The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

“I don’t know who you’ve come to see, my lord,” Drummond said. “But the lady’s name is Mrs Hungerford, not Miss Brown.”

Vane could feel the blood draining from his face. He shot Hungerford a hard stare. “You’re married?”

“Indeed.” Hungerford gave a satisfied grin. “This afternoon by special licence. Now, as you can see, my wife is unwell. We must be on our way.”

A cloud of confusion filled Vane’s mind. None of this made any sense. Was Estelle so adept at deception she’d feigned the depth of her affection? Did she despise his father for her father’s losses in the mining venture? Was she so aggrieved she would take her vengeance out on him?

Vane released his grip on the door and stumbled back. “Have no fear, Drummond. I’ll leave as soon as I’ve heard the lady say she is happy. I want her to tell me this is the life she has chosen.”

“Ross?” Estelle’s croaky voice reached his ears.

Vane stepped forward and studied her. Estelle tried to open her eyes, but it was as though her lids were too heavy. “Estelle? Can you hear me?”

“Will someone close the damn door!” Hungerford cried. “His lordship is determined to put my wife in an early grave.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to step back, my lord.” Drummond shuffled around to stand at Vane’s right shoulder. “It’s not right to trouble a lady when she’s ill.”

The burly coachman came to stand on the left. Without warning, both men grabbed Vane’s arms and attempted to pull him back.

“Get your blasted hands off me, else there’ll be hell to pay.”

“H-help … help me, Ross.” Estelle’s weak plea sounded genuine.

Drummond and his lackey dragged Vane back as Mr Hungerford leant forward and slammed the door.

“Good God, did you not hear what she said?” Vane writhed and struggled against their hold. He kicked the lackey in the shin. The man groaned but was far more robust than the rogues Vane had fought in the alley.

“Someone fetch a constable,” Drummond shouted.

No constable with an ounce of sense would dare arrest a marquess without consulting a magistrate.

“Go get your constable and be quick about it.” Vane twisted and squirmed in a bid to break their hold. “I swear I shall raze the place to the ground if that carriage leaves this yard. Estelle!”

“Happen you care for the lady, but it’s not up to me to meddle in personal business.” Drummond jerked his head at a man in the crowd. “Climb atop your box, Albert, and you can be on your way.”

Vane focused his mind. He dropped his weight suddenly, forcing the lackey to release his grip. With his free hand he swung for Drummond, catching him on the jaw though the punch lacked the strength to put the man on his arse.

Amid the mayhem, the coachman flicked the reins.

A click of a hammer brought a gasp from those gathered around. “Happen you didn’t hear his lordship clearly the first time,” Wickett said, breaking through the crowd while wielding a pistol in each hand. He aimed one at the coachman, the other at Drummond. “If his lordship has cause to speak to the lady, you’d best let him.”

A tense silence ensued.

Drummond stepped forward and opened the carriage door. “Beg your pardon, sir, but I can’t let you leave just yet.”

“Damnation!” Hungerford cried. “This is lunacy. Is there not a law about disruption on the highway?” He poked his head out of the carriage and called out, “Make ready to depart.” But the coachman refused to budge with a pistol aimed at his chest.

While Vane appreciated Wickett’s timely intervention, the last thing he wanted was to see his coachman swing from the scaffold. “Lower the weapons, Wickett. Drummond can see something is amiss.”

Wickett did as Vane commanded, but every man in the courtyard gave him a wide berth.

Drummond fell silent as he looked at Estelle. “Mrs Hungerford, would you mind stepping out for a moment? His lordship wants to know that you’re well before you leave.”

“Of course she’s not well,” Hungerford snapped. “Any fool can see that. Have you not listened to a word I have said?”

While Vane tried his utmost to remain calm, Mr Hungerford’s brash manner ruffled Drummond’s feathers.