The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(33)
Vane cleared his throat. “That wasn’t what I had in mind but thank you for drawing my attention to an obvious flaw in my character.”
Rose blushed. “Forgive me, I only meant—”
“I am teasing you,” he said. “When it comes to flaws, patience is not a skill I have mastered. Nor do I have the ability to remain calm when anger burns hot inside.”
So much for keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. This lady possessed an ability to draw out the truth without him even putting up a fight.
Vane glanced at Farleigh as Rose led him into the drawing room. A smile formed when he noted his friend’s crumpled cravat. The lord had obviously dressed in a hurry for he’d missed a button on his waistcoat, too.
While Farleigh visited the drinks table to pour them both a glass of brandy, Rose settled into the seat by the fire and gestured for Vane to sit opposite.
“I have decided to return to Hanover Square,” Vane said before Rose brought up the subject of Estelle. Making the announcement aloud made it more difficult to change his mind.
Decanter in hand, Farleigh stopped pouring and glanced over his shoulder. “You’re leaving here? May I ask why?”
Rose sat forward. “I don’t suppose it feels like home when we arrive unannounced.”
“This is your home, not mine,” Vane said humbly. “You’re free to do as you please and I’m grateful to Christian for providing an alternative place to stay when we returned from Italy.”
The thought of going back to Hanover Square filled him with dread. The same frightful memory played over in his mind. Dawn approached as he ambled up the steps after a night spent in the company of Lady Monroe. The scent of exotic perfume clung to his clothes as did a whiff of stale tobacco. His butler, Marley, had long since gone to bed, and so Vane had let himself in with a key.
It was dark but not quiet.
The sound of whimpering drew him to the hunched figure sitting on the cold marble stairs. Upon hearing the door close, Lillian looked up. He would never forget her swollen face, blotchy red cheeks, and sad eyes ringed with black shadows. She jumped up and hurried down to the hall, flung her arms around his neck and sobbed as she told him of her ordeal.
It was his responsibility to protect his sister. But he’d been too occupied with trying to find a cure for his malaise, trying to cure the mental and physical discomfort that plagued him since losing Estelle.
“I am to blame,” Rose said, dragging Vane from his reverie. “But with us being so recently married you see, I just couldn’t stay away.” She glanced at her husband, and one could not miss the sensual undertone in her smile.
From experience, Vane distrusted the look of love, but all those around him seemed determined to prove him wrong.
“No one is to blame,” he said. “The time has come for me to return. I cannot avoid the place forever.”
“The ghosts of the past only haunt us if we let them.” Farleigh handed Vane a glass of brandy and moved to stand behind Rose. “I should know.” He put a hand on Rose’s shoulder, and she covered it with her own.
“Has Miss Darcy explained what prompted her to leave home and journey to France?” Rose spoke softly as though that somehow lessened the impact of such a blunt question.
Vane cleared his throat. “I have yet to ask her.”
“I see.” Rose sat back in the chair.
Damnation. Despite having told this woman far too much already, he had no intention of admitting he was too terrified to hear the truth. He should leave now.
“We all have our crosses to bear,” Rose continued. “My father made life impossible, a living nightmare. Perhaps Miss Darcy’s father did the same.”
“Lord Ravenscroft was a kind-hearted man, too trusting of character.” Vane’s father had lured him into a mining venture that had little hope of success. Ravenscroft’s losses were heavy. “But he loved his daughter.”
A look akin to pity flashed in Rose’s eyes. “Forgive me, but what we believe and what is true are two very different things. Let me tell you that a young lady does not leave her only means of security, be it emotional or financial, unless the consequences of staying outweigh the danger of leaving.”
What the hell was she saying?
“So, Estelle would rather risk her life on a perilous voyage than marry me?” He had thought the same for years. But the way Estelle had looked at him, the way she’d kissed him at the coaching inn, convinced him she felt something.
Perhaps the injury to his head had muddled his mind.
“What Rose is trying to say,” Lord Farleigh interjected, “is that perhaps another factor affected her decision. One that made it impossible to stay. Perhaps her father insisted she marry someone else. You told me once before, your father practically ruined Lord Ravenscroft. Perhaps he held a grudge. Perhaps you were the last person in the world he would permit his daughter to marry.”
Vane shook his head. “Lord Ravenscroft was just as hurt and confused by Estelle’s sudden departure.” Her father blamed himself, rambled on about reading the signs, about misplaced trust.
“Then perhaps she doubted your loyalty.”
Farleigh’s comment struck like a sword to the heart.
“I would have done anything for her,” Vane said fervently. The immense power of the words filled his chest. Give him twenty rogues in an alley, and he could beat every one of them. He sat forward. “I would have given away my birthright, sheared sheep, farmed the land.” His love for Estelle burst free of its shackles to flood his body with a warm glow. “She was my life, my love, my everything.”