The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

Normality?

A mocking snort escaped, but he didn’t have time to consider the ludicrous thought. The door handle rattled, and before he could blink, Rose entered the room.

Christian’s heart thumped in his chest. Even with thin drawn lips and sagging shoulders, she looked angelic. When she walked, her gait appeared clumsy and awkward, as if she carried the heavy weight of her deceit in a sack on her back.

“Christian.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your paper and ink.” With an outstretched hand, she stepped forward. The letters quivered in her trembling fingers. “They’re for the children, to explain why I must leave.”

He snatched them, noted there were two. “What, do I not deserve an explanation?”

She struggled to look at him. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” The rapid rise and fall of her chest drew his attention. “At the time, I needed somewhere to stay and well … it was all a terrible misunderstanding.”

“Terrible, is that how you describe your time here?” He downed another mouthful of brandy rather than say something he might later regret.

“No, you’re twisting my words.” Rose shook her head. She placed her hand over her heart. “Wonderful is the only way I can describe my time here.”

He wished he could believe her. By God, a huge part of him wanted to trust every word that breezed through those luscious lips. But the lady did not know her own mind. And he couldn’t risk his family’s stability on a whim.

“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered.

How could he ever know what was true?

She shuffled closer, reached out to touch him but then dropped her hand. “I’m the same woman you confided in, the one who listened to you and offered advice. I’m the same woman you kissed so passionately. The same woman—”

“Enough!” He raised a hand to silence her. She was killing him. The ice encasing his heart cracked. One more word and he would take her in his arms, forgive every one of her sins. One more word and he’d be doomed to a life borne of deceit. “I’m weary of explanations. We’re too different. I’m looking for peace and harmony while you’re looking for adventure.”

She shook her head again, but he did not give her an opportunity to answer.

“Go now. You have a gentleman waiting for you in London. Only a week ago you believed yourself in love with him.” His throat was so tight he could barely speak. “I shall give the letters to the children, explain that you didn’t want to leave, but your position in society demands it. No doubt Alice will decide she hates the aristocracy.”

A weak smile formed on her lips. “You have the most beautiful children.”

“In that, we agree.”

“Rose.” Stanton cleared his throat to catch their attention. He lingered in the doorway. “We should go.”

She shot her brother a hard stare.

“Your brother is waiting.” Christian glanced at her hand, thought about bringing it to his lips, but dismissed the idea. “Goodbye, Rose.” The gut-wrenching pain in his stomach returned.

“Goodbye, Christian.” A tear trickled down her nose and dropped onto her chin. Without warning, she rushed forward and kissed his cheek. “I shall miss you,” she whispered and then she ran from the room and closed the door.

Two days had passed since Rose’s swift departure.

Leaning back against the wooden shutter, Christian stared out of the study window at the woods separating Everleigh and Morton Manor. So much had changed in such a short time. The house felt empty without Rose. He’d lost the only woman he’d ever wanted. He missed the smell of her skin, the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand. Mrs Hibbet tried her best to entertain the children but an air of despondency had settled, and no one knew quite what to do about it.

He played the events of the last week over in his mind, dissecting each lie, making an excuse for each one. For some reason, he couldn’t see Rose in the same light as Cassandra. Had he been too hasty in letting her leave? He should have listened to her explanation.

A knock on the door brought Mrs Hibbet. “Forgive me, my lord. But Jane has returned from her stay in Abberton. Her poor mother passed, and now she’s keen to return to work.”

“I’m sure you’ve told her how pleased we are to have her back.”

“Well, let’s hope we’ve no bouts of sickness for a while. The bed hangings need cleaning. We’ve not polished the silver for a month, and Cook wants help to organise the pantry.”

Christian raised a brow. “You don’t normally give me a breakdown of the household chores. Is there something else you wish to say?”

Mrs Hibbet clasped her hands in front of her. “The children miss Rose. We all do.”

“Indeed.” He’d had sleepless nights thinking of nothing else.