by Adele Clee
“That all depends.”
“On what?” Her heart was beating so fast it echoed in her ears.
“On you.” Daniel stepped closer. “Stay here with me. I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. To build a life with this man was the only thing she wanted. “What of your work in London? Will you not take another case?”
“I could not give up my work completely.” He smiled. “I have decided to become a farmer. Someone has to help find the lost lambs.”
She doubted she could love him any more than she did at that moment. “I’m sure there are terrible crimes committed in rural areas. I hear the locals are still trying to determine who left mud in the pew last Sunday.”
Daniel laughed, but then his smile faded. “I have loved you from the moment I met you. I once asked you to marry me without giving the matter much thought, but I’ll not make that mistake again.”
Daphne inhaled sharply.
“So now I am asking you to be my wife,” he continued. “To lie with me at night, to be my constant companion. I am asking you to love me and in return know that I will love, honour and protect you until the day I die.”
Joy burst forth in a torrent of tears. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
“Does that mean you accept?” he said dragging his mouth away.
“Of course I accept.” She kissed him once again just for good measure, told him she loved him ten times or more. “It will mean mastering a new weapon, though I doubt a scythe is as deadly as a blade.”
“You once told me your weapon of choice is your mouth. I’d consider mastering that before moving on to anything else.” A wicked grin formed on his lips. “I’m more than happy to offer myself as your tutor.”
“And are your hands not said to be your greatest asset? If we work together I feel we shall make an excellent team.”
Epilogue
Rainham Hall, Buckinghamshire
Two years later
“Don’t pull the lamb’s tail, George,” Helena called to her son from the terrace as she cradled her daughter, Olivia.
“He’s stroking the tail not pulling it,” Lucas called back from their spot on the grass. He turned to Daniel. “I don’t know why she’s so worried. When I was a boy, I would have tried to climb on its back and ride it around the grounds.”
Holding his son, Tobias, in his arms, Daniel knelt down to let the boy pet the lamb. The one-year-old had no concept of stroking and slapped the animal numerous times on the back.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Daphne said as she came to stand with them on the lawn. “Return the lamb to Mr Davies so he may reunite it with its mother. I’d hate for him to think it’s missing.”
There was something different about his wife today, Daniel thought. Her green eyes were overly bright. And the wide smile gracing her lips hadn’t faltered in days.
“Why do mothers spoil all the fun?” Lucas teased. “Say goodbye to the lamb, George.” Lucas took the boy’s hand and escorted him back to Helena.
“Do you have something to tell me, Daphne?” Daniel said as soon as Lucas was out of earshot. He stepped closer. The urge to kiss her took hold, and he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers before anyone noticed.
“Is it so obvious?” A giggle escaped from her lips as she struggled to hide her excitement.
“I am extremely skilled when it comes to reading the language of your body.”
She took hold of his hand. “Then you should not be surprised to discover that I am with child.”
His heart swelled. “You’re certain?”
“Of course,” she said, leaning forward to stroke Tobias’ head. “As we both know what it’s like to have no siblings, it’s important Tobias has someone special in his life other than his parents.”
Without a care for who saw them, he kissed her again. The need to demonstrate his love for her proved overwhelming. “Is that why you were awake for hours last night? As I recall, the last time you struggled to sleep you were worried about the intruder.”
“With you by my side I have nothing to fear,” she said squeezing his hand. “I trust you’re pleased with the news.”
“Pleased? I could not be any happier.” He suddenly wished they were alone so he could worship her as he wanted to.
“Perhaps we might celebrate our good fortune later this evening,” she said in the seductive lilt he so loved.
“I shall look forward to it. Indeed, I shall think of nothing else for the rest of the day.”
Daphne took Tobias in her arms. “The children need to rest. Return the lamb to Davies and then come and eat.”
“Well, have you decided?” Lucas said coming to stand at their side.
Daniel frowned, curious as to Lucas’ meaning. “Decided what?”
“Which one of us is carrying the lamb?” Lucas brushed the sleeves of his coat. “That is unless it’s trained to follow your heel, and then it can trot along behind.”
“I’ll carry it,” Daniel said with a chuckle. “I can see you’re wearing a new coat.”
Lucas raised a brow. “Ah, your eye for detail is as sharp as ever.”
Daphne shook her head. “I shall leave you gentlemen to your duties.”
Daniel stood in awe and watched Daphne walk across the lawn. Love burned so fiercely in his chest it was often difficult to breathe. Sometimes he’d wake at night in a cold sweat, believing his new life was but a dream. But then Daphne would wrap her warm arms around him and soothe away his fears.
His mind drifted back to the bleak day in Hyde Park when his world came crashing down around him. What if he’d let her go? What if Bostock hadn’t come to offer a logical alternative to chasing criminals through the back streets of London?
“If you’re sulking because you want me to carry the lamb then you only have to say.” Lucas’ comical tone disturbed Daniel’s reverie.
“I’ll carry the lamb,” Daniel said. Thank the Lord no one else was party to their ridiculous conversation. “I was just thinking about Bostock.”
“You were watching your wife while thinking of your associate?” Lucas grinned. “How interesting.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “I remember a time when you had a face of stone and growled at everyone who glanced your way.” The lamb bleated as he picked it up. “Now, you appear to find the slightest thing amusing.”
Lucas gave him a friendly slap on the upper arm, and Daniel nearly dropped the animal. “I think it’s fair to say we were both angry with the world. I recall you being equally miserable. And now look at you — hugging a lamb as though you’re its surrogate mother.”
“Love has changed us both it seems.”
“And for the better,” Lucas said. “The sight of you in that billowing coat was enough to frighten the Devil.”
Daniel laughed. “Fate is a funny thing. Had your brother not hired me to solve your case, I doubt I would be on speaking terms with Daphne.”
“Then you owe him a debt so large it can never be repaid.” Lucas stopped walking and glanced at the lush green fields. “You belong here. You belong with Daphne.”
Daniel knew how fortunate he was. Every day, he counted his blessings.
“Bostock tells me you own a textile company and donated reams of fabric so he could make clothes for the poor.”
Lucas shrugged. “One has to admire your man’s efforts,” he said modestly. “If you ever find land management tiring, I could always use a business partner.”
“I shall bear that in mind should I ever break my crook.”
Lucas chuckled. “Do you ever miss your work as an enquiry agent?”
Daniel considered the question. “I miss the thrill of the chase. The satisfaction gleaned from solving a case. But my life is richer now in so many ways.”
“I understand. But one never knows what the future holds. Tobias and Olivia are the same age. Perhaps one day they might fall in love, and some dastardly
devil will seek to cause havoc with their plans. In their desperate hour of need, we may be called upon to save the day.”
“Our children are barely a year old, and already you’re planning their future.”
“There is one problem. Daphne and Helena love solving mysteries. We’d have a hell of a game trying to keep them in tow.”
Lucas’ imagination was running away with him.
“I have no desire to dwell on what might be,” Daniel said, desperate to deliver the lamb and return to the terrace in the hope of stealing another kiss from Daphne. “It’s called the present for a reason. The gift of today is all that should concern us. Bostock taught me that.”
Lucas brushed his hand through his hair. “You’re just saying that because in twenty years you know I’ll still be as handsome as ever and you’ll be bald or grey.”
Daniel shrugged. “Still, I have nothing to fear. According to Mrs Bostock there is a man on Mill Street who makes accessories for gentlemen who are follicly challenged.”
“Ah, so that’s how you managed to grow such an impressive beard.”
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The Mysterious Miss Flint
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Adele x
The Mysterious Miss Flint
(Lost Ladies of London, Book 1)
Chapter 1
“What the hell do you mean? You must know where she is.” Oliver Darby, fourth Earl of Stanton, rounded the solid oak desk, grabbed the solicitor by the flimsy lapels of his coat and shook him. “Wickedness is in the blood. My father may be dead and buried but I am very much alive. Now tell me where he sent her.”
“The … the late earl made no mention of it in his will, my lord.” The man’s neat white periwig slipped down to obscure one eye. “Perhaps Lady Rose went to stay with an aunt.”
“Lies I can deal with, stupidity I cannot.” Oliver released the pathetic creature, and he tumbled back into the chair. “We have no other kin and you damn well know it.”
Mr Wild straightened his wig. “There’s your sister’s godmother, Lady Stewart.”
“Neither of us have seen Lady Stewart since our mother died. Our father strictly forbade any contact.” Oliver’s tone conveyed more than contempt for his father’s controlling manner. “And according to the housekeeper, my sister has not been seen for six months or more. I think that is a little long for a visit, don’t you?”
“My lord, I don’t know what else to suggest.” Mr Wild winced as though expecting another volatile outburst. “I assume you have questioned the staff.”
Questioned them? Oliver had practically torn the house apart. He’d interrogated the servants until they confessed to all manner of misdemeanours. The footman’s dalliance with the maid was hardly surprising. The housekeeper’s deception over the price of a bottle of brandy proved more so. Mrs Baker’s brother was the proprietor of his father’s preferred liquor establishment. Any extra funds gained from inflated bills were passed to the housekeeper to purchase candles, since the old man had forced the staff to be frugal and cut the household budget.
Despite hours of prodding and probing, none of the servants knew what had happened to Rose. Most presumed she was visiting friends in the country even though she’d left without her maid.
A sense of foreboding gripped him.
“I want a detailed breakdown of my father’s … of my assets,” Oliver corrected. “A list of all land owned regardless of how small the plot.” An image of a shallow grave entered his mind, and he cursed under his breath. Surely the bastard wasn’t cruel enough to do away with his own daughter? “I want a list of all property owned outright, and any bought in partnership. Include all buildings rented by tenants.”
Was he over-reacting?
Perhaps Rose had eloped and decided to break all contact with her family. Perhaps she would breeze into the dining room this evening with rosy cheeks and a bright smile and regale tales of time spent in Brighton?
The painful knot in his stomach said otherwise.
Mr Wild coughed. “I’m afraid I have a three o’clock appointment, my lord, but can prepare the papers tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” A young woman was missing. Panic came in the form of a hard lump in his throat. “You’ll give me what I want now else I’ll empty every damn drawer myself. I’ll make such a mess you’ll still be cleaning it up come Christmas.”
Mr Wild loosened the collar of his shirt and fanned his face. “My lord—”
“Now, Mr Wild!”
The man stood though there was some doubt as to whether his legs would support his weight. He scurried out into the hall and called to Mr Andrews, the clerk.
While the two men ferreted about in drawers and cabinets, piling papers and files on top of the desk, Oliver contemplated the part he’d played in neglecting his sister.
The day his father insisted he marry Lady Melissa Martin, the most arrogant, conceited debutante ever to grace a ballroom, was the day he left Stanton House and the fog-drenched streets of London behind. His escape took him as far afield as Naples, until his father cut him off without a penny.
“I think that’s the lot.” Mr Andrews pushed his spectacles up to the bridge of his nose. “Do you need any further assistance, Mr Wild?”
“No, Andrews that will be all.”
“Wait.” Oliver gestured to the mound of paper. “I want a single list of all land and property. If Mr Wild has no objection, you can take notes.” Oliver raised a brow and stared down his nose at the agitated solicitor. “And lock the front door. Mr Wild cannot make his three o’clock appointment.”
Arrogance was a trait Oliver despised, as was using one’s position to control and manipulate people, but Rose was missing, hidden away in some godforsaken place just to spite him.
Mr Wild offered no objection to the demands made. Yet the hint of disdain about his countenance mirrored the look Oliver had cast his father many times in the past.
A pang of remorse, for his high-handed approach, hit him square in the chest. “Had my father’s man of business not disappeared along with half the silver, I would have had him attend to this sorry task.”
“Mr Burrows did not disappear,” Mr Wild said. “Your father dismissed him months before his death. The man had not been paid for nigh on a year and no doubt thought he’d not see a penny.”
“But my father was not short of funds.” On the contrary, Oliver had inherited a substantial income. Regardless of his father’s disapproval and their subsequent estrangement, continuing the Darby bloodline was the priority — the only thing that mattered. Oliver considered never marrying just to spite the bast—
“From what I gather they were at odds over business.” Mr Wild sat in the chair behind the desk and opened the first file. “The refusal to pay Burrows was simply an act of defiance.”
Oliver gave a snort of contempt. “My father liked to make a point.”
Mr Wild’s resigned nod spoke of personal experience. “So, other than Stanton House and Bridewell, there’s the shooting lodge on Loch Broom.” He turned to his clerk. “Are you writing this down, Andrews?”
The clerk nodded from the small desk in the corner of the room.
“There’s the house on St James’ Street,” Wild continued, “one on Mount Street, and the house bequeathed to your late mother in Acton, Shropshire.”
Scotland! Shropshire! The list went on.
Bloody hell!
He’d been the earl of almost a week, missed the funeral but made it home for the reading of the will. In light of Rose’s disappearance, the finer details had seemed unimportant. Hearing the vast extent of his father’s estate filled Oliver with dread. Despite
searching Bridewell — their family seat in Sussex — and finding nothing, the accompanying eight thousand acres would take months to search.
The more the list grew, the more Oliver’s temple throbbed. All the other houses mentioned were leased to tenants. It would mean investigating every one — a mammoth task for a man on his own. And while he plodded about from one county to the next, heaven knows what predicament Rose was in.
“What about derelict buildings?” Oliver said, his tone more subdued now.
Mr Wild frowned. “Surely you can’t think your father would have sent Lady Rose to a place unbefitting her station.”
Oh, his father would have sent them both to the devil. Thankfully, Oliver possessed the Darby family traits: slightly crooked little fingers, a v-shaped hairline and a Roman nose with an aristocratic bump on the bridge. Indeed, the Darby’s were deemed ugly men. But Oliver had inherited his mother’s striking blue eyes, full lips and evenly spaced features. The old earl’s obsession with his wife’s beauty led to suspicions of infidelity and was the cause of his distant relationship with Rose. While Oliver had hair as black as his father’s soul, Rose was the only Darby ever to boast honey-gold tresses.
But to send her away, to ignore her absence and pretend she’d never existed.
“My father was prepared to go to any lengths to prove a point.” Numerous times he had demanded Oliver return home. Had Oliver known Rose was to be used as a pawn in the game, he would have employed different tactics.
“The list is extensive,” Mr Wild said as tied the string on the last file and placed it with the others. “Perhaps an enquiry agent might help you investigate those properties further afield.”
“I shall consider it an option.” Oliver wouldn’t rest until he checked each property himself, though hiring an agent in Scotland might save him weeks of unnecessary hours on the road.