The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(40)

She looked to her lap and sighed — and there was his answer.

The blood in his veins turned ice-cold. She was his, always had been, always would be. To know she’d given herself to another was like a cleaver hacking at his heart. God, if there was one thing he despised it was his own damn hypocrisy.

“Did you love him?” he heard himself say, though he was still rolling on a metaphorical floor, writhing in pain, twisting in agony.

She grew suddenly restless, refused to look at him as she rocked back and forth in her seat. “This was a mistake. Stop the carriage. I want to get out.” She reached for the handle.

“Wait!” Panic flared. “You’ll fall to your death.”

Her hand settled over the metal.

Vane lurched forward and grabbed her wrist. “You can’t get out here.”

“I don’t care.” Tears filled her eyes as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “Let me go.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her across the carriage and into his lap. She fought him at first, kicked the side and tugged the curtain on the viewing window.

And still, Wickett did not take it as a signal to stop.

Vane wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” It would kill him to hear her story, but her needs had always come before his own.

She squirmed in his lap and punched his chest, the hollow sound drowned out by her sudden sob. “I can’t.”

Fear turned to anger. When she’d mentioned someone hurt her, surely she had not meant— He shook his head to banish the thought from his brain.

“Tell me what happened, Estelle.” How he kept his voice calm, he would never know. “Confide in me.”

“I was a fool … a fool who forgot how some men treat their maids,” she blurted. “I thought he was a friend.”

“Who?”

“Philipe Robard.” She gulped for breath. “The … the merchant’s son.”

Vane kissed the top of her head to bring her comfort, and to stop him from raising the roof with a barrage of vitriolic curses. “Are you telling me he forced you?”

“It all happened so quickly.” She curled into his lap and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I hit him with a chamber pot, ran down the stairs and out of the house and never looked back.”

Philipe Robard was a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet.

One question filled Vane’s mind. The words stuck to his tongue like a bitter taste that he desperately needed to expel. “Was … was there a child?”

Please say no.

Her head shot up, and her red, puffy eyes settled on him. “Heavens, no.”

Relief coursed through his veins.

“I hit him almost as soon as—” She cut off abruptly but he did not need to hear any more.

“And where will I find Monsieur Robard? In Paris?”

“Find him?” Estelle blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“No, Ross.” She shook her head. “I want to forget about Robard. I want to pretend the incident never happened.”

He would not forget. At some point in the very near future, he would travel to Paris. Once there, he would find the scoundrel and beat him so severely he would never regain the full use of his manhood.

“Please, Ross.” Estelle put a hand on his cheek, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and relish the connection. “There was nothing you or I could have done to prevent it. I told you because you asked and because you were honest with me. But please, put it from your mind.”

“You ask the impossible.”

“Can you not understand?” Both dainty hands cupped his face now. “I want to leave all of that behind me.” Her face was so close he could feel her sweet breath breeze across his lips. “How can I do that if you won’t let me? Please, you must allow me to move on.”

“When you say move on what you really mean is run away.” Vane stared into her sad eyes. “Will you ever stop running, Estelle?”

She fell silent for a moment. “How can I? How can I stop when I don’t have the courage to face the truth?”

Vane wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but she gazed longingly at his mouth as her thumbs stroked his cheeks. He knew enough about women to know she wanted him and so he took a leap of faith.

“And what is the truth? Do you regret leaving Prescott Hall?”

Do you regret leaving me?

She swallowed visibly. “I regret it more than you will ever know.”

“Why?” They were finally getting somewhere.

“Because I lost the respect and friendship of someone dear to me.” She bent her head and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. “I lost you.”

Had Estelle been sitting opposite he might have asked questions, probed her for more information. But her soft buttocks were but an inch away from his throbbing cock. The mere touch of her lips roused his desire, and he was lapping her comment up like a thirsty dog did a puddle of rainwater.

“What do you want from me?” Vane whispered. He cupped her neck, drew her mouth to his and kissed her with a passion reserved only for this woman. Leaving her in no doubt of his intentions.

“We cannot go back to how things were. Too much has happened. Our lives are so different now.” She moistened her lips. “But you’re the only man I have ever wanted. I would like to know you, Ross, to know the pleasure that comes when two people share a special bond, a deep connection.”