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

“I … I assure you, I am perfectly capable of … of standing.”

The urge to sleep came upon him. The strain to keep his eyes open proved too taxing. He searched for the angel, but she had disappeared into the mist, the beautiful dream lost to him. The gates to paradise barred to him for now.

“Do you need assistance?” Mr Erstwhile stepped forward. “He’s too large a fellow for one man to carry.”

“Happen you should get yourselves off home, and quickly if you want to keep hold of that tidy watch and walking cane.”

“Listen to the man,” Mrs Erstwhile said in a mild state of panic. “We must make haste.”

“I can take you as far as Piccadilly,” Wickett said. “Don’t suppose his lordship will mind under the circumstances.”

“Well, we would not wish to impose. We only need to go as far as Whitecombe Street—”

“Come, Mr Erstwhile, we shall lose Miss Brown if we linger.” The woman tugged her husband’s arm. “And I can feel one of my migraines coming on.”

“Thank you, but we will walk. My wife finds carriage rides in the fog somewhat unnerving.”

“As you please.” Wickett firmed his grip on Vane’s waist and clasped the arm draped around his shoulder. “Turn left at the end of the street, and you’ll find yourself on St Martins Lane.”

The couple bid farewell and disappeared into the night.

“This is what happens when your mind’s on other things,” Wickett complained as he assisted Vane across the road to his carriage. “Count yourself lucky the rogues didn’t have a blade else they’d have gutted you like a fish.”

“I would have finished them both were it not for that blasted wolf.”

“Wolf, you say?” Wickett chuckled. “No one has seen a wolf in England for three hundred years, let alone one wandering the streets of St Giles.”

“A hound, then.” The haze in Vane’s mind was clearing. A large mouthful of brandy would numb the pounding in his head. “The damn animal came from nowhere.” Perhaps that, too, had been a figment of his imagination, a symbolic representation of a hound from Hell.

And yet it had all seemed so real.

The Devil’s beast had come to claim him. The Lord’s angel frightened it away to offer him a better alternative.

But what did it all mean?

Was seeing a vision of Estelle’s sweet face a clear sign that all was lost and he should abandon his search? Or was the illusion meant to bring her to the forefront of his mind?

Not that he needed reminding.

The portrait might be locked in a drawer, but her image haunted every cold corridor of his mind, still haunted the lonely chambers of his heart.





Chapter Two





Estelle should run. She should pick up her skirts and run as far away as her legs could carry her. But already her breath came in rapid pants. Her heart raced so fast it hammered in her chest. The acrid fog clawed at the back of her throat. This must surely be the reason her eyes stung.

A tear fell, and then another.

Ross!

So many years had passed since she’d last seen him. He looked the same and yet so different. The same lock of ebony hair hung rakishly across his brow. Those piercing blue eyes still possessed the ability to muddle her mind though they were colder now — distant. Broad, muscular shoulders filled the slender more athletic frame she remembered. The same square jaw marked him as handsome although it held a defiant, rugged edge often common in those with a life blighted by hardship.

But what did Ross Sandford know of hardship?

Despite the changes, one thing remained irrevocably the same. The intense longing for him still burned deep in her core. Eight years apart and still her heart ached.

Oh, this was impossible.

“Miss Brown, wait!” Mrs Erstwhile’s concerned voice reached Estelle through the fog. “Wait, else we will lose you.”

But Estelle could not wait. With any luck, Ross had failed to recognise her. Why would he when she was a ghost to those she once knew? No doubt he had forgotten her face. No doubt he’d married, and love for another filled his heart now.

A sharp pain stabbed her chest.

Hopefully, he had not thought of her since that fateful day when she’d fled Prescott Hall knowing he was to come and offer marriage. And yet not a minute passed when she did not dream of what might have been.

“Miss Brown!”

Estelle glanced back over her shoulder and quickened her pace. The clip of footsteps chased behind.

Panic flared.

Ross!

What would she say to him? Too much had happened. How could she possibly explain?

Firm fingers gripped her elbow. “My dear, this is not the place one wanders alone.” Mr Erstwhile drew her back as he gulped for breath. Being short in stature and large around the middle he suffered easily from exertion. “One wrong turn and we might lose you for good.”

One wrong turn had brought the past hurtling to the present. What could be worse than that?

“Heaven knows what unsavoury characters linger in the shadows.” Mrs Erstwhile came to stand at her husband’s side. She put her hand on her chest to calm her ragged breathing. “You saw the state of that poor gentleman. Beaten and left for dead and all for a guinea.”