The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

Perhaps the tonic contained a secret ingredient, though Estelle knew it wouldn’t be anything sinister. Mr Erstwhile would never force his wife to consume anything without her knowledge.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see a rosy glow to your cheeks.” Had anything untoward happened to Mrs Erstwhile, Estelle would have felt compelled to remain at the shop indefinitely.

“I’m convinced it was something I ate, and yet we’ve all dined together this week, and I was the only one taken ill.”

“Except when we dined with Mr Hungerford,” she reminded Mrs Erstwhile. Estelle had told the gentleman of her dislike for macaroons, and yet he had presented them with a tower of biscuit treats. “You were the only one to eat from the plate of macaroons.”

Mr Hungerford had done his utmost to persuade Mr Erstwhile to try one. Feeling under pressure to please his host, Mr Erstwhile had taken a macaroon from the plate and nibbled on the corner. As soon as Mr Hungerford nipped out of the room, Mrs Erstwhile offered her assistance and gobbled it down.

Mrs Erstwhile slapped her hand across her mouth.

“From what I recall, you definitely had two,” Estelle said.

Guilt flashed in Mrs Erstwhile’s eyes. “It might have been more like five or six.” She shook her head. “But I’ve never known anyone become ill after eating a macaroon.”

Perhaps they were ill if they ate too many, Estelle thought.

“Thankfully, you’re better now and should not dwell on it anymore.” Estelle reached for the teacup and cradled it between her cold hands. “Can I ask you something? It is of a personal nature.”

With a proud smile, Mrs Erstwhile hurried over and sat on the edge of the bed. “My dear, we speak openly and honestly here. Ask away.”

Estelle wasn’t sure how to phrase her question without it seeming rude. “Did you ever have any doubts about your relationship with Mr Erstwhile? Was there ever a time when you felt … when your positions in society made you doubt if things would work?”

Mrs Erstwhile did not look the least bit offended. “Oh, many times. Even when we married I still feared the pressure might affect him. I never cared about myself.” She screwed up her nose and gave a funny wave. “It takes courage for a man to go against everything he’s been taught to believe.”

Ross possessed the courage of a whole battalion.

“Love finds a way.” Mrs Erstwhile patted her hand. “Is this about Mr Hungerford or the marquess? I hear both men called to see you yesterday, and both promised to return today.”

“It’s about the marquess.” And her ridiculous notion that she was unworthy of his affection. “I care nothing for Mr Hungerford and desire only to make my position clear.”

Mrs Erstwhile’s expression grew solemn, and she cast Estelle a look usually reserved for starving match girls. “Most gentlemen are not as understanding as Mr Erstwhile. Don’t expect too much.” She leant forward and rubbed Estelle’s arm gently. “It’s not for me to tell you what to do. But if you’re set against Mr Hungerford, you must tell him so at once.”

Estelle nodded. “I shall do so today, without delay.”

“Good. Now finish your tea and take a moment to clear your head. You’ll find eggs and toast on the table if you have a stomach for it.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food. “I’ll dress and come straight down.”

Mrs Erstwhile stood and made for the door. “Take your time, dear. I have a strange feeling it’s going to be a hectic day.”

The hours from ten until one o’clock dragged. Customers came and went, with their wracking coughs and odd skin complaints. Every tinkle of the bell had her eyes fixed on the door. Every five minutes, Estelle glanced at the clock. Every half an hour, the chime from the one in the hall set her more on edge.

Who would call first?

She knew exactly what she would say to Mr Hungerford. But where on earth would she start when it came to Ross?

The answer to the conundrum appeared a little after one o’clock.

Mr Hungerford entered the shop, dressed elegantly in mustard trousers and a forest-green coat. Such a garish combination spoke of extravagance and a preoccupation with French fashion. Ross did not need grandiose displays to make a point. Power and wealth radiated from every fibre of his being.

“Miss Brown,” Mr Hungerford said after paying his respects to the Erstwhiles and asking after Mrs Erstwhile’s health. “May I say how marvellous it is to see you up and about. After getting caught in that dreadful downpour, I feared you would be abed for a week or more.”

“Not at all.” Estelle forced a smile. She imagined telling him that she worked with smugglers and was used to spending hours in the water helping to haul in stolen goods. “It was nothing more than a little sniffle.”

“Excellent. Then perhaps a stroll might do you a power of good. The sun is shining, and there’s not a cloud in sight.” He turned to Mr Erstwhile. “I trust you’re able to spare her for an hour.”

There was a time when to walk the streets without her maid would have been tantamount to a scandal. Now, her position came with a freedom she found equally constraining.