by Diana Quincy
“Would you?”
“Hurry, Mama.” William tugged his mother’s hand, practically dragging her to the door.
“Perhaps, Griffin, if we could just—” She was practically pleading.
“Good day.” He did not look at his sister. Did not watch her and his nephew open the door to depart. When he heard the door shut, Griff closed his eyes and exhaled a long and shaky breath. He clutched the back of a chair in the waiting area as if he needed the support to stay upright.
Hanna knew she should keep her distance. But he seemed so alone that she went to him, putting her hand on his arm. “So, that is your sister.”
“Yes.” He slipped into a chair.
Hanna’s chest constricted at his pained expression. She sat beside him. “She seemed happy to see you.”
He looked dazed. “She did, didn’t she?”
“She was clearly emotional. Hers was not the behavior of a woman who does not care.”
“Stop.” Griff put up his hand. “I barely survived my sisters’ desertion the first time. I don’t think I could live through it again.”
Hanna persisted. “I don’t think she came to see me by chance. She was asking about you before you arrived.”
“I honestly don’t have it in me to discuss Dorcas any longer. I’m here about Gerard Loder.”
“The man who gave your mother’s jewelry to my father?” She let the issue of his sister drop. “What about him?”
“He’s a fence, according to the runner I engaged. He got the necklace and ring from a man named Leonard Palk.”
“And who is Leonard Palk?”
“My runner is looking into that as we speak.”
“We might be getting closer.”
“I hope so.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “There is another matter.”
“What is it?”
“My father kept a journal.”
“Does it have any helpful information?”
“That’s just it. I do not know. The journal is probably at Ashby Manor. The place where . . . my parents were killed.” He shuddered. “I haven’t been back since.”
“Is there something specific you are hoping to find in the journal?” she asked gently.
“My father met with Norman the day before we left for the country. The two had words. Norman insinuated the argument had to do with my father’s infidelity.”
“Do you think that is true?” She didn’t know the first thing about Griff’s father, but she questioned the doctor’s trustworthiness.
“I don’t want to believe my father had a mistress. He kept a journal. Maybe that will clarify why he made an unexpected trip to the country.”
“If your father was unfaithful, would he really write something like that down in his journal?”
“Probably not.” He exhaled long and slow. “But Norman is withholding information. He seems to be protecting my father’s memory. That leads me to wonder whether Father was mixed up in something that led to his death.”
“It appears you’ll have no peace until you go to Ashby Manor and find the journal.”
“I’m not sure I am up to it. To be honest, I dread returning there.”
“Perhaps you will find that it is like Haven House. You have a childhood’s worth of good memories at Ashby. Maybe that will help balance the bad recollections. You are a grown man now. No longer a hurt and confused child.”
He exhaled. “I will think on it.” He looked at her. Hanna realized they were seated entirely too close together, their faces barely a foot apart. “It is good to see you. To be able to talk things through with you. There are few people with whom I can speak openly.”
He seemed so alone in that moment that Hanna reached for his hand. “I will always be your friend,” she promised. Griff had few true friends. She would not abandon him the way his sisters had. No matter how painful it was to be with him and know he’d soon be wed to Lady Winters.
Staring down at their hands, he interlocked his fingers with hers. “I miss touching you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of his hands entwined with hers. “I miss being touched by you,” she admitted, even though she shouldn’t. “But we mustn’t. It’s dishonorable when you are bound to another.”
“I am not bound to Selina yet. She said she does not consider herself bound to me and that I should feel the same.” He stroked Hanna’s hand. Warmth swirled along her skin. “That might change after Selina and I meet in a few weeks, but for now I am technically a free man.”
She gently withdrew her fingers. “But only technically,” she said softly.
“Unfortunately.” He let her go, his touch lingering on her fingers as she slid them out of his hand.
The bell above the door sounded. The man who entered appeared to be in his fifties. He wore an old-fashioned plain amber tailcoat and blue trousers.
Hanna rose. The sensation of having her hand held in Griff’s lingered. “Good day.”
“Are you Mrs. Zaydan?”
“I am.”
“I am Samuel Lockhart.”
“Are you a relation to Mrs. Lockhart?”
He gave a sharp nod. “Mr. Lockhart was my uncle.”
“How do you do?” she said warmly. “I am sorry for the loss of your aunt. How may I be of assistance?”
“You may assist me by shutting your doors and delivering this property back to me, the rightful owner.”
Hanna blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Griff came to his feet as well, remaining quiet, but silently bolstering her.
“The rent for this property is very valuable,” Mr. Lockhart pointed out.
“I am afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said politely. “The terms of your aunt’s will allow me to operate my dispensary free of charge.”
“Yes, I am aware that my uncle’s wife, a woman without a drop of Lockhart blood in her, left this space for your . . . operation.”
“Then, why are you here?” She didn’t care for his tone.
“I understood you were to be stripped of your right to operate this enterprise of yours yesterday. That you would be forced to cease your exploits, close down and return control of this space to me.”
She wondered where Mr. Lockhart had gotten his information. “You have been misinformed. The commission has made no final decision on the matter.”
“I hope you will do the decent thing and move out as soon as possible. My family and I wish to sell the building.”
Beside her, Hanna could sense Griff itching to intervene. “Then I suggest you sell it with the stipulation that I have the right to use this space for free.”
“Now, see here.” Mr. Lockhart’s chin trembled. “The only reason you are in this building is because you swindled a lonely old lady with a feeble mind.”
Hanna’s neck heated. “I did no such thing. And I am not moving out. Good day, sir.”
“Do you want me to offer you money to leave? How much will it take?”
For a moment, Hanna considered the crass proposal. In all likelihood, she was about to lose her right to practice bonesetting in London. Her cousin Brandon’s intervention had likely only delayed the inevitable. Money from Mr. Lockhart could help Hanna set up a dispensary in Manchester.
But she did not care for the look in Mr. Lockhart’s eyes, the surety in them that she could be bought and sold. Accepting his offer would only confirm his belief that Hanna was nothing but a greedy fraudster who’d cheated his elderly aunt.
“No amount of money is enough to compensate me for the pleasure of doing what I love,” she said. “I hope to be practicing bonesetting in this space until the end of my days.”
“You have no real right to be here and you know it.”
She straightened. “Your aunt gave me the right, and it was hers to give. Not yours.”
“I intend to see my solicitor about this matter.”
“I don’t see how that’s any of my concern,” she replied.
“You wil
l be hearing from me,” he said as he pulled the door open.
“Mr. Lockhart?”
“Yes?” He turned back to her with a smug expression on his face. “Have you decided to accept the money to vacate the premises after all?”
“No, indeed. I was wondering where Mrs. Lockhart was laid to rest. I would like to pay my respects.”
“How should I know?”
“The hospital said that Mrs. Lockhart’s family came for the body.”
“We most certainly did not. Nor did we have any interest in doing so. As I said, Mrs. Lockhart was related to us solely by marriage. Mr. Lockhart was our family. He would have left the building to me outright.” He slammed the door shut behind him as he departed.
“Charming man,” Griff remarked. He noted her pensive expression. “What is it?”
“If the Lockharts didn’t pick up Mrs. Lockhart’s body from the hospital, who did? The matron there told me the family had come for the body. If her family doesn’t have poor Mrs. Lockhart’s remains, then what happened to them?”
“Perhaps someone from Mrs. Lockhart’s own family, and not her husband’s family, saw to the burial.”
“Yes, of course.” Hanna gave a swift nod. “That must be it.”
“For a moment there, I thought you were going to accept his money.”
“I should have. It would be the prudent thing to do. My chances of being able to continue practicing in London are slim.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“It’s out of all of our hands.”
“Not necessarily. We will assemble the people you have helped. Me. Young Annie. Who else have you successfully treated?”
“Laboring-class people, mostly. Shopkeepers, grocers, the occasional solicitor. Nobody, besides you, who might be able to influence the commission.”
“You are forgetting the grandson of an earl.”
“What earl?”
“Dorcas is married to the youngest son of the Earl of Tremayne.”
“Truly?” Hanna marveled at Griff’s revelation. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d never interacted with any of the Quality. Except for Leela, of course. Hanna had yet to even meet Leela’s duke. Now she mingled with aristocrats at fundraisers and healed their children. “It was just a minor dislocation of his finger. Besides, I can hardly ask your sister, a lady, to intervene on my behalf.”
“I can.”
She stared at him. “But you want nothing to do with your sister.”
“True.” His expression was grim. “But if it helps you, I shall go and see Dorcas.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“You aren’t asking.”
“If you insist.” Hanna decided not to argue. Griff should go and see his sister. And all the better if Hanna was the catalyst to bring them together after all these years apart. “How soon can you call on her?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Griffin. You came.” Dorcas rushed into the drawing room. Her cheeks were bright, her expression expectant. “When my butler announced you, I could scarcely believe it.”
Griff absorbed this new version of his sister. Before their chance encounter at Hanna’s dispensary, he’d last seen Dorcas fourteen years ago, when she was nineteen and newly married, the last of his sisters to leave home. The image of her as a radiant young bride remained entrenched in Griff’s mind all these years. The Dorcas before him now was a woman of thirty-three. Her face had filled out. Her figure was more rounded. But she was still the sister he once knew.
“Please sit.” Dorcas settled in a French chair with rounded edges and tapestry fabric. Griff took the matching chair opposite her. They were by a large window that overlooked the back garden where Dorcas’s son William rolled in the grass with a fluffy white Pomeranian.
“How is his finger?” he asked as he watched. His nephew. It hardly seemed real.
“It’s a tad sore. But otherwise he can use it and has no real pain. Your bonesetter is remarkable.”
“Yes, she is.”
“I’m so pleased you’ve come. Tea will be along shortly.”
“This is not exactly a social call.” Griff struggled to keep an even tone. Seeing Dorcas in the flesh after all these years rekindled his frustration with his sisters, stoked the feelings of betrayal and abandonment embedded in the marrow of his bones. “In all honesty, if I didn’t need something from you, I would have avoided this encounter.”
Her face fell. He registered the hurt in her pale blue eyes. Instead of feeling triumphant, guilt panged through him.
“It was never your way to be cruel,” she said softly.
“How would you know?” he said stiffly. “We never knew each other, not really.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head, her eyes catching the light. Like him, she had their mother’s eyes. She also shared Griff’s distinct nose and dark hair, a legacy from their father. An observer might say he and his sister resembled each other. Even though they’d been worlds apart for almost half his life.
“I knew you very well.” Amusement lined Dorcas’s forehead. “I knew all of your hiding places. I knew you used to sneak a cheroot with that footman . . . what was his name?” She considered for a moment then snapped her fingers. “Felix, that’s it. And I also knew that you used to steal away to see Selina. Although I confess I had no idea that you two were—”
“I am not here to reminisce about our childhood.” He couldn’t bear to summon any happy memories. To share any confidences. To remember anything about the time before it all went wrong.
“Whatever your reason for coming, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you.”
The footman came in with an elaborate tea tray. They quieted while he set the plates out and Dorcas scooted forward to pour the tea.
“I seem to recall you were partial to lemon tarts,” Dorcas remarked as she added them to a plate she made for him. She included his favorite sandwiches as well before setting the plate and tea before him. Griff didn’t touch them. His stomach churned. He couldn’t eat.
She settled back with her cup. “You were going to tell me why you’ve come. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here about Miss Zaydan.”
Curiosity blazed in her face. “The bonesetter?”
“Miss Zaydan is to face a commission soon. If they rule against her, she will lose her right to practice bonesetting in London.”
Dorcas examined him closely. Griff shifted in his chair and stared out the window. His sister always did see too much. “I gather you do not wish to see Miss Zaydan leave London? Isn’t she a Levantine?”
“How does that signify?” His head snapped back to focus on his sister.
“It doesn’t. I had heard she was an Arab. I thought that was curious.” She sipped her tea. “I have never met an Arab person before. One conjures up all sorts of images. However, I found her to be very agreeable. And quite capable.”
“She has many positive qualities,” he said gruffly. “I am asking you to attend the commission hearing and give testimony in support of Miss Zaydan.”
“You’d like me to tell them that a bonesetter cured William’s finger when one of the ton’s finest doctors could not? And an immigrant female healer, at that?” Her eyes twinkled. “Imagine the scandal. The ton’s doctors will be in an uproar.”
“She’s not an immigrant. She was born here. Will you do it?”
William bounded in. “I heard the tea was served.” He skidded to a stop by the tea table and snatched up a sandwich. The Pomeranian came in yapping behind him. “Mama, can I have some?” he asked around a bite of food.
She gazed adoringly at her son as she reached down to scratch the dog’s head. “Make your hellos to your Uncle Thomas, and then you may fill your plate.”
“Hullo, Uncle Thomas.” His gaze dropped to Griff’s untouched plate. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“You may have my plate if you’d like,” Griff said.
The boy looked at his mother
, who dipped her chin. He reached for Griff’s plate. “I have to go. I’m going to dig up worms in the garden.”
Griff watched the boy leave. “He doesn’t resemble you.”
“He takes after his father. The Rutland blood is very strong.”
“I wonder,” he said.
“What do you wonder?”
“If you would desert him as readily as you deserted me.”
She paled. “You didn’t want to come live with me.” She set her tea down with trembling hands. “What would you have me do?”
“You and my other sisters wanted nothing to do with me after the murders.”
Her eyes went wide. “That’s a lie,” she said hotly. “I was eager to have you live with me. I hounded Cousin Norman for months.”
“Norman said you were newly married and wanted to concentrate on your new family.”
Dorcas’s nostrils flared. “Is that what he told you? He told us that you were too vulnerable to see us. We wanted you to come with us to go through Mother’s and Father’s things at Haven House a few weeks after the burial. Cousin Norman said you would come. But on the day we were supposed to meet, he sent word that you’d had a very bad day and he didn’t want to further upset you.”
He blinked. “That cannot be true.”
“It most certainly is. We all wanted to get you away from Cousin Norman. But Father appointed him guardian in the will. There was nothing we could do.” Her face darkened. “I was also very young. I should have leveraged the influence of my husband’s family to rescue you from that beastly man.”
“I didn’t know anything about meeting you, Maria and Wini at Haven House.” His breastbone ached. “Nothing would have made me happier than to be with the three of you.”
“You know what this means?” Anger glinted in her gaze. “Cousin Norman lied to you. We were desperate to see you in those early days after the funeral. But Norman said you were too fragile.”
“He told me that the three of you abandoned me because you believed I killed our parents.”
“Never!” she said fiercely. “We never believed that. Ever. We told you as much in our letters. The letters to which you never replied.”
“I received no letters.” Griff lurched to his feet and paced away, wiping a hand down over his mouth and chin. “Is it possible? I don’t know what to believe.”