The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

anted to crumple to the ground and sob until there were no more tears left to shed.

Perhaps she was still suffering after the harrowing events of the day. Perhaps the laudanum Mr Hungerford had used to drug her only added to her feelings of fragility.

“Estelle!” Ross pleaded. “At least give me a chance to explain.”

She ignored him, knowing that soon she would have to stop running. The pounding in her head had returned and the tears filling her eyes made it hard to see in the dark.

Ross grabbed the back of her cloak and swung her around to face him. She slipped on the damp cobblestones. One knee buckled, but she did not fall.

“Hold on to me.” Ross’ muscular arm slid around her waist, and he pulled her to his chest. “You should not have left your bed.”

“Why? Because you wish I’d not caught you cavorting with Lady Cornell?”

“I was not cavorting with Lady Cornell.”

“Then why did she kiss you? Why are you both half-dressed?” Her tone conveyed anger and disappointment, and yet being held by him was so comforting.

Damn these confounding contradictions.

“It is a simple misunderstanding. If you come inside, I shall explain.”

Lady Cornell’s carriage rattled past. She watched them from the window, a smug grin playing on her face.

“Look at her,” Estelle snapped. “The lady looks thoroughly satisfied to me.”

Ross dropped his arm, and she felt the loss instantly. “Do you honestly think I would entertain that woman while paying court to you?”

It was a trick question.

If she revealed her doubts and fears, she was admitting she didn’t trust him. Life in France had given her cause to trust no one. And yet, she desperately wanted to believe the best of him.

“I don’t know what to think, but I know what I saw.” For some bizarre reason, she wanted to be angry with him, too.

Ross took hold of her upper arms, not as firm as Philipe Robard had done, but in a gentle way that spoke of affection. “You saw a man roused from his bed by a madwoman intent on seduction. You saw me escort her to the carriage to ensure she did not return.”

“You must have invited her inside. You must have given her some indication that her efforts would be rewarded.”

Ross glanced up at the night sky and thrust his hands through his hair. “God, the woman needs no encouragement, and she happened to force her way into my house. Take a look at the broken door if you don’t believe me.”

Surprisingly, she did believe him. In her heart, she knew he would never lie to her. And yet her faith in him only served to accentuate the depths of her own deceit.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said with a resigned sigh as she took a step back. “It was foolish of me to come.”

“What possessed you to walk the streets alone at this time of night? This is not a smugglers’ haven. Mrs Erstwhile would have a fit of apoplexy if she knew.”

“Mr Erstwhile brought me here in a hackney cab, but I asked that he leave me just outside the square.”

Mr Erstwhile had caught her sneaking downstairs. She couldn’t lie to him and had revealed her plan to visit Ross. He was not her father and could not forbid it, but having his respect and approval meant the world to her.

“Are you telling me he permitted you to come to a gentleman’s home in the middle of the night?”

Mr Erstwhile was an advocate of true love. He was a man who rose above petty judgements, a man disillusioned with Society’s rigid rules. She’d told him she loved Ross with all her heart and that was a justifiable reason for her to come.

“For a wise man, he can be extremely naive,” Ross added.

He could say what he liked about anyone else, but she would not stand for him belittling Mr Erstwhile.

“I think you’ll find he is exactly the opposite. Everything he says and does is based on experience and sound judgement. His motives are free from jealousy and spite, unlike your father.”