The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

“I can walk, Papa.” Jacob sat up. Water trickled from his hair and down his cheek.

Lord Farleigh helped his son to his feet. “I’ll send someone to collect the basket.”

They walked back to the house in silence but for the water squelching in their boots. Lord Farleigh held Jacob’s hand while Rose clutched Alice’s tiny fingers. The heaviness in the air spoke of a range of emotions: sorrow, remorse, regret. Lord Farleigh’s arm brushed against hers numerous times, though he did not glance in her direction but kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead.

As they traipsed across the field, their hands touched. They could have attributed the discreet movement to their unsteady gait. But then his little finger hooked around hers, and they continued on their way.

Once back at Everleigh, the house erupted into chaos. Mrs Hibbet organised warm baths for them all. Lord Farleigh sent for Dr Taylor, eager to know that Jacob would suffer no lasting effects from swallowing so much water.

Rose sat on her bed for half an hour, brushing her hair, her mind a jumbled mess of emotions. Nicole was constantly in her thoughts. Jacob worried her. If his malicious pranks continued, someone could get hurt. And what of the intense attraction she felt towards Lord Farleigh? How ironic that a man with the name Knight was the one in need of saving.

A knock on the door disturbed her reverie, and Mrs Hibbet opened it a fraction and popped her head around the jamb.

“His lordship would like to see you in his study once you feel able.” Mrs Hibbet glanced at the brown bottle on the side table. “Perhaps you should drink the tonic Dr Taylor left for you. When the cold seeps into your bones, there’s bound to be repercussions.”

Rose refused to drink anything without knowing its contents. And if the potion worked wonders why were the servants still ill? One had to question the doctor’s competence. Perhaps he charged for his visits and was in dire need of funds. He wouldn’t be the first man to maintain a professional facade whilst suffering from a gambling addiction.

“A nip of brandy works better than any tonic I’ve ever taken.”

Mrs Hibbet studied Rose’s short locks. “His lordship knows that Jacob cut your hair. The child confes

sed to the crime.”

Rose came to her feet. “Then I had best speak to Lord Farleigh. To punish Jacob will only make matters worse.”

Mrs Hibbet opened the door fully. An affectionate smile lit up her face. “I told the master the Lord sent us an angel in our time of great need. Happen I was right.”

Rose knocked gently on the study door. Lord Farleigh called for her to enter. He sat behind his desk in dry clothes although his dark hair curled at the nape where the ends were still damp. Jacob sat in the chair opposite, rocking back and forth and nibbling his bottom lip.

“Ah, Rose.” Forgetting himself, Lord Farleigh stood and inclined his head. Even as a governess, he treated her more like a lady than any gentleman of her acquaintance ever had. “Please take a seat. After the incident at the lake, I believe a frank discussion is long overdue.”

“Of course.” She sat in the seat next to Jacob, reached over and squeezed the boy’s hand. “I trust you feel recovered and Dr Taylor has assured your father there’s no harm done?”

Lord Farleigh cleared his throat. “Dr Taylor will be with us presently. In the meantime, my son has something to say.” He nodded when the boy failed to speak. “Jacob.”

Jacob turned to face her but stared absently at a point beyond her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rose, for cutting your hair.” He bowed his head as a sad sigh breezed from his lips.

While she pitied the child, she couldn’t lie to him. After what he’d done at the lake, to say nothing was as good as condoning his unconscionable behaviour.

“You hurt me,” she said softly. The words brought a tightening in her throat. If her father were here, she would say the same to him, too. “You took something from me without my consent. Why would you do that when I have been nothing but kind to you?”

Jacob shrugged.

“Don’t you like me being here? Is that it?” Rose pressed him further.

Jacob finally met her gaze. “I do like you.”

“Then you have an odd way of showing it. I could have drowned in the lake.” When reinforcing a point, one had to be dramatic. “Had the water been a few feet deeper I might not be sitting here.”

Lord Farleigh sat forward. “The lake? Jacob told me what he did to your hair.” He shot the boy a hard stare. “I thought you’d slipped and fallen in during our game.”

Rose lifted her chin. “I did fall in, with a little nudge from Jacob.”

Lord Farleigh jumped to his feet and slammed his palms on the desk. “Is this true? For all the saints, tell me Rose is mistaken.”

At that, the boy burst into tears. He nodded. Then his shoulders shook as uncontrollable sobs wracked his body, and he huddled into a tight ball in the chair.

Lord Farleigh marched around the desk. “Why would you deliberately—”