The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

Joseph shrugged. “I do have a list of the places he visited this morning.”

Vane beckoned for the list with some impatience. “May I see it?”

“Happen it’s best I read it. When a man writes in a hurry, it can look like an ink stain.” Joseph checked his notes. “He went to see a fellow in Spitalfields. A French silk weaver, so my man Simmonds said.”

After the attempted robbery in the alley, it was not a coincidence. Perhaps it was not a coincidence that the intruder entered the Erstwhiles’ shop on the night they dined with Mr Hungerford.

“Did he go anywhere else?”

“He hired a yellow bounder from Mr Drummond on Compton Street. He told Drummond that he didn’t want collecting from the house but wanted to travel from the yard.”

So he’d hired a post-chaise rather than

travel by mail coach.

“Told him there’d be two passengers,” Joseph continued.

“Two passengers!” Vane stopped himself from shooting out of the chair.

Surely Hungerford didn’t expect Estelle to go with him?

A knot formed in Vane’s throat, so big it almost blocked his airway. Perhaps he was wrong, and Estelle was using the man to help her run away. He wanted to trust her, but not knowing what had driven her from Prescott Hall all those years ago left him with a flicker of doubt.

Vane coughed to clear his throat. “Do you know what time he’ll be leaving?”

“Six o’clock. Hungerford wanted to leave after dark, but Drummond convinced him it was better to navigate the city streets before the fog descended. I had to slip Drummond a couple of sovereigns to get him to spill his guts.”

Vane snorted. “I’m sure you will add it to my bill.”

Joseph glanced at the door briefly. “There’s not much to tell about the lord you wanted watching. He comes to and from the museum, mostly. Often late at night, though I can’t help but think he’s hiding something.”

“Concentrate all your efforts on watching both Lord and Lady Cornell.” Vane gave the runner a brief recount of the lady’s obsession. “And post a boy outside Mr Erstwhile’s apothecary on Whitecombe Street. Leave Hungerford to me.”

“I’ll see to it right away, my lord.” Joseph eyed the bowl of stew as though he’d not eaten for a week. “Are you having that?”

Vane had lost his appetite. He pushed the bowl across the table. “You’re welcome to it though I might stay for a while and order a drink.” It was too early to go home and sit alone.

Joseph was already tucking into the meal. “Happen you could help me with a few questions, then.”

“Certainly.”

“I’m investigating the theft of items from a gentleman’s club — watches, snuff boxes and the like. But I can’t go into the club to question the members.”

Vane relished the distraction for it took his mind off the urge to call on Estelle and ask if she was leaving with Mr Hungerford. Every fibre of his being told him she was not. Perhaps the man had made an offer to more than one woman. Still, Vane would wait until five o’clock to call at the apothecary shop.

If Estelle had left, then he would not chase after her. He would leave London and start afresh somewhere new. Perhaps visit Lillian, head out to a faraway place on one of Fabian’s merchant ship.

If Estelle remained in London, then the time had come to ask the one question branded into his heart. What the hell had prompted her to leave him all those years ago?

Chapter Fourteen

Estelle woke to the sun beaming through her bedchamber window. It was so bright she blinked numerous times before she could open her eyes sufficiently to see who was busying about in her room.

“Are you awake, Miss Brown?” Mrs Erstwhile’s voice penetrated Estelle’s drowsy mind. “I’ve brought you some tea. Mr Erstwhile says you’re starting with the sniffles and we don’t want you taking ill on us.”

Estelle shuffled up to lean against the pillows and drank in the welcome sight. “You look as bright as a button today. I know the stomach pains have subsided, but I didn’t expect to see you looking quite so cheerful.”

Mrs Erstwhile placed the cup and saucer on the side table and moved to the window to fuss with the curtains. “The restorative Mr Erstwhile made perked me up no end.”