the favorite footman of his youth. “He is available, is he not? I saw him the other afternoon.”

  “Certainly, my lord.” He paused. “I did not assemble the staff to greet you upon your official return to Haven House. I thought you might prefer to decide when to address the staff. When you are ready, that is.”

  Normally, whenever Griff’s father had returned from the country, the staff would line up in the front hall to greet him. Griff was relieved Wright hadn’t gathered the servants. Just being back at Haven House was overwhelming enough.

  “Yes, thank you, and Felix will do nicely,” Griff said. “It will be good to have a familiar face around.”

  “You will find, my lord, that there are several members of your staff who remember you with great fondness and are eager to welcome you home.”

  It never occurred to Griff that he might be missed by his father’s servants. His staff now. What would it have been like to return home to Haven House directly after the murders? At the time, he’d been drowning in grief and guilt. Maybe being home would have helped. Maybe his sisters would still be in his life.

  His gaze caught on the closed door that led to Mama’s adjoining chamber. “And the viscountess’s rooms? Have they also been changed?”

  “Yes, my lord. The housekeeper replaced the bed coverings and upholstery.”

  He walked over and put his hand on the brass door handle. Pausing, he took a deep breath. Then he turned the knob and pulled open the door to his childhood.

  He’d spent a great deal of time in this bedchamber. Playing on the floor while his mother dressed. Cuddling in bed with both of his parents whenever he escaped Nurse in the middle of the night after a bad dream.

  Mother’s dressing table was still here. But the lotions and hairbrushes that used to neatly line its mirrored surface were long gone. Griff looked for the stuffed chair by the window. Papa’s chair. It was still there but was covered in a new fabric. One with birds.

  “Birds.”

  “Indeed, my lord. Mrs. Tanner and I thought it might be an appropriate way to honor the viscountess.”

  “Mrs. Tanner? The housekeeper? Is she still here?”

  “No, my lord. She left to serve Lady Dorcas several years ago.”

  “She works for my sister now?”

  “Yes, my lord. Mrs. Tanner said the house was far too quiet after . . .” Wright didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

  Griff opened the wardrobe. It was empty. “My mother’s things?”

  “The Ladies Maria, Winifred and Dorcas came a few weeks after . . . the tragedy . . . and they sorted through everything.”

  “My sisters were here?”

  “Yes, my lord. They took what they wanted and distributed the rest. They were most generous with the staff.”

  They hadn’t asked Griff to join them? Because they blame you. He swallowed. Griff couldn’t fault them for wanting nothing to do with him. But Dorcas’s defection stung the most. He was closest to her. They were just four years apart. Maria and Winifred were much older.

  “Except for the family jewels,” Wright added. “Naturally, those remain in the family safe. They belong to your future viscountess and to future holders of the title.”

  “And my father’s things?” Griff closed the wardrobe door. “Did Maria, Winifred and Dorcas dispose of those as well?”

  “No, my lord. Your sisters asked that his lordship’s things be boxed up and put aside for you to dispose of as you saw fit.” Wright cleared his throat. “Naturally, we did not expect you to stay away so long.”

  “I’ve clearly been remiss.” Griff had been so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn’t realized there were people depending upon him. Maybe it was time he stopped disappointing them. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the butler. “I am here now. And I intend to see to my duties.”

  Wright’s eyes lit up. “Very good, my lord.” He bowed and walked toward the door. He paused and turned back to Griff. “If I may say, my lord, how pleased we are to have you back with us at last.”

  “Thank you, Wright.” Griff surveyed Mama’s chamber. Her presence lingered. He could almost smell her perfume. “It is good to finally be home.” To Griff’s surprise, he meant it. “And, Wright?”

  The butler paused. “My lord?”

  “Please assemble the staff. I’ll meet them in the front hall in a quarter of an hour.”

  Hanna was in the back office at the dispensary examining Baba’s records when the bell over the front door sounded. Her spirits lifted. It must be Griff. He’d stayed away for three days.

  “I’ll be right there,” she called out, moving at a fast clip, straightening her bodice and shaking out her skirts. She wasn’t expecting anyone else. Evan was busy seeing patients at his old office.

  “I was wondering where—” She stumbled to a halt. Citi and her brothers Rafi and Elias stood in the middle of the dispensary. “Oh, hello.”

  “What were you wondering?” Rafi asked.

  “I was wondering . . . who it was.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “You sounded pretty cheerful,” Rafi observed.

  Elias pursed his lips as he took in his surroundings. “This seems like a real clinic.”

  “It should,” she responded. “That’s exactly what it is.”

  “Very nice.” Rafi hopped onto an examining table. “Did you really learn enough from Baba to be able to fix patients on your own?”

  “I apprenticed with Baba for more than a decade, since I was eleven.” Hanna kept her gaze on Citi as the old woman shuffled about the space, taking everything in. “I was by his side for practically every patient.”

  Citi passed a hand over the examining table across from the one Rafi sat on. “The whole time Ali was teaching you how to be a bonesetter?”

  “Yes.” Hanna leaned her hips against the table next to Rafi. “He said I had a natural talent for it.”

  “Your Baba told us you were just playing.” Citi paused to examine the jars and instruments laid out atop the commode table.
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br />   “I know.” Hanna crossed her arms over her chest, her nerves taut. “He said we should keep it a secret because you and Mama didn’t approve.”

  “But the entire time you were watching and learning.” Citi pulled the top drawer of the commode table open and nodded briefly to herself as she scrutinized the neatly stacked clean linens and bandaging. “You were both lying.”

  “Watch out,” Elias murmured as he settled on Hanna’s other side. “She’s going to blow at any moment.” Even as her brothers teased, they’d lined up on either side of Hanna, silently bolstering her.

  The muscles across the back of Hanna’s shoulders tightened. She’d never explicitly asked for her family’s blessing to move forward with opening the dispensary. It would be harder for them to object once the clinic was open. She didn’t want to give them the opportunity to forbid it.

  It was a gamble. But she’d thought it through. At twenty-six, she was a spinster. Over the years, offers from eligible Arab men had dwindled. Citi and Mama couldn’t seriously expect her to make a decent match at her age. They could focus on marrying off her younger sister, Fiona Kate, while Hanna ran her dispensary.

  “Baba was just trying to keep the peace,” Hanna said to Citi.

  “And you?” For the first time since entering the dispensary, Citi looked her granddaughter square in the eyes. “What were you doing?”

  “At least you’re faster than her,” Rafi said under his breath. “If you decide to run.”

  Hanna felt like a hundred fluttering butterflies were trapped inside her chest. “When I was fifteen, Baba allowed me to start treating some of the patients while he supervised. I learned it is my destiny to be a bonesetter.” She winced as she finished the sentence that could truly set Citi off.

  A muffled sound of shock came from Elias’s throat. “Now you’ve done it. It’s a good thing she can’t slip off her shoe fast enough to launch it at you.”

  They’d spent their childhoods trying to evade Citi’s and Mama’s flying slippers. Both women showed excellent precision when it came to aiming their airborne shoes at whichever child showed disrespect or broke a rule. Adding to the indignity, the offender would then have to return the shoe to its owner and risk getting hit again, only this time at close range.