The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London Book 4)

by Adele Clee

  Lady Cornell!

  As well as having an obsession with gothic novels, Lady Cornell had taken to inventing fairy stories. “Don’t presume to know me. You don’t have the first clue what I want or need.”

  The harpy — for the labels ravenous and predatory did most certainly apply in this case — moistened her lips as her hungry eyes scanned his bare chest. “Oh, thou dost protest too much. Now lie back and let me show you why we belong together.”

  Vane shook his head. Why the hell was he still sitting in bed with this woman? He threw back the coverlet and came to his feet.

  “How in the devil’s name did you get in here?”

  A smile touched her lips as her gaze shot to his cock. “Impressive. Let me see what I can do to get his attention.” She came up on her knees and palmed her full breasts. “Come to bed, Vane. I did not come here to talk.”

  “I shall ask again. Who let you in?”

  He strode over to the chair, grabbed his breeches and thrust his legs inside swiftly. Sometimes his cock had a mind of his own, and while flaccid now, he’d not give this woman even a twitch of encouragement.

  “No one. I simply broke a pane of glass in the door leading to the servants’ entrance, reached inside and turned the key.”

  “Then I shall be sure to send your husband the bill.” Vane found his shirt and dragged it over his head.

  Unperturbed, Lady Cornell stretched out in the middle of his bed, her legs spread wide in invitation. “I know you’ve not bedded another lady since you returned from Italy.”

  “And how could you possibly know that?” Vane considered how he might get her out of his house without using force.

  She giggled. “Oh, please tell me you’re teasing. Surely you know that your conquests compare notes. How else would I know that you have a fetish for dominance? That you like it hard and rough.”

  “I fear you have been ill informed on both counts.”

  Her confident smile faltered. “You mean you don’t have a preference when it comes to dalliances in the bedchamber?”

  “I mean I have no need to slake my lust for I am already satisfied beyond measure. And what I choose to do in any aspect of my life is no concern of yours.” Vane rounded the bed, scooped up the pile of clothes on the floor and threw them at her. “I shall wait outside while you dress.”

  He had almost reached the door when Lady Cornell made an odd mewling sound. “So you have taken up with that strumpet from the apothecary shop. I did not include her in your conquests as it is clear she is of a different class. It’s amazing what a shilling can purchase these days.”

  Vane stopped and clenched his teeth. He was a man who cared nothing for other people’s opinions. Yet he would not permit anyone to slander Estelle Darcy.

  “That lady has more dignity and grace in her little finger than you could ever hope to possess. And when it comes to you, Lady Cornell, do you honestly think I would entertain the woman who played a part in my sister’s ruination?”

  Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “Your sister’s ruination? Why would you think I had anything to do with that?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Did you not tell your husband that we were intimate?”

  Guilt flashed in her eyes. “I did not tell him directly. I … I might have mentioned to a few gossipmongers that you admired me, that you had suggested I be your mistress.”

  “To make him jealous?”

  She shook her head. “No! In the hope you might warm to the idea and make the offer. But in any event, was Lord Martin not to blame for what happened to your sister?”

  This woman thought she had all the answers, thought it was all a silly game.

  “Your husband believed your tales and blackmailed Lord Martin to ruin my sister, purely as a means to hurt me.”

  Lady Cornell appeared genuinely shocked. She gathered the bedsheets up to her chest to cover her modesty and sat there with slumped shoulders as the gravity of what she had done brought tears to her eyes.

  “Had I known my husband was capable of such a vile thing I would never have said anything. It was just gossip. I didn’t know anyone would get hurt.”

  “When it comes to deception, there is always a victim.”

  A tense silence filled the room.

  Vane’s thoughts drifted to the countless times Lillian had cried in his arms. No lady should have to deal with such heartbreak. And what of Estelle: the smuggler’s lackey, the injured maid? She had borne her shame better than most — with a disguise and a level of acceptance he admired.

  Lady Cornell suddenly gasped. “What if I was seen coming here?”

  “Then your husband will soon learn of it and perhaps I may get the opportunity to punish him for what he’s done.” Vane pushed the thought from his mind. Cornell was weak and cowardly, and would never challenge him to a duel.

  She blinked rapidly. “Do you want me to tell him? Do you want an opportunity to seek revenge? I will do anything for you, you know that.”

  What he wanted was to take Estelle and go far away from these hypocritical fools. Yes, the burning need for vengeance still flowed through his veins, but revenge did not keep a man warm at night. And after shooting Lord Martin, Vane knew that satisfaction was fleeting.

  “I don’t care what you do. But you need to leave.” He gestured to the mound of material. “Get dressed, and I shall escort you out. I trust you’ve brought your carriage. If not, I shall rouse my coachman.”

  She nodded. “Yes, my carriage is waiting in the mews.”

  Vane thrust his feet into his boots and left the room. He paced the hall to distract his mind. Lady Cornell finally emerged. Her mussed locks hung about her shoulders and she looked like she’d been tumbled in a haystack.

  “Are you certain you don’t want me to warm your bed?” she said in a seductive lilt. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  How many times must he explain his lack of interest? “For fear of sounding like Lady Hamilton’s parrot, I think you know the answer.”

  They descended the stairs and took the door from the hall that led down to the servants’ quarters.

  “I’m afraid there’s glass on the floor,” she said as they approached the back door.

  “I shall have someone clean it up in the morning.”

  “Will you not carry me to safety?”

  “Certainly not.”

  They dodged the fragments of broken glass. Vane escorted her to the waiting carriage. Merely because he wanted to ensure she didn’t hide in the broom cupboard and sneak upstairs while he slept.

  He opened the door, and she stopped before him. “I’m sorry for whatever pain Cornell has caused. With any luck, he is not long for this world, and then we can both celebrate.” Without warning, she kissed him on the cheek.

  A gasp from behind drew Vane’s attention.

  Another figure approached — smaller in height and frame. The woman had the hood of her black cloak raised, the gold lining framing her face like a halo.

  She stepped closer, the light from the coach lamp illuminating her features.

  “Estelle? What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you this evening.” Why was it his tone carried a guilty edge when he had done nothing wrong?

  “I … I came because I had something important to say that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “Then come inside.”

  Lady Cornell gave a sly snigger.

  Estelle looked at him, pain swimming in her eyes. “No. It’s not important now. It can wait until another time.” She noted Lady Cornell’s state of dishabille. She looked at his open shirt hanging out of his breeches. And then she swung around, picked up her skirts and ran.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Estelle, wait!”

  She could hear the clip of Ross’ boots on the cobblestones. He would catch her, of that she was certain. Still, she would not make it easy for him, and so she pressed on even though she w
anted to crumple to the ground and sob until there were no more tears left to shed.

  Perhaps she was still suffering after the harrowing events of the day. Perhaps the laudanum Mr Hungerford had used to drug her only added to her feelings of fragility.

  “Estelle!” Ross pleaded. “At least give me a chance to explain.”

  She ignored him, knowing that soon she would have to stop running. The pounding in her head had returned and the tears filling her eyes made it hard to see in the dark.

  Ross grabbed the back of her cloak and swung her around to face him. She slipped on the damp cobblestones. One knee buckled, but she did not fall.

  “Hold on to me.” Ross’ muscular arm slid around her waist, and he pulled her to his chest. “You should not have left your bed.”

  “Why? Because you wish I’d not caught you cavorting with Lady Cornell?”

  “I was not cavorting with Lady Cornell.”

  “Then why did she kiss you? Why are you both half-dressed?” Her tone conveyed anger and disappointment, and yet being held by him was so comforting.

  Damn these confounding contradictions.

  “It is a simple misunderstanding. If you come inside, I shall explain.”

  Lady Cornell’s carriage rattled past. She watched them from the window, a smug grin playing on her face.

  “Look at her,” Estelle snapped. “The lady looks thoroughly satisfied to me.”

  Ross dropped his arm, and she felt the loss instantly. “Do you honestly think I would entertain that woman while paying court to you?”

  It was a trick question.

  If she revealed her doubts and fears, she was admitting she didn’t trust him. Life in France had given her cause to trust no one. And yet, she desperately wanted to believe the best of him.

  “I don’t know what to think, but I know what I saw.” For some bizarre reason, she wanted to be angry with him, too.

  Ross took hold of her upper arms, not as firm as Philipe Robard had done, but in a gentle way that spoke of affection. “You saw a man roused from his bed by a madwoman intent on seduction. You saw me escort her to the carriage to ensure she did not return.”

  “You must have invited her inside. You must have given her some indication that her efforts would be rewarded.”

  Ross glanced up at the night sky and thrust his hands through his hair. “God, the woman needs no encouragement, and she happened to force her way into my house. Take a look at the broken door if you don’t believe me.”

  Surprisingly, she did believe him. In her heart, she knew he would never lie to her. And yet her faith in him only served to accentuate the depths of her own deceit.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she said with a resigned sigh as she took a step back. “It was foolish of me to come.”

  “What possessed you to walk the streets alone at this time of night? This is not a smugglers’ haven. Mrs Erstwhile would have a fit of apoplexy if she knew.”

  “Mr Erstwhile brought me here in a hackney cab, but I asked that he leave me just outside the square.”

  Mr Erstwhile had caught her sneaking downstairs. She couldn’t lie to him and had revealed her plan to visit Ross. He was not her father and could not forbid it, but having his respect and approval meant the world to her.

  “Are you telling me he permitted you to come to a gentleman’s home in the middle of the night?”

  Mr Erstwhile was an advocate of true love. He was a man who rose above petty judgements, a man disillusioned with Society’s rigid rules. She’d told him she loved Ross with all her heart and that was a justifiable reason for her to come.

  “For a wise man, he can be extremely naive,” Ross added.

  He could say what he liked about anyone else, but she would not stand for him belittling Mr Erstwhile.

  “I think you’ll find he is exactly the opposite. Everything he says and does is based on experience and sound judgement. His motives are free from jealousy and spite, unlike your father.”

  The last few words fell from her lips without thought.

  “Unlike my father?” Ross blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  Estelle bit back a curse. She had come to tell him everything, purely because she wanted tomorrow to be a new day, a fresh start. Now she was not so sure.

  “Just that some men act in their own best interests regardless of the cost.”

  “And you think my father one of those men?” His frown conveyed suspicion.

  She turned away from him. “I must go. The cab will be waiting.” The hackney had taken Mr Erstwhile back to Whitecombe Street. The gentleman assumed Ross would convey her home. “One lady has kept you from your bed. I should hate to do the same.”

  “Then why come?” Ross grabbed her arm to prevent her hasty retreat. “Did leaving Prescott Hall have something to do with my father?”

  Estelle tried to tug her arm free, but without warning, Ross grabbed her around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder.

  “What on earth are you doing? Put me down.”

  “Forgive my masterful approach, but you will come inside, and we will have it out.”

  She knew what he meant by the comment, but still, images of them writhing naked in his bed flashed into her mind.

  “Then put me down and let me walk.”

  “No.” A large hand settled on her buttocks as he held her in place. He strode through the door leading from the mews to the garden. “For eight long, painful years you have left me in the dark. But it stops here, tonight.” He marched through the broken door, fragments of glass crunching beneath his feet. “You will tell me exactly why you ran, why you left me and permitted me to believe you were dead.”

  She tried to wriggle free, but one strong arm held her there.

  “I think I have been more than patient, Estelle.”

  His boots clipped on the marble floor as he stormed through the hall. Estelle expected him to turn into the drawing room, but he headed for the stairs.

  The butler appeared, his clothes a touch less than perfect. “Is everything all right, my lord. I heard raised voices.”

  “Go to bed, Marley. Everything is in hand.”

  “Y-yes. Good night, my lord.”

  Ross mounted the stairs with ease, marched into his chamber and locked the door. Four long strides and he was at the bed. He threw her down onto the mattress and stood above her.

  “Now,” he began, drawing his shirt over his head. “You will answer my questions. I think after all that has occurred you owe me your cooperation.”

  Estelle nodded. She might have formed a reply, but her hungry eyes feasted on the muscular planes of his chest. The rippling muscles in his abdomen made her mouth water. As did the enticing line of dark hair drawing her eyes to a point below the waistband of his breeches.

  “Let us get a few quick questions out of the way first. I’m told that is the best way to discover the truth.” He threw his shirt onto the chair behind him. “Did you ever love me?” He reached for her leg, unlaced her boot, tugged it off and let it fall to the floor.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I loved you with all my heart. I swear to you that is the truth.”

  Ross removed the other boot. “Did you leave Prescott Hall under duress?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  From the sudden rise and fall of his chest, his breath came quickly now.

  “Did you want to marry me?” He took hold of her foot, his hands venturing up under her dress to undo the ribbon on her stocking.

  “Yes,” she whispered as his warm hand settled on her bare thigh and rolled the stocking down to her ankle. As he removed it, he bent his head, kissed and nipped her toes. Heat flooded her body, burned in her core.

  “Will you permit me to make love to you again?” He repeated the process with her other stocking, his heated gaze searing into her as he sucked the tip of each toe. “Right here. Right now.”

  “You know I will,” she panted.

  With a wild, sinful look in his eyes,
he stared at her while unbuttoning his breeches. “Loving you has never been a problem for me. Trusting you, on the other hand, has proved infinitely more difficult.”

  “I understand.”

  With an arrogant grin, he pushed his breeches off his hips to reveal his solid shaft. Heavens above. Her nipples ached at the sight. The pulses in her intimate place grew more profound.

  “Then you will answer the next question honestly. But first, believe me when I tell you that you’re the only woman I have pleasured these last two years.” He took her hands and brought her to her feet. “You’re the only woman I will pleasure until the day you say you no longer want me.”

  “That will never happen.”

  After removing her cloak, Ross turned her around and unthreaded the ties on her dress. Once undone, his hands settled on her shoulders, and he pushed the garment free until it fell to the floor. He did the same with her petticoat.

  She wore front-fastening stays and so he would need to turn her back to face him. Instead, he stood behind her, the heat of his body penetrating the thin fabric. His hands traced the curve of her hips and the fullness of her breasts as he pressed his erection against her buttocks.

  “Do you like that, Estelle?”

  “Yes.” Her body ached for him, craved that which she had been denied for so long.

  “Later, you can tell me what my father did to make you doubt me,” Ross said, pressing his lips to her neck, nipping the sensitive spot with his teeth, gently sucking. “You can tell me the reason you felt you couldn’t speak to me.”

  Ross drew her round to face him, proceeded to work on her stays, tugging at the ties, pulling them free, watching her with a hot, intense gaze that made her knees weak. Her breasts jiggled as he continued with his ministrations. The sensual curve of his lips forced her to swallow hard.

  Once he’d freed her of her stays, he stepped back. “Remove your chemise.”

  She wasn’t sure she had the strength to lift the flimsy garment.

  “Do it slowly. Tease me, Estelle. Reveal yourself to me in such a way that I can barely contain my excitement.”