The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

She nodded. “They detail intimate relations between a man and a woman, though they bear no resemblance to what we’ve just shared.”

The comment warmed his heart. “You mean the letters lack passion, tenderness, any true feeling or sentiment?” He almost used the word love.

“Precisely.”

They stared at each other for the longest time. The urge to join with her took hold, to push deep inside her body, to experience the sense of contentment he only found in her arms.

“Meet me later tonight.” He came around the desk and pulled her into an embrace. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere private.”

A blush touched her cheeks. “Perhaps we shouldn’t complicate things any more than they are already.”

“There is nothing complicated about our need to spend time together.” His words lacked conviction. Their relationship posed a problem on many levels.

“Perhaps we should focus our efforts on solving the mysterious sickness, and in finding your wife’s secret lover.”

She stared at his mouth and then kissed him.

Her actions and words worked in opposition. The way she grasped his shirt, the way she drank deeply from his mouth as though quenching a thirst, told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Perhaps she needed time to understand these newly awakened emotions. Perhaps they should do as she suggested and focus their efforts on easing their burden. Then he could work on making her position at Everleigh permanent.

Not as his governess — but as his wife.

Chapter Sixteen

A disagreement between two tenant farmers kept Christian from the house for most of the morning. He promised Rose he would read Cassandra’s letters but in truth welcomed the distraction. Upon his return to Everleigh, he spent an hour with his children and fought the urge to take their governess in his arms and convey the happiness filling his heart.

As the day progressed, he managed to sneak a few minutes alone with her. But passions raged almost to the point of no return.

Again, she pressed him to read the letters. Her sudden urgency to help ease his troubles led to a frank revelation. In all likelihood, either Dr Taylor or Reverend Wilmslow had committed adultery, and taken him for a fool. Who else could it be? Both men spent time alone with Cassandra. Both men showed an obsessive interest in searching his house.

Bile burned his throat when he considered how many times they’d sat drinking his port and smoking his cheroots. He used the term they and yet one man was innocent. But which one?

After dinner, he entered the study and settled behind the desk, ready to read the letters before Rose returned from putting the children to bed. Staring at the pile on the desk, he picked up the first one to hand, peeled back the folds and perused the words on the page.

Nothing shocked him, not the depths of his wife’s depravity or that of her lover. Despite witnessing Cassandra’s outbursts and tantrums, he couldn’t quite believe she would stoop so low.

The knock on the door brought a welcome relief.

Foster entered. “Excuse me for disturbing you, my lord, but you have visitors.”

Christian glanced at the mantel clock. “Visitors? At this hour?” If Wilmslow and Taylor had come to

offer an apology, they’d had a wasted journey. He looked for the salver. “No calling card?”

“Lord Stanton assures me he doesn’t need one, that you would understand the reason for such an oversight.”

Lord Stanton?

Perhaps the earl had called to thank him for fetching the doctor. More likely he’d come looking for his maid.

Christian stood. “You may show Lord Stanton in, Foster.” He placed the letters back inside Rose’s blue book, for safekeeping. She mentioned something about reading that too, and he would, but one thing at a time.

Foster announced Lord Stanton and his companion, Miss Asprey. While the lord’s dour expression confirmed Christian’s fears, Miss Asprey’s bright smile put him at ease.

“Welcome to Everleigh.” Christian inclined his head. While he preferred to take a friendly, less formal approach, he’d be damned before he’d let them take Rose. “I’m Christian Knight, seventh Viscount Farleigh.”

“Forgive us for disturbing you at such a late hour, Farleigh.” Stanton came to an abrupt halt before the desk. “But we have a matter of some importance to discuss.”