The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

“I make it a point to take regular exercise. Good health must be a priority. As you know.”

Mr Erstwhile turned back to face them. A knowing smile played on his lips though it left Estelle baffled. “Then I have no objection unless Miss Brown would prefer to go alone.”

What could Estelle do other than nod and thank Mr Hungerford for his thoughtfulness? She would not embarrass Mr Erstwhile by offering a curt reply even though her employer seemed to have lost the gift of intuition.

“Thank you, Mr Hungerford.” Estelle forced a smile. “But I should like to hurry. Mrs Erstwhile has a list of things for me to do this afternoon.” It was more of an exaggeration than a lie, but she did not feel an ounce of guilt for it.

“We will work together to ensure you’re back in plenty of time.”

His congenial manner failed to express the sudden predatory hunger in his eyes. Thank heavens they would be walking along a busy street and had no need to wander alone through the warren of narrow lanes.

“Then I shall fetch my bonnet and jacket.”

Estelle left them alone, although Mr Erstwhile still seemed preoccupied with something outside. When she returned, the men were deep in conversation. Mr Hungerford had asked about her background numerous times, mentioned her eloquent elocution and education, had struggled to hide his frustration when she became evasive.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Brown.” Mr Hungerford straightened. He offered his arm. It mattered not that she worked for a living and he received an income of almost a thousand pounds a year. A fact he’d been quick to mention over dinner. “Shall we head out?”

“Certainly.” With a deep sense of dread, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Mr Erstwhile opened the door, looking almost pleased by the prospect of them spending time together. How odd he should offer encouragement when he was an advocate of true love.

They left the shop, had taken but ten steps when Mr Hungerford could no longer suppress his impatience. Barely contained excitement coloured his cheeks. Indeed, he was like a valet whose master had given him a diamond cravat pin for Michaelmas.

Mr Hungerford stopped abruptly, forcing her to turn and face him. “I came today hoping to have a quiet word with you alone.”

“Oh, and why is that?” The incident at the shop had not deterred him, and so it was better to deal with the matter quickly.

“It cannot have escaped your attention that I admire you greatly, Miss Brown.”

The man’s wife died four months earlier. Clearly, he belonged to the club where women were considered a necessary accoutrement. Mr Hungerford had no children and so should be in no rush to marry. Then again, perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps he wanted a mistress, not a wife.

“If I’ve learnt anything these last few years,” he continued, “it is that life is too short not to act on one’s feelings. Although Miriam passed so recently, her illness forced us apart long before.”

Estelle swallowed down her apprehension. “Mr Hungerford, I must tell you that—”

“Please, Miss Brown, allow me to speak before nerves get the better of me.” Mr Hungerford reached for her hand and clutched it tightly.

“Sir, you have forgotten yourself. Has it slipped your attention that we are standing in the street?” Estelle glanced left and right, frustrated that the few passers-by paid them no heed.

But then something caught her eye: a black carriage parked further along on the opposite side of the street. A figure stood watching them intently beneath the brim of his top hat as he leant against the door, his muscular arms folded defiantly across his chest.

Ross?

Locking eyes with her, he pushed away, tugged on the cuffs of his dark blue coat and stalked towards them like a wolf on the prowl.

Good Lord!

Mr Hungerford gripped her hand. “Miss Brown, when a man has something important to say he does not care who raises a disapproving brow. I know we have only known each other for a month, but—”

“I beg you, say no more, sir.” Panic infused her tone. Her heart flew up to her throat. “I fear now is not the time for declarations.”

She looked up as Ross mounted the pavement.

How could she ever have thought him the same man she knew in her youth? A dark and dangerous energy radiated

from every fibre of his being. Ross Sandford’s hard, unforgiving expression could frighten the Devil. Perhaps he had risen from the fiery pits of Hell, for the sight of him ignited a scorching heat deep in her core.

“Miss Brown.” Ross offered a graceful bow. There was something sleek and seductive about the simple movement. Ice-blue eyes settled on Mr Hungerford and then fell to their clasped hands.

“Lord Trevane.” Estelle swallowed in an attempt to catch her breath. She tugged her hand free from Mr Hungerford’s grasp. “I must say I’m surprised to see you. Do you have business in Whitecombe Street?”