The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

Whenever Rose spoke, he forgot other things too: her status, his morals and ethics. And so, he resisted the need to offer his arm and simply gestured for her to proceed first.

They walked around the manor, peering through every window, checking inside the outbuildings, trying the handle on the door to the servants’ entrance.

The house was still, silent, though in his mind he could still hear the groans and wails of the previous patients, the sound of them banging the windows, pleading for release.

“Have you always lived at Everleigh?” Rose asked as they wandered over to the stables.

“For most of my life, yes.” Other than the few years he’d spent in London. “I have a house in town but believe it’s better to raise children in the country where the air is clean.”

In his youth, he’d been like any other young buck. Trailing from one ball to the next, happy to indulge the pretty widows, to drink copious amounts of brandy, to do anything to annoy his father.

“Then you must remember when the manor housed patients.”

“Yes.” The word was but a whisper. “I remember.”

“Was it as dreadful here as they say?”

Christian contemplated her question as he unhooked the latch on the stable door and peered inside. “Grim would be a better word, though the heavy sadness in the air proved to be the most disturbing.” Indeed, he could still feel it clawing at his shoulders even though the house lay empty.

“There’s no one here,” Rose interjected as she glanced over his shoulder. It surprised him that she expected to find people in the stables and not horses. “Perhaps we should head back to Everleigh.”

Christian closed the door and gestured for

them to return to the courtyard. “I can write to the owner and explain your situation if it will help clear your conscience.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

They followed the path back to the spot where Valiant stood waiting patiently.

“Mrs Hibbet told me that the staff are not to mention the manor in your presence,” Rose suddenly said. “Were you acquainted with a patient?”

Christian stopped dead in his tracks. It crossed his mind to tell her that maids should know their place and keep their prying questions to themselves. But no matter how hard he tried to fight the feeling, he did not see Rose as a maid.

A tiny part of him wished the housekeeper had opened the front door and forced Rose to honour her word and accept the position. A life without temptation would be easier if not a little dull.

Perhaps sensing his disquiet, Rose sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not used to guarding my tongue. The conversation flows so naturally between us I often forget my place.”

“Life seems to be one constant readjustment,” he said remembering the way she clutched his waist when at her most vulnerable. He took hold of the horse’s reins and brought the animal to stand at his side. “Do you mind if we walk back to Everleigh?”

He could not allow his maid to ride while he walked. The last thing he needed was to feed the village gossips. And it would only make her transition from gentleman’s daughter to hired help all the more difficult. He refused to ride and watch her walk. The only other option was to ride together, but he’d already made enough mistakes, crossed enough moral boundaries.

“No, not at all.” She offered him a bright smile. “I’ve spent months indoors and relish the thought of time spent out in the fresh air.”

Christian led Valiant down the gravel drive. For once, the oppressive aura surrounding the manor did not follow him to the gate.

“My wife visited the manor on occasion,” he found himself saying. “Well, quite regularly in fact.”

Rose glanced at him as they passed between the stone pillars and turned into the narrow lane. “Please, say no more. I did not mean to pry, and I would not want to cause you any pain by reliving the memory.”

Christian met her gaze. The rays of the afternoon sun touched her loosely tied hair, the light drawing his attention to the wisps of gold at her temples. Like the warm glow that floods the body when one looks up at the sky on a bright summer’s day, Rose’s presence brought the same comforting relief.

“I’ve not spoken about it before, not to anyone.”

The truth shocked him. All those hours of silent contemplation and not one word had passed from his lips. Perhaps the only way to banish the ghosts of the past was to confront them. Stepping foot on the grounds of Morton Manor hadn’t been as harrowing as he’d imagined.

“Do not feel as though you have to speak about it now.”

Most ladies would have relished the thought of hearing secrets, would have squeezed every last drop of information from him in order to share it with their friends.