The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London Book 2) Read online

  “Talking of evidence, there’s something I want to ask you.”

  Christian took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Ask me anything. I shall keep no secrets from you.”

  He thought he saw guilt flash across her face, but her gaze fell and then it was gone. “How do you know your wife and Mr Watson were having an affair?”

  Christian jerked his head back. “I found them together in their woodland hideaway. I heard rumours in the village. On a few occasions, Mrs Wilmslow mentioned Cassandra’s fondness for Watson.”

  “And that’s it? You never saw them together? Mr Watson didn’t admit to their adultery?”

  “Heavens, no. But I believe he took pleasure from controlling her, that he had something to do with Cassandra’s illness. Her condition improved when she returned from their sessions at Morton Manor, but often deteriorated in the days after.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know.” She moved to the chair near the desk, removed the letters from the book and handed them to him. “These letters bear no signature. How do we know Mr Watson sent them?”

  Christian gripped the letters and resisted the urge to crumple them in his fist. “You think my wife had another lover?” By God, when it came to Cassandra anything was possible.

  “Perhaps.”

  He waved the letters at her. “What? Are you saying I should read them? The woman took me for a fool. Why open old wounds? The best place for them is the fire.”

  “No.” Rose snatched them from his grasp. “You must see the logic in what I say.”

  “Of course I see the damn logic.” His wife’s depravity knew no bounds. Nothing surprised him anymore. “Not only do I suspect Cassandra was a serial adulterer, but I suspect her lover killed her that night.”

  Rose gasped and took an unsteady step back. “You don’t believe her death was an accident?”

  “You’ll probably think me a fool, but I saw someone in the woods when I dragged her from the fire. I believe the same person had something to do with Miss Stoneway’s death.”

  “Miss Stoneway?” Rose shook her head. “But you said her death had something to do with her mental condition.”

  “Then tell me what you make of this.” He strode over to the bookcase, removed the green book with the hollow interior he’d made to hide the key to Cassandra’s medicine chest. Now another key lay hidden in its place. He took it and opened the top drawer of his desk.

  Rose stepped closer.

  “I found this a few feet from Miss Stoneway’s body.” He removed a brass button and placed it on the desk. “I prised this from my wife’s hand on the night she died.” He put an identical button beside the first one.

  Rose stared at them for a moment. “May I examine them?”

  “Be my guest.”

  She placed the letters on the desk, picked up one button with her forefinger and thumb and held it beneath the candlelight. “Gentlemen often seek specific designs for the buttons on their coat or waistcoat. This is no exception. It has the same intricate detail one would expect from a commissioned piece.”

  A delicate leaf pattern decorated the entire surface, except for a small circle on the left which resembled the sun. Acorns and flowers covered the outer rim. “I’m sure you’ll agree, it is a rather unique design,” Christian said.

  “Undoubtedly.” Rose placed it down carefully and picked up the other button. “It’s identical in every way. Have you shown them to anyone else?”

  “No.” Until Rose wandered into his life, the only person he trusted was Mrs Hibbet. “I spoke to Dr Taylor on the night of the fire, mentioned that I thought I saw a figure in the woods near the cottage. But he’s of the opinion the trauma may have led to some confusion on my part.”

  “Did the coroner rule that Cassandra’s death was accidental?”

  “Yes, and he ruled Miss Stoneway died from fright.”

  “Fright?” A deep furrow lined her brow. “Is such a thing possible?”

  “According to the Bills of mortality, apparently so.”

  Rose fell silent. She stared at the floor and tapped her lip with her finger.

  No matter how long she stood thinking, Christian knew the answer would not come. Unsolved problems and unfounded suspicions plagued his every waking thought.

  “And the only connection your wife and Miss Stoneway share is that they were both patients at Morton Manor.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then, as difficult as it may be, you must read the letters.” Rose pushed the notes towards him. “A jealous lover may well have caused the fire at the cottage. If the letters are not from Mr Watson, then you must discover who wrote the missives.”

  Christian thrust his hand through his hair. “Are they as vulgar as I suspect?”

  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.”

  Panic flared.

  Miss Asprey examined Christian’s face with curiosity and interest. He supposed a mistress was always looking for her next benefactor should her current lover grow tired and move on.

  “Your name is Knight?” Miss Asprey said with mild amusement. “As when the sun has set, or as in the medieval heroes we love to read about in tales of olde?”

  Christian frowned. “As in those charged with defending a maiden’s honour.”

  “Splendid.” Miss Asprey clapped her hands together. “Now, before we sit — and I recommend we do sit as the matter calls for a calm, logical approach — we must express our gratitude for your help at Morton Manor.” She coughed once into her clenched fist.

  “Then please take a seat.” Christian gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. The ones regularly occupied by Taylor and Wilmslow. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the manor is but a mile from Everleigh. I came as soon as I saw the smoke.”

  “And we are grateful you brought Dr Taylor.” Stanton waited for his companion to sit before dropping into a chair. “With his assistance, Miss Asprey has made a speedy recovery.”

  “I trust your stay at The Talbot Inn is proving satisfactory.” Christian sat, too. He suspected they had no desire to pass pleasantries and wished only to address the matter at hand.

  Miss Asprey nodded. “Mrs Parsons has been most attentive.”

  After a brief silence, Lord Stanton cleared his throat. “We are here to discuss a matter of some delicacy. I don’t know you, Farleigh, but they say you’re a fair and honest man.”

  Christian braced himself. This was the moment they demanded the return of their maid. “I try to be. Unless I believe the cause is something worth fighting for.” He’d not give up so easily. Besides, Rose hadn’t signed a contract, and was under no obligation to go with them.

  “We’re looking for someone.” Stanton shuffled in the chair. “A woman with golden hair and a bright smile to be exact.”

  What an odd way to describe a servant.

  “Her name is Rose,” Miss Asprey added.

  Christian’s stomach performed numerous flips. “You speak of the missing maid?” It was better to come straight to the point.

  Lord Stanton frowned. “I think we all know the lady in question is not a maid.”

  “Indeed.” Rose was an angel sent to aid him in his hour of need.

  “Look, this isn’t easy to say, and so I'll go out on a limb and hope I can rely on your discretion.” Lord Stanton sighed. “I’m looking for my sister. Lady Rose Darby. She was staying at Morton Manor and left to go to London but never arrived.”

  “Lady Rose Darby?” Christian’s throat grew tight. A dark cloud descended. He blinked and tried to clear his vision. There had to be a mistake. Surely the earl spoke of another woman, not his Rose.

  “Yes,” Miss Asprey began. “We’ve been out of our minds with worry. She left determined to reunite with Lord Cunningham, but no one has seen her since.”

  “Lord Cunningham?” Again, he knew the name, not the man. “Is he a relation?”

  “Heavens, no.” Stanton gave a mocking snort. “She believes herself in love with him, though heaven knows why. The gentleman is a pompous fool who’s happiest when in front of a looking glass.”

  Christian sat back in the chair and covered his mouth with his hand for fear of cursing. How could Rose be so caring and intimate with him when she loved someone else? A cold chill swept through him. Frost formed around his heart. Soon it would be a thick casing of ice — a barrier against all liars and deceivers.

  An uncomfortable silence ensued.

  “Well, Farleigh?” The earl narrowed his gaze. “Am I right in thinking you have a lady here by that name?”

  Oh, he had a lady in the house called Rose, but clearly, he didn’t know who the bloody hell she was.

  “The woman you speak of came here five days ago.” His voice held no hint of emotion. He kept an indifferent expression, despite nausea crippling him from within. “Mrs Hibbet, my housekeeper, mistook her for the maid I’d hired, even though she was not due to start for another week.”

  Stanton sat forward. “I suspected as much. My groom, Peters, saw Rose outside The Talbot Inn yesterday and followed her here.”

  The Talbot Inn? Rose never mentioned leaving Everleigh. But it seems there were a lot of things the lady chose not to mention.

  “He said she’d cut her hair,” the earl continued in a tone brimming with disapproval. “Hence the reason he took his time before coming to me. Peters spoke to the doctor who confirmed Rose works here.”

  Taylor? Had the doctor made it his life’s mission to cause him misery?

  “Rose is no longer a maid.” No, she was the ruined sister of an earl, the one-time mistress of a viscount. “A lady with her intelligence,” and cunning, he added silently, “was better suited to the role of governess.”

  Miss Asprey looked at the earl and arched a brow.

  “Mrs Parsons said you’re a widower, my lord.” Miss Asprey’s tone held a hint of suspicion. If the earl sought a marriage proposal to save his sister’s ruined reputation, he could think again.

  “These last two years, yes. What of it?” It didn’t matter that he cared about Rose. If he took another wife, he needed to be damn sure he could trust her. The stress of living with Cassandra’s lies and deceit was enough to last him a lifetime. And his children deserved better.

  Stanton fixed him a hard stare. “I’m not asking anything of you, Farleigh, have no fear. Indeed, regardless of what people might say, I would not force Rose to do anything unless she expressly wished it.”

  Impatient for answers, Christian stood. “Then I shall send for her. She spoke fondly of you. I’m sure she will be only too happy to accompany you back to London.”

  Christian strode to the door, but the earl called out to him. “Farleigh, I must have your word you’ll not mention this to anyone. We must deal with this regrettable situation privately, and with the utmost discretion.”

  “Of course.” He couldn’t breathe past the lump in his throat. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. “You have my word.” Why the hell would he want to tell the world he’d been taken for a fool again?

  “I can only apologise for the inconvenience caused.” Stanton sounded sincere. “I doubt Rose was thinking logically when she agreed to work here.”

  “With the gift of hindsight, I’m sure we would all make different decisions.” Yes, including never hiring a maid without references.

  With an urgent need to deal with the matter quickly, Christian strode out into the hall. He summoned Foster and sent him to find Mrs Hibbet.

  “God damn,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he paced back and forth. He punched the air for good measure. Rose had used him. She’d used his children. And for what? To satisfy a curiosity?

  Mrs Hibbet came hurry
ing down the stairs. “You sent for me, my lord.”

  “Find Rose,” he snapped. Anger whipped disappointment away with a backhanded swipe. God, he had every right to show his disdain for what Rose had done. “She has visitors, come from The Talbot Inn.”

  “Visitors?” Mrs Hibbet’s bottom lip trembled. “Does it have anything to do with that fellow asking questions at the stables?”

  “I’m afraid it does. We don’t have much luck when it comes to hiring a governess.” Christian understood disappointment. This was different. This was akin to the ground trembling beneath his feet, to the whole world he’d come to appreciate suddenly crashing to the ground around him. He sighed. “It seems Rose is to leave us, too.”

  Rose tucked the children into their beds, kissed their foreheads and bid them goodnight. She slipped out of the room and closed the door gently with both hands. Only when she turned did she notice the figure pacing the candlelit hall. She slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek.

  “Good heavens, Mrs Hibbet,” Rose whispered as the housekeeper stopped and stood there wringing her hands. “What is it? Is something amiss? Please tell me the fever hasn't claimed another victim.”

  The woman appeared distressed. “Oh, I knew it would happen, eventually.”

  Rose closed the gap between them and gripped the housekeeper’s hands. “Knew what would happen? Is his lordship ill?” Heaven forbid something should happen to Christian.

  “No, dear. But he wants to see you in the study right away.” Mrs Hibbet shook her head. “Oh, this is dreadful. We’ve visitors. They’ve come looking for someone.”

  Rose took a step back as her heart flew up to her throat. “Visitors? At this time of night?” The words carried a nervous hitch. “Did they give their names?”

  She did not need names. The nauseous feeling in her stomach told her all she needed to know. For a moment, her mind went blank, all thoughts sucked into a spiralling cloud of confusion.

  “They’ve come from The Talbot Inn, Rose. They’ve come looking for you.”

  Rose’s knees buckled, but she managed to remain upright. “I see. Are they with Lord Farleigh now?”