The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(60)



Estelle smiled. “Thank you. I dread to think where I would be without you.”

Her remark hit him like a lightning bolt to the heart. That was all he’d ever wanted. To be her protector.

“Have no fear,” he said in a rich drawl. “I’m sure I can think of a way you might repay me for my efforts. Pleasure is as good a currency as any.”

A blush touched her cheeks, bringing life to her pallid countenance. “I’m afraid you might be disappointed. I lack your experience in such matters.”

“How wrong you are. You’re the only one with the skill to please me.” He inclined his head. “Now, I must leave before I’m tempted to draw back the bedsheets and sidle in beside you.” He could feel a stirring in his loins at the mere thought. “I doubt Mrs Erstwhile could take another shock today.”

A weak chuckle left her pale lips. “You would be most welcome, though I can’t promise I won’t mumble and mutter incoherently. Then again, I imagine I’m not the first woman to fall asleep with you in bed.”

There was a touch of amusement in her tone and a hint of jealousy.

“It may surprise you to learn that I have never fallen asleep with any woman.” There was something intimate about the act, something deeply personal. “You would be the first.”

The energy in the room shifted. Desire sparked in the air between them. He imagined a host of delicious ways he might wake her in the morning: a gentle suck of her earlobe, nimble fingers wandering down to a warm haven, pressing his erection against her soft buttocks.

“You should know I’m an early riser,” he added just to fan the flames of lust a little more.

“I shall bear that in mind as I am full of vitality in the morning, too.”

“Then you should most definitely get some rest.” With a wide grin, Vane bowed. “Until tomorrow, Miss Darcy.”

“Until tomorrow, my lord.”



After spending an hour taking tea with the Erstwhiles, Vane returned to Hanover Square. He went straight to the drawing room, poured a glass of brandy and downed the entire contents.

Hungerford was dead — and he was not sorry.

Estelle had no intention of leaving — and he was elated.

Soon, he would have the answers he desired, and then eight years’ worth of suffering would be buried in an earthy grave, never to see the light of day again.

Excitement sparked in his chest when he considered a life filled with love, not bitterness and resentment. Reuniting with Estelle had wrought a change in him. The urge to fight rogues in the back alleys had abated. Though one man still needed to feel the full force of his wrath.

Vane contemplated stalking to the museum and creeping through the cold corridors until he found Lord Cornell. From what Vane had read, the explorer Belzoni had brought an Egyptian sarcophagus to London, and he imagined lifting the lid, gagging Cornell and depositing him inside.

A chuckle left Vane’s lips. There would be stories in the broadsheets of ghosts and curses, of strange mumbles coming from the ancient tomb. The museum would never be more popular as people stared at the gold coffin unaware that a man had slowly suffocated inside.

Or he could just march to Bedford Square, roll Cornell out of his bed and beat him into submission. But Vane refused to fight a weak man. And so that brought him back to Fabian’s plan to ruin the lord financially, to cause him great humiliation.

With his mind made up, Vane called Marley and informed the butler he was going to bed.

“But it’s ten … ten o’clock, my lord?”

“I know what time it is, Marley.” No doubt the man recalled the days when his master left the house at ten and retired at dawn. “It has been a long day.” And he’d not slept well these last few nights.

Marley inclined his head. “Of course, my lord, I did not mean to be impertinent.”

Vane noted the dark circles under his butler’s eyes. “You look as though you need rest, too. I have sent word to Sandford Hall, and you should be back to a full complement of staff in a few days.”

Almost three years had passed since Vane left this house and swore never to return. Consequently, he’d sent most of the maids and footmen to his country estate. With a house as large as Sandford Hall the staff were never short of work.

“Thank you, my lord. I know Mrs Barton will appreciate help in the kitchen and Pierre is distressed about the time it takes to launder your clothes.”

“Pierre is only happy if he is complaining.”

“He decided that all your cravats needed pressing, and that Lord Farleigh’s staff were unskilled when it came to keeping your linen white.”

“I shall speak to him in the morning.”

“Thank you, my lord, and may I take this opportunity to welcome you home.”

“Thank you, Marley. Now, let us both retire.”

Vane ventured up to his bedchamber. Pierre arrived to undress him, but Vane had no time for dramatics this evening, not when his mind was the calmest it had been in years. After dismissing his valet, Vane washed, stripped off his clothes and settled into bed.

Sleep came upon him in a matter of minutes.

He woke an hour later to the creak of a floorboard. With awakened senses, he listened for another sound but heard nothing more and so closed his eyes as he lay sprawled on his stomach.

His mind was slowly drifting when he caught a whiff of jasmine in the air. The scent irritated his nostrils. A gust of cool air breezed over his bare buttocks, and the boards near the bed creaked again.

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