The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(51)



Vane relished the distraction for it took his mind off the urge to call on Estelle and ask if she was leaving with Mr Hungerford. Every fibre of his being told him she was not. Perhaps the man had made an offer to more than one woman. Still, Vane would wait until five o’clock to call at the apothecary shop.

If Estelle had left, then he would not chase after her. He would leave London and start afresh somewhere new. Perhaps visit Lillian, head out to a faraway place on one of Fabian’s merchant ship.

If Estelle remained in London, then the time had come to ask the one question branded into his heart. What the hell had prompted her to leave him all those years ago?





Chapter Fourteen





Estelle woke to the sun beaming through her bedchamber window. It was so bright she blinked numerous times before she could open her eyes sufficiently to see who was busying about in her room.

“Are you awake, Miss Brown?” Mrs Erstwhile’s voice penetrated Estelle’s drowsy mind. “I’ve brought you some tea. Mr Erstwhile says you’re starting with the sniffles and we don’t want you taking ill on us.”

Estelle shuffled up to lean against the pillows and drank in the welcome sight. “You look as bright as a button today. I know the stomach pains have subsided, but I didn’t expect to see you looking quite so cheerful.”

Mrs Erstwhile placed the cup and saucer on the side table and moved to the window to fuss with the curtains. “The restorative Mr Erstwhile made perked me up no end.”

Perhaps the tonic contained a secret ingredient, though Estelle knew it wouldn’t be anything sinister. Mr Erstwhile would never force his wife to consume anything without her knowledge.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see a rosy glow to your cheeks.” Had anything untoward happened to Mrs Erstwhile, Estelle would have felt compelled to remain at the shop indefinitely.

“I’m convinced it was something I ate, and yet we’ve all dined together this week, and I was the only one taken ill.”

“Except when we dined with Mr Hungerford,” she reminded Mrs Erstwhile. Estelle had told the gentleman of her dislike for macaroons, and yet he had presented them with a tower of biscuit treats. “You were the only one to eat from the plate of macaroons.”

Mr Hungerford had done his utmost to persuade Mr Erstwhile to try one. Feeling under pressure to please his host, Mr Erstwhile had taken a macaroon from the plate and nibbled on the corner. As soon as Mr Hungerford nipped out of the room, Mrs Erstwhile offered her assistance and gobbled it down.

Mrs Erstwhile slapped her hand across her mouth.

“From what I recall, you definitely had two,” Estelle said.

Guilt flashed in Mrs Erstwhile’s eyes. “It might have been more like five or six.” She shook her head. “But I’ve never known anyone become ill after eating a macaroon.”

Perhaps they were ill if they ate too many, Estelle thought.

“Thankfully, you’re better now and should not dwell on it anymore.” Estelle reached for the teacup and cradled it between her cold hands. “Can I ask you something? It is of a personal nature.”

With a proud smile, Mrs Erstwhile hurried over and sat on the edge of the bed. “My dear, we speak openly and honestly here. Ask away.”

Estelle wasn’t sure how to phrase her question without it seeming rude. “Did you ever have any doubts about your relationship with Mr Erstwhile? Was there ever a time when you felt … when your positions in society made you doubt if things would work?”

Mrs Erstwhile did not look the least bit offended. “Oh, many times. Even when we married I still feared the pressure might affect him. I never cared about myself.” She screwed up her nose and gave a funny wave. “It takes courage for a man to go against everything he’s been taught to believe.”

Ross possessed the courage of a whole battalion.

“Love finds a way.” Mrs Erstwhile patted her hand. “Is this about Mr Hungerford or the marquess? I hear both men called to see you yesterday, and both promised to return today.”

“It’s about the marquess.” And her ridiculous notion that she was unworthy of his affection. “I care nothing for Mr Hungerford and desire only to make my position clear.”

Mrs Erstwhile’s expression grew solemn, and she cast Estelle a look usually reserved for starving match girls. “Most gentlemen are not as understanding as Mr Erstwhile. Don’t expect too much.” She leant forward and rubbed Estelle’s arm gently. “It’s not for me to tell you what to do. But if you’re set against Mr Hungerford, you must tell him so at once.”

Estelle nodded. “I shall do so today, without delay.”

“Good. Now finish your tea and take a moment to clear your head. You’ll find eggs and toast on the table if you have a stomach for it.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food. “I’ll dress and come straight down.”

Mrs Erstwhile stood and made for the door. “Take your time, dear. I have a strange feeling it’s going to be a hectic day.”



The hours from ten until one o’clock dragged. Customers came and went, with their wracking coughs and odd skin complaints. Every tinkle of the bell had her eyes fixed on the door. Every five minutes, Estelle glanced at the clock. Every half an hour, the chime from the one in the hall set her more on edge.

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