The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

Christian jumped over the stile and fell into a slow pace at her side. “Perhaps the earl has stolen the man’s mistress, and he refuses to accept the fact. What woman wouldn’t opt for a younger gentleman?”

“The earl is hardly what one would consider young.” Rose snorted but then caught herself. “S-someone told me he’s approaching sixty.”

“Sixty. No. The gentleman I met didn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

How was she to argue without revealing too much?

Rose cast him a sidelong glance as they approached the house. “And you’re certain you met the Earl of Stanton?”

“Undoubtedly. Now I come to think of it I recall reading that the old earl died. No doubt the fellow I met was the heir.”

Rose stopped abruptly.

Her father was dead!

How could she not know? Christian’s words echoed over and over in her head. Her heart lurched. Bile bubbled in her stomach and rose to burn her throat. But Oliver was the heir to the earldom.

“I would have brought them here,” Christian continued, “but with the woman’s vibrant red hair she bore a striking resemblance to Cassandra.”

Rose gasped. Nicole? Were Oliver and Nicole the two people who’d escaped from Morton Manor?

Christian stopped and turned to face her. “Is something wrong? Your face is deathly pale.”

She clutched her throat. Her father was dead! She blinked back tears of sadness, of regret. Now it was too late for him to make amends. Now his last cruel act would forever define their relationship.

“Christian,” she whispered as a black cloud descended to obscure her vision. And then she crumpled to the ground, sucked into a dark oblivion.

Chapter Twelve

“Heaven save us, my lord. What on earth happened?” Mrs Hibbet rushed to his side, her frantic gaze scouring Rose’s face and body as Christian held her in his arms. “Was it the fire? Is it the dreaded illness?”

“I’ve no idea.” Panic grabbed him by the throat leaving him barely able to breathe. He came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the grand staircase. “One minute we were discussing the fire, the next her legs gave way, and she fell to the ground.”

Mrs Hibbet touched Rose’s head. “There’s no evidence of a fever. She feels cold and clammy. If this is the start of the sickness, we can’t risk anyone else catching it.”

“There’s every likelihood she’s caught a chill.” Hell, Jacob had pushed her into a lake, and she'd swallowed a mouthful of murky water. She’d raced into the woods without a coat or shawl and inhaled the thick smoke, only for a deranged lord to attack her in a case of mistaken identity. “Perhaps the events of the day proved too much for her.”

“Still, we should move her to the servants’ quarters as a precaution.”

Everyone who slept below stairs had suffered from ill effects on more than one occasion. “No. The governesses here have never been ill. We’ll take her up to her room.” He bit back a groan as he considered carrying her up the stairs.

“Beg your pardon, my lord, but a governess never stays long enough to contract the illness.”

Mrs Hibbet had a point. As such, they’d never found cause to search that particular room. “Send Joseph or Dawkins to The Talbot Inn and ask Dr Taylor to call here on his way back to Abberton.”

“I’ll see to it at once, my lord. Poor girl, she should have drunk the tincture as the doctor ordered.” Mrs Hibbet scurried off along the corridor, muttering to herself as she went.

Christian mounted the stairs. Rose’s petite frame made the task less arduous. The door to her room stood ajar, and he kicked it open and placed her gently on the bed.

“Rose.” Christian perched on the edge of the bed, stroked her cheek and checked beneath her lids in an effort to wake her. “Rose. Can you hear me?”

A faint moan escaped from her lips, and her eyes fluttered although she didn’t open them straight away.

He sat patiently waiting. What else could he do other than hold her hand and whisper words of encouragement? Releasing a weary sigh, he pushed his hand through his hair.

Morton Manor was not the only accursed house in the parish. Everyone who dared set foot in Everleigh suffered in one form or other. Perhaps he should move away, take the children to London, at least for the time being. Perhaps he should give the reverend and Dr Taylor free rein to inspect every blasted corner of the house.

A weak moan drew his attention to Rose. Beneath her closed lids, he could see a sign of activity. Her body jerked as her breath came quick.