The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(55)

He strode up to Mr Erstwhile’s door and pasted a smile. Good God, his heart was beating so hard against his ribs he feared the organ might burst from his chest.

The bell tinkled as he entered. Mr Erstwhile stood behind the counter grinding a sweet-smelling herb with a mortar and pestle. With a steady hand, Mrs Erstwhile decanted liquid into a blue bottle. They both looked up to greet their customer.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” Mr Erstwhile smiled. “I hoped we might see you today.”

Why? Did he plan on putting Vane out of his misery once and for all?

“I did say I would return to see Miss Brown.” Noting the lady’s absence in the shop, he added, “I trust she is well.”

“Indeed, she is.”

“It was just a little chill,” Mrs Erstwhile said. “Nothing that a day in bed couldn’t cure.”

They stared at him for a moment as if waiting for him to speak.

Mr Erstwhile wiped his hands on the brown apron tied around his waist. “Would you care to come through to the parlour and take tea, my lord?”

Vane’s racing heartbeat pounded in his ears. “Will Miss Brown be joining us?” Or was this the part where he discovered she had already left.

“As you know I am a man of truth, my lord. It pains me to call the lady Miss Brown when we both know that is not her name.”

So, he knew everything.

“Miss Darcy told you about our history?”

“The lady has been through so much. We all need someone in whom we can confide, someone impartial.” Mr Erstwhile gestured to the hall. “Come. Let us sit for a while and wait for Miss Darcy to return.”

Vane’s heart sank to his stomach. “You mean to tell me the lady is not here?”

Panic gripped him by the throat. She promised she would inform him should she be inclined to run again.

Mr Erstwhile must have sensed his despair for he gave a reassuring smile. “She has not left on the mail coach if that is what you fear. No, she has gone out with Mr Hungerford for an hour, merely to decline his offer of marriage. After all, a lady cannot marry a man when she is in love with someone else.”

Vane heard the words, but his mind struggled to process the information. So Estelle had left with Mr Hungerford.

“Did she tell you where they were going?”

Mr Erstwhile frowned. “For a stroll, I think. Why? What has you in such a fluster?”

Anger flared. If Estelle had taken him for a fool again, the entire world would feel the Devil’s wrath. The lady was more than capable of deceit. So why did his pained heart scream for him to trust her? Perhaps because he was a lovesick fool.

“Mr Hungerford has hired a post-chaise,” Vane said bluntly. “He is to take receipt of the vehicle at three o’clock today. I’m told he’s going to Bath, that the coach was hired to ferry two passengers.”

Mr Erstwhile glanced at the wall clock. “Then I must assume he will return with Miss Darcy promptly if he wishes to be at the yard in time to satisfy the contract.”

“Indeed,” Mrs Erstwhile began. “Miss Darcy promised to be no more than an hour.”

Were they naive, too trusting, or was he suffering from an overactive imagination?

“You’re both missing the point. What if Miss Darcy decided to leave with him?”

“Leave with Mr Hungerford?” Mrs Erstwhile shook her head and looked at him as if he’d said the sky was falling. “No, my lord. She told me this morning that she cares nothing for the man. I imagine the other passenger is his valet.”

No valet worth his weight in gold would dress a man so tastelessly. Well, Pierre might, which was why Vane kept him on a tight leash.

Vane removed his hat and thrust his hand through his hair. “Then I shall head to Compton Street to discern the truth for myself.”

“Then you must come back and let us know all is well.” Mrs Erstwhile hastened around the counter to open the door. “There is every chance Miss Darcy will be here when you return.”

Mr Erstwhile met his gaze. “A man must reserve judgement until he has determined the facts.”

Vane nodded, but it was far easier to spout wise words than to live by them.



Deciding that navigating conveyances and carts would only hinder his progress, Vane opted to walk. He instructed Wickett to meet him outside Mr Drummond’s yard on Compton Street. After a few long strides, a sudden sense of urgency took hold. It niggled away in his chest forcing him to break into a run.

People stopped and stared as he barged past, confusion marring their brows. They scanned the length and breadth of the street. Was there a fire or robbery? Was a drunken lord running amok to avoid a constable?

When he reached Princes Street, the compulsion to hurry developed into a mild panic and then into an intense fear that consumed him mind and body. He had lost Estelle once. Twice if he counted the shipwreck. A deep sorrow had lived in his heart ever since, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost her again.

As predicted, Vane reached Mr Drummond’s yard before Wickett.

The large wooden gates were wide open. Stable hands were out in the courtyard, taking receipt of hired horses. Boys as young as ten led fresh horses from the stables to those gentlemen waiting for an exchange. Other boys had the sorry task of sweeping up after the muscled beasts.

A row of yellow bounders lined the back wall. One man was securing the harness on a post-chaise. Two coachmen, both dressed in boxcoats and gripping whips in their hand, stood conversing next to the vehicles.