The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

As she passed the children’s room, she took a moment to peek inside. They both slept soundly, unaware of the mayhem happening around them.

The sound of footsteps taking the stairs two at a time forced her to close the door quickly and turn around.

“My lord,” her heart fluttered in her throat, “you’re back.”

Mud splashes stained his beige breeches. A dark shadow of bristles covered his sculpted chin and jaw. His damp hair curled at the ends, just how she liked it. His equally damp coat clung to his muscular arms. He appeared the epitome of rugged masculinity, a feast for the eyes of any lonely woman with a soft heart.

“Rose.” He stopped short, brushed his hand down the front of his waistcoat as if that made him more presentable. “Should you not be in bed?”

“I’m feeling much better. Indeed, when you can spare a moment there is something important I wish to discuss.”

His curious gaze searched her face. “I have news too, and would be grateful if you’d join me in the study a little later.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Had he learnt of her deception? Surely not. Those intriguing green eyes held no hint of pain or disappointment. The s

mooth, rich tone of his voice carried an element of warmth and affection.

“And I wish an intelligent ear to listen to my musings,” he continued.

The compliment struck a chord deep within. Oh, in the ballrooms she’d received praise for her elegance and beauty. Lord Cunningham commended her for her kind, forgiving nature. No man had ever cared for her opinion.

The trust Christian placed in her was without warrant.

“I must say, I am intrigued to know where you’ve been all day.” Lord, she sounded like a wife, not a governess.

“Did you miss me?” A mischievous smile touched his lips.

In truth, she’d missed him more than he could know. She’d given up an opportunity to reunite with her brother in order to examine the powerful attraction that existed between them.

“It’s just that I’ve not thanked you for taking me to bed last … the other night.” According to Mrs Hibbet, he’d scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her room. If only she could remember him holding her close. “I’m afraid my memory of the event is a little hazy.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Should you have any questions, every second is ingrained in my memory.”

Their gazes locked, and the air vibrated around them.

The heavy trudge of footsteps on the stairs caught their attention and Joseph appeared carrying two wooden buckets of steaming hot water.

“Forgive me, Rose,” Christian inclined his. “I must bathe. But I shall be with you shortly.”

She thought to ask if he needed any assistance. The vision in her mind’s eye proved almost as scandalous as the contents of Lady Farleigh’s letters.

“Is there something else you wish to say?” he asked, and she realised her mouth hung open.

“No. I shall be in my room when you’re ready.”

He arched a brow. “Then I shall not keep you waiting long.”

Before she crumpled to the floor in a love-sick heap, she walked away. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor proved eventful when one lacked all feeling in their legs. Christian did not retire to his room immediately but watched her until she disappeared from view.

While she waited patiently in her room, the little devil on her shoulder questioned whether it was right to add more weight to his troubles. Perhaps she should wait to hear his news, to offer advice and guidance in the hope of easing his burden.

Thirty minutes passed.

A light rap on her door brought the footman, Joseph. "His lordship has asked to see you in the study." He kept his expression impassive, but she wondered what he thought of the time she spent alone with his master. Did they gossip about her below stairs? Did they disapprove?

“Thank you, Joseph.”

She followed the footman to the study. To her surprise, Joseph knocked and informed Christian of her arrival, as if she were a distinguished guest come for a visit.