The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

After all these years, Estelle was alive.

It meant only one thing. She cared nothing for him when she ran away, cared nothing for him now. He was an easy man to find. So why had she not come knocking? Why had she chosen to work for an apothecary rather than ask for his help?

Disappointment filled his chest as did a crippling sense of inadequacy he rarely encountered. Damnation. Rage he could deal with, but this nauseating feeling of failure he could not.

Memories of his sister’s ruination entered his head. He’d been helpless then too, had sworn no one would ever hurt him in the same way again.

Anger resurfaced at the thought.

For eight blasted years, he believed he was somehow responsible for Estelle leaving, responsible for her death. Not once had she come to ease his misery. God damn, the woman hadn’t even bothered to send a note.

Unable to control himself, he punched the roof, the pain bringing temporary relief. Any other coachman would have slowed the horses believing the sound a signal to stop. Wickett knew better.

Farleigh sighed. “Rather the roof than you pounce across the carriage and take your frustration out on me.”

“From my reaction, I’m sure you can guess the outcome of my visit.”

“Then it is as her brother suspected.” Farleigh paused. “Miss Darcy is alive.”

“Oh, she’s alive.” Vane had felt the rapid beat of her heart as he caressed the soft mounds of flesh, had heard the hitch in her breath when he exposed the damning mark. “Estelle Darcy is working as an apothecary’s assistant no less.”

Farleigh knew him well enough to know what this sudden revelation meant. The belief that Estelle was dead had shaped Vane’s life, his attitude, all relationships, his reputation.

“She’s working for a living?” Farleigh seemed more shocked by that fact. “Then she never married?”

The comment sent Vane’s stomach shooting up to his throat. “How the hell should I know? I’m just the fool she abandoned. I’m the fool she cared nothing for, the one she left and never thought of again.”

“Clearly the lady has fallen on hard times. Perhaps there’s more to the story than that. After all that happened at Everleigh, I know only too well things are often not what they seem.”

“Good God, do not defend her actions.”

“I’m not. I am simply saying that until you’re in possession of the facts, you cannot make a qualified judgement.”

“Let me understand you.” Vane gave a snort of contempt. “You suspect a terrible event kept her away from her friends and family. One so terrible she let everyone believe she’d died on The Torrens. Why did I not think of it before? Poor Miss bloody Darcy.”

“There is no point talking to you when you’re like this.” Farleigh turned away abruptly and stared out of the window.

A tense silence ensued.

Vane tried to sit back, tried to close his eyes and pretend he didn’t give a damn. But a restlessness consumed him, one he’d gone to great lengths to suppress with loose women, brandy, and fistfights in the narrow lanes of St Giles.

Farleigh glanced at him numerous times before eventually saying, “Will you see her again?”

“Who?” Vane knew to whom Farleigh referred and was merely stalling.

“Miss Darcy. What did you say to her when you left?”

Damn right he’d see her again. While the voice in his head screamed never, his heart demanded an explanation, craved justice.

“I paid her the same courtesy she did me and left without a word. Once assured of her identity what more was there to say?”

“I see.” The corners of Farleigh’s mouth twitched. “Do you think you might still be in love with her?”

Panic shot through him.

Having spent years battling to exorcise the memory of Estelle Darcy, no other woman had ever made him feel the way she did. Oh, he’d sated his lust, but the tremors were superficial, failed to ease the clawing hunger within.

“Haven’t you heard?” Vane’s tone brimmed with mockery. “The only person I am in love with is myself.”