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

by Adele Clee

  Vane took Lillian by the arms and kissed her on the cheek before she said something to change his mind or questioned him about the past.

  “Why must you always be so stubborn? Why must you feel as though you’re to blame for those things beyond your control?” She sucked in a breath. “What happened to me was not your fault. What happened to Estelle was not your fault, either. Stop blaming yourself and be happy.”

  Vane stepped away. “If you care for me at all, you will support me in this.”

  “Support you? I will stand guard at your back until the day I die.”

  “Then let me go. And promise me you will reassure Estelle that I am doing this for the right reasons.”

  Silence ensued.

  Lillian sighed. It was the sound of surrender.

  She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Then promise me you’ll take care. Promise me you will return to us soon.”

  “I swear it.” Vane kissed her on the temple, then pulled away and climbed back into the boat. “Can you take me back to Branscombe, Mackenzie?”

  “Aye, my lord,” Mackenzie said. The sorrow in the Scot’s voice was nothing to that in Vane’s heart. “Happen I need the exercise if I’m ever to outdo you with the oars.”

  Vane did not look at Lillian as the boat moved away from the pier. He knew she watched him, knew that he had left her with an unbearable task and it was wrong of him. To distract his mind, he took up the spare oars and helped Mackenzie row.

  “Och, there’s no need to offer assistance,” Mackenzie said. “I once rowed the length of the River Tay without even stopping to drain the dragon. Not as fast as you’d do it mind.”

  Vane chuckled. Mackenzie had a way of bringing a man out of the doldrums.

  “You’re welcome to come with me to France,” Vane said, pulling on the oars and propelling them through the water.

  “Had you told me earlier I might have run it past his lordship.” Mackenzie stared at him for a moment. “Not that I’ve taken to prying into other people’s affairs,” he said changing the subject, “but I admire what you’re doing.”

  “I imagine you’re the only one who does.”

  “Have no fear. The lass will understand. I knew the moment you stormed into the castle with a pair of duelling pistols that you were a man who followed his heart no matter the cost.”

  “I’m not entirely sure whether I’m following my heart or my conscience.”

  “If you’re doing it for the lass, then it’s your heart for sure.”

  Vane nodded. “I’ve not had an opportunity to thank you.”

  Mackenzie chuckled. “We’re not on dry land yet. I may still dive overboard and take a dip if the urge takes me.”

  “I mean for having the sense to notice that the woman in Paris bore a striking resemblance to Miss Darcy. Had you pushed it from your mind we would not be here today.”

  Fate again, Vane thought.

  “His lordship always brought her picture out whenever his mind was hazy with drink. And a good job he did, too. The lass’ image is ingrained in my memory.”

  “Then we’ll drink to that when I return. Make sure the men save at least one cask of ale for me.”

  Mackenzie shook his head. “For you, I’d promise most things, but I cannot promise that.”

  “What made you want to purchase a castle?” Estelle gripped her brother’s hand as he led her through the bailey and into the great hall. She stared up at the array of weapons on the wall, at the long table stretching the length of the dais. “I can’t help but feel as though I have been transported back in time.”

  “It suits me to live here with the men,” Fabian said. “And I cannot abide the hypocrisy of London Society.” He sighed. “I’m grateful Lillian loves it here, too.”

  Estelle glanced back over her shoulder, wondering when Ross and Lillian would appear. She supposed they had plenty to discuss. At some point he would have to tell her about the depth of their father’s betrayal.

  “Ross said you married for love. I cannot tell you how happy I am for you, Fabian.”

  “Lillian is a remarkable woman. She is everything I ever wanted.” Fabian brought Estelle’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You cannot know how it warms my heart to know you’re alive and well. After learning of the sighting from Mackenzie I had to search for you. I still have men in France.”

  “It was wrong of me to stay away.” There were so many things to tell him. No doubt he had many questions of his own. “We must find somewhere quiet where we can sit and I can tell you all that has occurred these last eight years.”

  Having told Ross everything about her time away, telling Fabian would prove somewhat easier. She glanced back over her shoulder again, looking for the man she loved with all her heart.

  “Shall we eat first?” Fabian said. “You must be famished after the long journey.”

  “We stopped numerous times en route. And Mrs Erstwhile prepared a basket and we’ve been nibbling on the contents since we left.” Oh, how she wished the Erstwhiles were here, to meet her brother, to see the castle, to give their support.

  “So, you’re familiar with Vane’s staff?” There was another question hidden behind Fabian’s words. Surely he knew that it was too late to worry about her virtue or reputation.

  “The Erstwhiles own an apothecary shop and I worked as their assistant.”

  “You worked for them?” He turned to her and cupped her cheek. “Come, perhaps you should explain everything now. For I fear the rest of the day will be spent with me besieging you with questions.”

  Fabian led her up to the top of the keep. The weather was warm, the sky clear and she could see the surrounding heathland, could even make out a small boat in the distance.

  They remained up there for three hours.

  Estelle told him everything about her time with the smugglers, about Faucheux’s threats to find her, even about her terrible time at the hands of Philipe Robard.

  “You’re telling me this Hungerford fellow drugged you, and that if Vane hadn’t arrived in time you would be living with a lunatic in Bath?”

  “Yes,” she said, aware that her poor brother suffered greatly from hearing her stories because he’d not been there to help her. “But must you call him that?”

  “Forgive me, Estelle, but any man who attempts to abduct a woman is most definitely not of sound mind.”

  Estelle sighed. “I am not speaking about Mr Hungerford. I am speaking about Ross.”

  Fabian frowned. “You don’t like the name Vane?”

  “It implies a weakness of character that is far removed from the truth.”

  Fabian narrowed his gaze and studied her for a moment. “You still love him.”

  “Oh, yes.” Estelle put her hand over her heart. “More than ever.”

  “Does he feel the same way?”

  “He does,” she said confidently.

  “Then I must hope he will do right by you, despite all that has occurred.” Fabian came to his feet and gestured to a point in the distance. “There’s a small church on the island. You can marry there if you both so wish.”

  How easily her brother skimmed past all the trauma and scandal to concentrate only on her future. But how could she ever be accepted as the Marchioness of Trevane?

  “And you think it is possible for a lady like me to marry a marquess?”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I think it is possible for a lady like you to do whatever her heart desires.”

  Estelle came to her feet and hugged him. His biased comment still gave her hope. “Oh, I have missed you so.”

  “I would have never stopped looking for you.”

  “I know.”

  He stepped back. “Let’s go and find Lillian and Trevane. They must have grown tired waiting for us to return. And then I can take you on a tour of the island.”

  Estelle nodded, though hoped she would have some time alone with Ross before they headed out on an adventure.

  �
��And then you will tell me where I might find Philipe Robard, and Faucheux,” Fabian said.

  Oh, heavens, Fabian was as determined as Ross when it came to avenging a lady’s ruined reputation.

  “Why? What will you do?”

  “Exactly what you think I might do.”

  “It’s all forgotten now, and I want to keep it that way.” At least for the time being. Dread the day Faucheux ever came looking for her. But with Ross at her side she could cope with anything.

  “I shall discuss the matter with Trevane.” Fabian took her hand and helped her descend the narrow flight of stairs leading down to the first floor. They eventually found Lillian reading in the drawing room: an intimate space with oak-panelled walls and a huge stone hearth.

  Lillian stood as they entered. She smiled weakly.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to welcome you earlier.” With her book in her hand, Lillian crossed the room to greet them. “I know you both had so much to talk about.”

  “It’s lovely to see you, Lillian. One way or another, I believe we were destined to be sisters.” Estelle glanced at the empty sofa wondering what had happened to Ross.

  “Indeed, we were.”

  “Where’s Lord Trevane?” Fabian said with a grin. “In case you’re wondering, Estelle prefers I use his full title.”

  Lillian pursed her lips, distress evident in her eyes. She opened her book, removed a letter and handed it to Estelle. “This is for you. My brother told me to tell you that he loves you and asks you to be patient and wait for him.”

  “Wait for him?” Estelle felt the blood drain from her face. She gripped the letter. “What do you mean?” She glanced behind her. “Where is he?”

  Lillian shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. She looked at Fabian. “He has returned to Branscombe.”

  “Branscombe?” Estelle shook her head. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach said otherwise. “Then he is coming back?”

  “Of course,” Lillian said. “He told Mackenzie he would return as soon as he’s done what he needs to do in … in France.”

  “France!” Estelle’s world swayed. She felt nauseous. Dizzy. It was as though sharp talons pierced her chest and gripped her heart ready to squeeze the life from it. “France?” she whispered looking down at the letter in her hand. A tear dropped onto the paper. “Why?”

  “I think you know,” Lillian said softly.

  Fabian put his hand on Estelle’s shoulder. “After what I have just heard, it is what any man who cares about you would do. It is a good sign. A sign of his lasting devotion.”

  “No!” She swung around and with one hand grabbed her brother by his shirt and shook him. “Fetch a boat. Bring him back.”

  Fabian covered her hand with his own. “He loves you, Estelle. He will return. But he is worldly enough to know that you cannot live happily in fear. He is honourable enough to want to seek vengeance on those who have hurt you.”

  “No. The past doesn’t matter. He knows that.” Oh, where was Mr Erstwhile when she needed him? Estelle stepped away and hurried to the door.

  “Wait!” Fabian cried. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Mackenzie. To get a boat. To bring him back.”

  Fabian grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his chest. “He will return. You must wait for him as he asked you to do. The time will pass quickly. I promise you.”

  No!

  Estelle crumpled to her knees and Fabian followed. “I lost him once, Fabian. I cannot lose him again.”

  “I understand.”

  They remained there for a few minutes until she found the strength to stand. Lillian took her hand and led her to the bedchamber allocated for the duration of her stay. Of course, Fabian presumed the arrangement would be permanent, but Estelle’s life was with Ross wherever that might be.

  Lillian reassured her of Ross’ affections and then left her alone to read the letter. Love poured from the page, dripped from every word. She was his life, his love, his everything, he said. But he could not let her live under a cloud of fear for the rest of her days.

  Wait for me. She read those words repeatedly. Marry me.

  Estelle slept clutching the letter. Every day she ventured to the top of the keep and stared out at sea searching for his boat, wondering when he would come home to her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Twelve days had passed since Ross took Estelle’s hand and hauled her out of the small boat. Compared to eight years it should have been nothing. He’d said he was coming back. But she could not shake the deep sense of loss. Every night she prayed for him. Every day she awaited his return only to retire feeling drained, lovesick and alone.

  She had used the time productively, rebuilding her relationship with Fabian and Lillian. Witnessing the depth of their love only made her miss Ross all the more.

  Every day, she wandered down to the secluded cove, paddled her feet in the sea, sat and watched the waves break on the sand.

  Today, a thick blanket of cloud obscured the sun. Sharp gusts of wind whipped her hair loose from its knot. But she enjoyed the peace and solitude, and it gave her time to daydream about Ross.

  She put her hands over her ears as another gust howled past. Mr Erstwhile would caution her about being outdoors in such harsh weather. He’d treated plenty of people with a chill in their chest, mostly from going out in all elements.

  She groaned inwardly when she sensed someone approach. Perhaps Fabian had come to keep her company, or Mackenzie with wild tales to make her laugh. For as the days dragged on, her mood grew more melancholic.

  Whoever it was draped his coat over her shoulders and dropped down beside her. In an instant, she knew it was not Fabian or Mackenzie. The alluring scent that clung to the coat belonged to only one man.

  Her head shot to the right, and her heart almost leapt out of her mouth.

  “Did you miss me, Estelle?” Ross looked out at sea before turning to face her. A lock of ebony hair hung rakishly over one brow. The sight of him stole her breath. “Are you angry I went away?”

  It took a moment to speak. “Angry? No. Livid? Most definitely.”

  He smiled at that.

  Relief flooded through her, starting in her fingers and racing to her toes. “So you took a trip to France without me.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a trip exactly. More a mission to right the wrongs of the past.”

  “And did you succeed?”

  He raised an arrogant brow. “What do you think?”

  She scanned his face and body. Her gaze fell to the marred hand resting on his knee. “How did you come by that bruise on your knuckle?”

  “Oh, that.” He examined the bruise and flexed his fingers. “My hand collided with a gentleman’s nose and then smacked into his jaw.”

  “Was it anyone I know?”

  “As a matter of fact, he is the son of a merchant who lacks manners when it comes to maids.”

  Estelle couldn’t help but feel a frisson of satisfaction. “Is he dead?”

  “No, though I fear he may need to recuperate for some time.”

  “I see.”

  Another gust of wind forced her to suck in her breath. Ross reached over and drew his coat more firmly around her shoulders.

  “And what else were you up to on your secret mission?” Surely he’d not gone off in search of the smugglers.

  “I spoke to the magistrate who showed an interest in what happened at Drummond’s yard. It seems Hungerford did hire the Frenchman to attack you in the alley. He also hired him to break into the shop. When questioned, the man waffled on about the Erstwhiles eating poisoned macaroons, about Hungerford wanting to take advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable.”

  “Good Lord. The level of deceit is astounding.” Now she knew why Mr Hungerford insisted on serving macaroons when he knew she hated them.

  “Oh, and I spent a night in Wissant,” Ross continued. “You’d be surprised what y
ou can learn when you ply the locals with wine and ale.”

  “Wissant? You have been busy.” Estelle inhaled to calm the nervous flutter in her stomach. “And … and what did they tell you?”

  “Faucheux is dead. That is the name of the smuggler you fear?”

  Estelle’s heart thumped hard against her ribcage. “Please tell me you didn’t kill him.”

  Ross shook his head. “The band of smugglers were caught and hung years ago. Faucheux was hung for the murder of Monsieur Bonnay. The group fought without a leader and were caught with contraband some months later.”

  Faucheux was dead.

  A sense of peace settled in her chest, one she’d not felt since the carefree days of her youth. She had been so angry with Ross for leaving, and yet no words could express her gratitude. Never again would she worry whenever she heard a gruff French voice.

  She turned and clutched his arm. “Do you know what that means?”

  “It means you have nothing to fear. It means no one can ever testify to the part you played all those years ago.”

  The love she felt for this man burst through her. She flew into his arms, causing him to fall back onto the sand.

  Her mouth closed over his instantly. She devoured him, thrust her tongue wildly against his. Twelve days’ worth of anguish ignited into a passion she could not contain. She kissed his cheek, his chin, nibbled the spot just beneath his ear, bit down on his lobe.

  “So you have missed me,” Ross panted as he grasped her buttocks.

  Consumed by lust, Estelle straddled him, gathered up her skirts and fumbled with the buttons on his breeches. “Take me now, Ross. Take me here. I need you.”

  Freeing himself from his constraints with ease, he gripped his manhood.

  “Hurry,” she said, aware that they were alone on the beach but at any moment someone might appear. But she could not wait to take this man into her body. “Quickly, Ross.”

  With a moan of intense pleasure, she took him into her core, deep inside her, as deep as their position allowed.

  Ross lay back on the sand. “Oh, God, Estelle. You don’t know what it’s been like for me these last twelve days.”