The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

Mr Erstwhile smiled and raised both brows. “Good day, my lord. No doubt we will see you again tomorrow.”

Chapter Nine

Upon witnessing Vane approach the carriage, Wickett closed his book and placed it on the box seat next to him. He straightened, gathered the reins in his gloved hands and sat awaiting a command.

“What were you reading?” Vane asked, grateful for an opportunity to tease his coachman. “Advice on how to deal with an obstinate master? Or how best to respond when one’s employer spouts gibberish?” Perhaps it was a book on witty quips to tease the upper classes. That’s what came of hiring a coachman who could read.

Wickett shook his head. “No, my lord. It’s one of those gothic novels all the ladies are talking about … Nocturnal Visit.”

“Nocturnal Visit?” Vane snorted. Wickett enjoyed testing his patience. “Let me guess. It’s about a man who gets lost in the fog at night and is ravaged by a wolf instead of an angel.”

Wickett shook his head. “I’ve got to the part where the lady realises her friends only like her when she has money. And now some fancy nabob has come and is turning her head with his flowery words and pretty talk.”

“Sounds rather like a night in a London ballroom.”

“That’s why the lady chose it. Happen there’s a message in the title as well as on the inside page.”

What the hell was Wickett talking about? “Are you referring to the plot?”

Wickett frowned. “No, my lord, I’m talking about the lady who came and asked me to pass on the message.”

“You mean the book really is entitled Nocturnal Visit?”

Gripping the reins with one hand, Wickett grabbed the book, reached down and gave it to Vane. “See, take a look for yourself.”

Vane examined the words embossed in gold on the spine. “They say Regina Roche is more popular than Ann Radcliffe.” He flicked to the first page, to the feminine script suggesting the sender make a late-night call to his house on Berkeley Square. It was signed in a delicate flourish. The lady wanted him to be in no doubt as to her identity.

“The lady’s maid was most insistent I accept the gift, my lord.”

“Burn it once we’re home.” Lady Cornell was quickly becoming a nuisance. “On second thought, I’ll keep hold of it for now.” He had no intention of granting her request but might need to use it as leverage at a later date.

Wickett nodded. “Are we to head back to the square?”

Vane considered the question. His time should be spent thinking of a way to ruin Lord Cornell — a legitimate way that would shame the fool. He should pry into the lord’s affairs, look for anything to use against him. But all thoughts turned to Estelle and her meeting with Mr Hungerford.

“Take me to Mr Joseph in Whitechapel.”

Now that Estelle had made a sudden appearance, Vane would give the runner another task to occupy his time. He wanted to know everything about Mr Hungerford. Specifically, why a gentleman of his status was keen to court a shopgirl?

Vane found Joseph in The Speckled Hen tavern, tucking into a meat pie. He sat at his usual table in a dingy corner next to the hearth. The man’s hard, sculpted jaw looked capable of taking more than a few punches. His eyes made him handsome in a rugged sort of way. They were an intense shade of blue, as inviting as a warm sea to a woman, as cold as ice should anyone rouse his ire. While he had once worked in Bow Street, now he worked for himself, conducted his business from the tavern, and paid the landlord handsomely for the privilege.

The low beamed ceilings proved difficult to navigate for a man of Vane’s height. With a slight stoop, he made his way to the bar, paid for two tankards of ale and instructed the serving wench to bring them to the table.

Witnessing Vane’s approach, Joseph gestured to the chair opposite. “My lord. We don’t often see you around these parts during daylight hours.”

The rotten smell of open gutters permeated the air, banishing the scent of sweat and unwashed clothes.

Vane gestured to the open window. “Do you mind?”

Joseph snorted. “You get used to it,” he said, reaching up and pulling the window shut. “I’ve had no luck finding the lady. Seems you’re right about her perishing on that ship.”

“There’s no need to keep looking. The lady found me.”

Had Fate thrown them together? Had Destiny a hand in their reunion? Had he learned whatever cruel lesson the Lord intended and so seeing Estelle again was his reward?

The landlord, a man with a dirty complexion and unkempt side whiskers, came with their drinks. He scanned Vane’s immaculate attire and eyed Joseph in such a manner as to enquire if he needed assistance.

“Nothing to worry about, Fred,” Joseph said, accepting the tankards.