The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(19)

Mr Erstwhile ushered the gentleman inside and shut the door. “A slight mishap that is all. Someone broke in through the back door last night and made a dreadful mess.”

The colour drained from Mr Hungerford’s face. His green eyes flicked to Estelle and scanned her from head to toe. The nervous flutter in her stomach spoke of unease, not admiration.

With golden hair and a pleasing countenance, she considered him a handsome gentleman. Dressed smartly in a claret coat and hat, green waistcoat and beige breeches, he had the air of a man running an important errand. Oddly, she had a reason to be thankful to the intruder. Mr Hungerford would have to be without feeling or conscience to make a romantic declaration today.

“I trust no one was hurt by this dreadful fiend?” Mr Hungerford’s gaze never left her.

“Thankfully, it happened while we were dining with you, sir,” Estelle replied.

The gentleman appeared stunned. “Then I cannot help but feel somewhat relieved that you were not at home. Although I doubt the villain would have had the courage to enter had he noted the glow of candlelight streaming through the window.”

“Who can say?” Mr Erstwhile said. “Time spent contemplating what might have been is time wasted.”

After seeing Ross Sandford, Estelle wished she could embrace that particular pearl of wisdom.

“Indeed.” Mr Hungerford removed his top hat and placed it on the wooden counter. Tugging at the fingers of his gloves, he removed those, too. “Now, tell me how I can be of assistance.”

“Oh, no, no.” Mr Erstwhile held up his hands. “We are almost done here, and I cannot have you dirtying your fine clothes on my account.”

“But the sooner things are put right, the sooner you can return to normality.”

“What is normality but merely a figment of the imagination?” Mr Erstwhile replied cryptically.

The comment gave Mr Hungerford pause. The gentleman struggled to form an appropriate reply. “There must be something I can do,” he eventually said.

“The door is fixed, the shop tidied, and Miss Brown is off to collect provisions.”

Estelle groaned inwardly.

For a man so wise, Mr Erstwhile rarely spoke without thought. Did he share his wife’s opinion? Was he as eager to thrust her into Mr Hungerford’s path, just as keen to see her wed and settled?

“Then I shall accompany Miss Brown on her errand.” Mr Hungerford’s eyes sparkled to life. One corner of his mouth curled up into a satisfied grin. “With my assistance, she can collect twice the provisions.”

Mr Erstwhile walked over to the window and stared out into the street. “Hmm. You’re walking today I see.”

“I make it a point to take regular exercise. Good health must be a priority. As you know.”

Mr Erstwhile turned back to face them. A knowing smile played on his lips though it left Estelle baffled. “Then I have no objection unless Miss Brown would prefer to go alone.”

What could Estelle do other than nod and thank Mr Hungerford for his thoughtfulness? She would not embarrass Mr Erstwhile by offering a curt reply even though her employer seemed to have lost the gift of intuition.

“Thank you, Mr Hungerford.” Estelle forced a smile. “But I should like to hurry. Mrs Erstwhile has a list of things for me to do this afternoon.” It was more of an exaggeration than a lie, but she did not feel an ounce of guilt for it.

“We will work together to ensure you’re back in plenty of time.”

His congenial manner failed to express the sudden predatory hunger in his eyes. Thank heavens they would be walking along a busy street and had no need to wander alone through the warren of narrow lanes.

“Then I shall fetch my bonnet and jacket.”

Estelle left them alone, although Mr Erstwhile still seemed preoccupied with something outside. When she returned, the men were deep in conversation. Mr Hungerford had asked about her background numerous times, mentioned her eloquent elocution and education, had struggled to hide his frustration when she became evasive.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Brown.” Mr Hungerford straightened. He offered his arm. It mattered not that she worked for a living and he received an income of almost a thousand pounds a year. A fact he’d been quick to mention over dinner. “Shall we head out?”

“Certainly.” With a deep sense of dread, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Mr Erstwhile opened the door, looking almost pleased by the prospect of them spending time together. How odd he should offer encouragement when he was an advocate of true love.

They left the shop, had taken but ten steps when Mr Hungerford could no longer suppress his impatience. Barely contained excitement coloured his cheeks. Indeed, he was like a valet whose master had given him a diamond cravat pin for Michaelmas.

Mr Hungerford stopped abruptly, forcing her to turn and face him. “I came today hoping to have a quiet word with you alone.”

“Oh, and why is that?” The incident at the shop had not deterred him, and so it was better to deal with the matter quickly.

“It cannot have escaped your attention that I admire you greatly, Miss Brown.”

The man’s wife died four months earlier. Clearly, he belonged to the club where women were considered a necessary accoutrement. Mr Hungerford had no children and so should be in no rush to marry. Then again, perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps he wanted a mistress, not a wife.