The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

“No. His lordship omitted to mention it, and it’s not a question a doctor asks. I heard the news from the baker in the village. Apparently, one of them came looking for work.”

Christian frowned but said nothing. Thank heaven Rose had remained at Everleigh. The thought drew his mind to the beguiling woman waiting for his return. She’d be pacing the floor, eager for news, fearing the worst.

Christian stood. “I should return to Everleigh. What with the manor being so close, I left the servants with their faces pressed to the window. They’ll want my reassurance there’s nothing to fear.”

Mrs Hibbet wouldn’t rest until she saw him cantering up the drive. And what of Rose? A woman with her courageous temperament would not stand at the window and watch events unfold. But she’d given her word that she’d remain at the house. And she would not break an oath.

Would she?

Chapter Eleven

“Close the window, Alfred. We don’t want any smoke in here. We’ve just had the tapestries cleaned.” Mrs Hibbet batted the footman’s hands away and pulled down the sash with such force Rose feared the noise would wake the children.

From the first-floor window, they had a perfect view of the drive leading around to the stables. They could see the amber glow skimming the tops of the trees around Morton Manor, the sky above a menacing orange and grey mass.

Two hours had passed since Christian departed, though the agonising wait made it feel like days.

“Surely he should be back by now.” Rose placed her hand flat on the window pane. The glass was warm beneath her palm. “What if his lordship has suffered an injury and cannot get help?”

Rose’s heart pounded in her chest. She could still taste the essence of the man she’d grown to admire. Could still feel the imprint of his hand where he’d gripped her waist in a moment of pure passion.

“Oh, his lordship knows how to take care of himself never fear.” Mrs Hibbet’s confident tone belied the nervous twitch of her mouth.

What if Stokes’ had started the fire out of spite or for revenge? The beast of a man thought nothing of hammering his fists into the face of anyone who got in his way. What if Nicole hadn’t left for London?

“Perhaps one of us should go and look for him?” Rose said. Christian couldn’t expect her to keep a promise when his life was in danger.

Mrs Hibbet raised her chin. “The master said to wait here and wait here is what we’ll do.”

“Rose is right.” Alfred glanced at the buttons on his shoes to avoid meeting Mrs Hibbet’s hard stare. “His lordship could have burnt his hands like last time. If a man can’t grip the reins how’s he supposed to ride home?”

Panic flared. An image of Christian lying crushed beneath the glowing timbers flashed into her mind.

“I’ll go and speak to Dawkins. Send him to check the lane to see if there’s any sign of him.” Rose had made up her mind, and so hurried along the landing and down the stairs before Mrs Hibbet could protest.

She had every intention of doing just that, but as soon as she stepped out into the open air, the smoke clawed at her throat. The smell of charred wood clung to her nostrils, and all thoughts turned to Christian. If she could feel the effects of the fire here, then surely those in the vicinity would struggle to breathe.

There was no time to go in search of Dawkins. And so she gathered her skirt and hurried along the path leading to the stile.

So much had changed since the night she’d lost her way and ended up at Everleigh. She’d taken the job as a maid purely to avoid seeing her father and being carted back to the manor. She’d taken the job of temporary governess because she felt an overwhelming need to help the children.

With one leg over the stile, she stopped and glanced back at Everleigh. Her heart melted. She loved how the house sat nestled amongst the trees, hidden away from the world. She loved the connection she shared with the children and Mrs Hibbet. Most of all, she loved the feel of Lord Farleigh’s lips when they moved wildly over hers.

Christian.

Her heart flew up to her throat when she imagined kissing him again. How had she ever believed herself in love with Lord Cunningham? But she’d been desperate to escape the clutches of a tyrant. Desperate to live in a house full of love and laughter. Desperate to believe anything.

Despair descended.

Her father would find her, eventually. Would it be a day, a week, a month? She had no idea. All thoughts turned to finding Christian, to making the most of the time left. And so she climbed over the stile and hurried along the path, eager to find the route that led to Morton Manor.

This time, an amber glow illuminated everything within a mile of the manor. The fork in the path proved easy to find. As Rose drew closer to the burning house, the heat from the flames roasted her cheeks. The smoke stung her eyes, and she coughed to clear the dust irritating her lungs.

For a second she thought she saw a black figure moving through the trees. Rubbing her eyes made them water, and she blinked numerous times before glancing up again.

The dark shape staggered towards her.

Rigid with fright, she froze. The knot in her stomach tightened. “Who’s there?”