The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

Lady Rose Darby, daughter of the Earl of Stanton.

“Rose.”

The woman’s curious gaze searched Rose’s face. “Happen your mother chose well. Now try to sleep, dear. You have an early start in the morning. I hope your back is up to the task as you must do the work of two.”

The work of two? After the months spent at Morton Manor, she’d learnt to style her hair, make and change a bed, and light a fire with a tinderbox. She’d even punched a man to escape her prison.

Nothing could be more difficult than that.

Chapter Two

Christian Knight, seventh Viscount Farleigh, slumped back in the chair behind his desk, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. With any luck, he’d misheard Mrs Hibbet. Or perhaps he was living a scene from a terrible nightmare, and he’d wake in a sweat and with a sudden gasp of relief.

“Did you say Mrs Booth has left?” He cleared his throat to prevent a vile curse from escaping. “Surely not. She’s been here but a week.”

Mrs Hibbet exhaled slowly. “She found toads in her bed, my lord.”

“Toads!” During his reckless youth, he’d woken to find the odd toad in his bed, too, but he didn’t tear off into the night and turn his back on his responsibilities. “I assume these particular amphibians didn’t hop up three flights of stairs and unlock her door with a key?”

“I’ve no idea how they found their way in here, my lord.” Mrs Hibbet raised her chin. If the house came crumbling down around them, she would never blame the children.

“And where are these slippery creatures?”

“Joseph gathered them up in a basket and released them back into the pond.”

Christian sat forward. “And so what are we to do now?”

Mrs Hibbet struggled to hold his gaze. “Is … is there any point hiring another governess? After all, the twins are but seven years old. There’s plenty of time for tutoring and the like. And I’m not sure a firm hand is what’s needed.”

In any other household, the master would chastise the staff for pressing their opinion. But in the two years since Cassandra’s death, he’d come to look on Mrs Hibbet as a member of the family.

“As their father, you know I cannot tolerate their constant disobedience.” He wished to live in peace and harmony. He wished the house rang with laughter. That all their hearts swelled with nothing but love. “Never mind what happened to Mrs Booth. Mrs Marshall could have broken her neck when she slipped on that sticky substance they smothered over the stairs. How long did she last? Ten days?”

The pain in his chest returned.

His children were his only love, his only failure. Well, not quite. His marriage to Cassandra had been a disaster from the beginning. But that’s what came from marrying too young.

Christian rubbed his aching temple. “I don’t know what to do to help them. The children tell me everything is fine, yet I sense the pain eating away inside.”

Mrs Hibbet shuffled forward. “You don’t have to make a decision straight away. Why not leave them for a week or two? Let them spend time without the constant rules and regulations.”

“We’re minus three maids, a groom and a governess.” Christian snorted. “We’ve barely enough staff to keep the fires stoked let alone tend to two children intent on causing mischief. I need to visit the tenants and assess the repairs to the cottages. And Reverend Wilmslow wants me to attend a meeting to discuss the church roof.”

Despite being head of an affluent family, and receiving a three-hundred pound a year stipend, the reverend was forever snapping at his heels pleading for funds.

“Then it’s just as well I’ve got news that might make things easier.” Mrs Hibbet rushed to the door, yanked it open and summoned the person waiting in the hall.

A maid entered and walked up to his desk. She offered a curtsy graceful enough to appease a king. The grey dress should have made her appear dull, her skin sallow, and yet she possessed a natural radiance that lit up the room.

“This is Rose, my lord, come from London.” Mrs Hibbet smiled. “She wasn’t supposed to arrive until next week. Happen someone saw fit to send us an angel in this great time of need.”

Rose.

He could almost smell the sweet, hypnotic scent.

An angel.

Golden hair framed her face like a halo. If he ripped off her white cap, those tresses would come tumbling down in all their glory.