Doctor Hanson spent thirty minutes examining Estelle. Vane suspected Hungerford had given her an overdose of laudanum and prayed to God he was right, and that no permanent damage was done.

While Vane stood waiting for the results of Hanson’s observations, Wickett returned and explained how Hungerford had darted across the street, dodged one carriage but fell into the path of another. The poor coachman failed to stop in time and now had the death of the foolish fop on his conscience.

The constable spoke to Vane and Mr Drummond, but as Hungerford had already met his end, the only thing left to do was fetch the coroner.

“The constable witnessed the incident himself,” Drummond said as they waited in the courtyard for the doctor to finish tending to Estelle. “He agrees it was an accident though I had to explain why my men were chasing him. One word from you should please the coroner when he arrives. I’d hate for him to think it was a witch hunt.”

“Trust me. Hungerford is the only one guilty of a crime, and I shall inform the coroner of all the facts.” Including details of the assault in the alley by a Frenchman from Spitalfields. Perhaps he might suggest they investigate the recent death of Hungerford’s wife, too.

Vane spent another two hours at Drummond’s yard. The doctor explained it would be beneficial to leave Estelle to rest for a while before moving her. And it gave Vane an opportunity to deal with the coroner.

“Good Lord,” Mrs Erstwhile said, rushing into the courtyard with Mr Erstwhile in tow. Vane had sent Wickett to speak to the couple, knowing they were awaiting Estelle’s return. “Where is she? Please tell me everything is all right. What on earth happened? Your coachman said Mr Hungerford is dead. Is it true? Is he to blame?”

Mr Erstwhile placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “My dear, at least let his lordship answer the first question before you bombard him with the rest.”

“Miss Darcy is sleeping in Mr Drummond’s office.” Vane gestured to the wooden building. “You may go inside and sit with her. Doctor Hanson said she requires rest but is certain she’ll make a full recovery.”

Mrs Erstwhile scurried off while her husband hung back.

“Wickett said Mr Hungerford drugged her in order to spirit her away.”

“Based on her constricted pupils the doctor believes she has ingested laudanum. And yes, the dose was given by Hungerford to subdue her while he made his escape.” One did not need to be a constable to reach that conclusion.

Mr Erstwhile shook his head. “Estelle avoids taking any medicine and always refuses my offer of a restorative.” Water flooded his eyes, and he inhaled deeply to keep his emotions at bay.

“Along with her slight frame, that might explain why she reacted so badly.” Vane put a reassuring hand on the old man’s shoulder. “You weren’t to know of Hungerford’s intentions.” Indeed, Vane struggled to fathom the fop’s rationale. “The coroner seemed so interested in the case, he decided to speak to the magistrate. When a man is confident enough to abduct a lady, the consensus is he may well have committed a similar crime before.”

Mr Erstwhile closed his eyes briefly. “And to think I left her alone with him, entrusted her to his care. The lady was out of her depth, and I didn’t see it.”

A pang of guilt hit Vane squarely in the chest. For a second, he had doubted Estelle’s loyalty. “The lady has been out of her depth for eight years, battling one criminal attack after another. If it is any consolation, I did not see it, either.”

They exchanged consolatory smiles.

“She deserves so much more from life,” Mr Erstwhile said. “Do you not think?”

Two weeks ago he would have refuted the claim. Eight years ago, he would have said she deserved a grand house and a prestigious position in society. Now, she deserved the only thing that mattered — love.

“Come.” Vane patted Mr Erstwhile on the back. “Let’s see how she’s faring. And then I shall escort you all home.”

* * *

Once back at Whitecombe Street, Vane carried Estelle up to her chamber. Mrs Erstwhile followed and settled her into bed. The effects of the laudanum were wearing off. And so, Mrs Erstwhile agreed to give them a few minutes’ privacy.

Vane dropped into the chair next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“The urge to sleep does not feel so great now,” she said. “Doctor Hanson assured me I should feel more like myself tomorrow.”

They stared at each other. So many words filled his head. But where should he start?

“At what point did you suspect Mr Hungerford’s motives?” he said.

Estelle took longer than usual to reply, no doubt her mind was still hazy. “I knew nothing until we arrived at the yard, but by then it was too late.” She sucked in a breath. “While I have found myself in many precarious situations over the years, I am just a naive country girl at heart.”

“You’re not naive, Estelle. Hungerford had everyone fooled.” Thank heaven for Mr Joseph. “Were it not for the fact I hired a man to follow him, you would be on your way to Bath now.” Bile bubbled in his stomach at the thought. “And I—”

“Would have believed I had left you once again.”

He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered. “You would have been the devil who betrayed me twice.”

A tear trickled down her nose. “I am too weak to talk at length now. But know that I never betrayed you, Ross. The only person I betrayed was myself.”

He didn’t know what that meant. Despite wanting to ask a myriad of questions, he knew now was not the time to pester her for information. She would tell him when she was ready, and somehow during the last week he’d learnt patience.

Vane captured her cold hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. He lingered there for longer than necessary. “Rest now.” He stood and straightened the coverlet. “I shall call again tomorrow to see how you fare.”

Estelle smiled. “Thank you. I dread to think where I would be without you.”

Her remark hit him like a lightning bolt to the heart. That was all he’d ever wanted. To be her protector.

“Have no fear,” he said in a rich drawl. “I’m sure I can think of a way you might repay me for my efforts. Pleasure is as good a currency as any.”

A blush touched her cheeks, bringing life to her pallid countenance. “I’m afraid you might be disappointed. I lack your experience in such matters.”

“How wrong you are. You’re the only one with the skill to please me.” He inclined his head. “Now, I must leave before I’m tempted to draw back the bedsheets and sidle in beside you.” He could feel a stirring in his loins at the mere thought. “I doubt Mrs Erstwhile could take another shock today.”

A weak chuckle left her pale lips. “You would be most welcome, though I can’t promise I won’t mumble and mutter incoherently. Then again, I imagine I’m not the first woman to fall asleep with you in bed.”

There was a touch of amusement in her tone and a hint of jealousy.

“It may surprise you to learn that I have never fallen asleep with any woman.” There was something intimate about the act, something deeply personal. “You would be the first.”

The energy in the room shifted. Desire sparked in the air between them. He imagined a host of delicious ways he might wake her in the morning: a gentle suck of her earlobe, nimble fingers wandering down to a warm haven, pressing his erection against her soft buttocks.

“You should know I’m an early riser,” he added just to fan the flames of lust a little more.

“I shall bear that in mind as I am full of vitality in the morning, too.”

“Then you should most definitely get some rest.” With a wide grin, Vane bowed. “Until tomorrow, Miss Darcy.”

“Until tomorrow, my lord.”

* * *

After spending an hour taking tea with the Erstwhiles, Vane returned to Hanover Square. He went straight to the drawing room, poured a glass of brandy and downed the entire contents.

Hungerford was dead — and he was not sorry.

Estelle had no intention of leaving — and he was elated.

Soon, he would have the answers he desired, and then eight years’ worth of suffering would be buried in an earthy grave, never to see the light of day again.

Excitement sparked in his chest when he considered a life filled with love, not bitterness and resentment. Reuniting with Estelle had wrought a change in him. The urge to fight rogues in the back alleys had abated. Though one man still needed to feel the full force of his wrath.

Vane contemplated stalking to the museum and creeping through the cold corridors until he found Lord Cornell. From what Vane had read, the explorer Belzoni had brought an Egyptian sarcophagus to London, and he imagined lifting the lid, gagging Cornell and depositing him inside.

A chuckle left Vane’s lips. There would be stories in the broadsheets of ghosts and curses, of strange mumbles coming from the ancient tomb. The museum would never be more popular as people stared at the gold coffin unaware that a man had slowly suffocated inside.

Or he could just march to Bedford Square, roll Cornell out of his bed and beat him into submission. But Vane refused to fight a weak man. And so that brought him back to Fabian’s plan to ruin the lord financially, to cause him great humiliation.

With his mind made up, Vane called Marley and informed the butler he was going to bed.

“But it’s ten … ten o’clock, my lord?”

“I know what time it is, Marley.” No doubt the man recalled the days when his master left the house at ten and retired at dawn. “It has been a long day.” And he’d not slept well these last few nights.

Marley inclined his head. “Of course, my lord, I did not mean to be impertinent.”

Vane noted the dark circles under his butler’s eyes. “You look as though you need rest, too. I have sent word to Sandford Hall, and you should be back to a full complement of staff in a few days.”

Almost three years had passed since Vane left this house and swore never to return. Consequently, he’d sent most of the maids and footmen to his country estate. With a house as large as Sandford Hall the staff were never short of work.

“Thank you, my lord. I know Mrs Barton will appreciate help in the kitchen and Pierre is distressed about the time it takes to launder your clothes.”

“Pierre is only happy if he is complaining.”

“He decided that all your cravats needed pressing, and that Lord Farleigh’s staff were unskilled when it came to keeping your linen white.”

“I shall speak to him in the morning.”

“Thank you, my lord, and may I take this opportunity to welcome you home.”

“Thank you, Marley. Now, let us both retire.”

Vane ventured up to his bedchamber. Pierre arrived to undress him, but Vane had no time for dramatics this evening, not when his mind was the calmest it had been in years. After dismissing his valet, Vane washed, stripped off his clothes and settled into bed.

Sleep came upon him in a matter of minutes.

He woke an hour later to the creak of a floorboard. With awakened senses, he listened for another sound but heard nothing more and so closed his eyes as he lay sprawled on his stomach.

His mind was slowly drifting when he caught a whiff of jasmine in the air. The scent irritated his nostrils. A gust of cool air breezed over his bare buttocks, and the boards near the bed creaked again.

Vane turned over and sat up.

It took a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. A figure stood but a foot away, gripping the corner of the bedsheets. He would have reached for the blade hidden under his pillow, but from her clawing scent and the flare of her hips, evidently the intruder was a woman.

“What the hell do you want?” And more to the point how the hell did she get in?

From the golden locks draped over her bare shoulders, it was not Estelle. Anyone else could go to the devil.

“Don’t play coy, Vane.” She slipped beneath the sheets. “You like to taunt me. You like to make it difficult as that is how you judge a woman’s worth.”

Lady Cornell!

As well as having an obsession with gothic novels, Lady Cornell had taken to inventing fairy stories. “Don’t presume to know me. You don’t have the first clue what I want or need.”

The harpy — for the labels ravenous and predatory did most certainly apply in this case — moistened her lips as her hungry eyes scanned his bare chest. “Oh, thou dost protest too much. Now lie back and let me show you why we belong together.”

Vane shook his head. Why the hell was he still sitting in bed with this woman? He threw back the coverlet and came to his feet.

“How in the devil’s name did you get in here?”

A smile touched her lips as her gaze shot to his cock. “Impressive. Let me see what I can do to get his attention.” She came up on her knees and palmed her full breasts. “Come to bed, Vane. I did not come here to talk.”

“I shall ask again. Who let you in?”

He strode over to the chair, grabbed his breeches and thrust his legs inside swiftly. Sometimes his cock had a mind of his own, and while flaccid now, he’d not give this woman even a twitch of encouragement.

“No one. I simply broke a pane of glass in the door leading to the servants’ entrance, reached inside and turned the key.”

“Then I shall be sure to send your husband the bill.” Vane found his shirt and dragged it over his head.

Unperturbed, Lady Cornell stretched out in the middle of his bed, her legs spread wide in invitation. “I know you’ve not bedded another lady since you returned from Italy.”

“And how could you possibly know that?” Vane considered how he might get her out of his house without using force.

She giggled. “Oh, please tell me you’re teasing. Surely you know that your conquests compare notes. How else would I know that you have a fetish for dominance? That you like it hard and rough.”

“I fear you have been ill informed on both counts.”

Her confident smile faltered. “You mean you don’t have a preference when it comes to dalliances in the bedchamber?”

“I mean I have no need to slake my lust for I am already satisfied beyond measure. And what I choose to do in any aspect of my life is no concern of yours.” Vane rounded the bed, scooped up the pile of clothes on the floor and threw them at her. “I shall wait outside while you dress.”

He had almost reached the door when Lady Cornell made an odd mewling sound. “So you have taken up with that strumpet from the apothecary shop. I did not include her in your conquests as it is clear she is of a different class. It’s amazing what a shilling can purchase these days.”

Vane stopped and clenched his teeth. He was a man who cared nothing for other people’s opinions. Yet he would not permit anyone to slander Estelle Darcy.

“That lady has more dignity and grace in her little finger than you could ever hope to possess. And when it comes to you, Lady Cornell, do you honestly think I would entertain the woman who played a part in my sister’s ruination?”

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “Your sister’s ruination? Why would you think I had anything to do with that?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Did you not tell your husband that we were intimate?”

Guilt flashed in her eyes. “I did not tell him directly. I … I might have mentioned to a few gossipmongers that you admired me, that you had suggested I be your mistress.”

“To make him jealous?”

She shook her head. “No! In the hope you might warm to the idea and make the offer. But in any event, was Lord Martin not to blame for what happened to your sister?”

This woman thought she had all the answers, thought it was all a silly game.

“Your husband believed your tales and blackmailed Lord Martin to ruin my sister, purely as a means to hurt me.”

Lady Cornell appeared genuinely shocked. She gathered the bedsheets up to her chest to cover her modesty and sat there with slumped shoulders as the gravity of what she had done brought tears to her eyes.

“Had I known my husband was capable of such a vile thing I would never have said anything. It was just gossip. I didn’t know anyone would get hurt.”

“When it comes to deception, there is always a victim.”

A tense silence filled the room.

Vane’s thoughts drifted to the countless times Lillian had cried in his arms. No lady should have to deal with such heartbreak. And what of Estelle: the smuggler’s lackey, the injured maid? She had borne her shame better than most — with a disguise and a level of acceptance he admired.

Lady Cornell suddenly gasped. “What if I was seen coming here?”

“Then your husband will soon learn of it and perhaps I may get the opportunity to punish him for what he’s done.” Vane pushed the thought from his mind. Cornell was weak and cowardly, and would never challenge him to a duel.

She blinked rapidly. “Do you want me to tell him? Do you want an opportunity to seek revenge? I will do anything for you, you know that.”

What he wanted was to take Estelle and go far away from these hypocritical fools. Yes, the burning need for vengeance still flowed through his veins, but revenge did not keep a man warm at night. And after shooting Lord Martin, Vane knew that satisfaction was fleeting.

“I don’t care what you do. But you need to leave.” He gestured to the mound of material. “Get dressed, and I shall escort you out. I trust you’ve brought your carriage. If not, I shall rouse my coachman.”

She nodded. “Yes, my carriage is waiting in the mews.”

Vane thrust his feet into his boots and left the room. He paced the hall to distract his mind. Lady Cornell finally emerged. Her mussed locks hung about her shoulders and she looked like she’d been tumbled in a haystack.

“Are you certain you don’t want me to warm your bed?” she said in a seductive lilt. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

How many times must he explain his lack of interest? “For fear of sounding like Lady Hamilton’s parrot, I think you know the answer.”

They descended the stairs and took the door from the hall that led down to the servants’ quarters.

“I’m afraid there’s glass on the floor,” she said as they approached the back door.

“I shall have someone clean it up in the morning.”

“Will you not carry me to safety?”

“Certainly not.”

They dodged the fragments of broken glass. Vane escorted her to the waiting carriage. Merely because he wanted to ensure she didn’t hide in the broom cupboard and sneak upstairs while he slept.

He opened the door, and she stopped before him. “I’m sorry for whatever pain Cornell has caused. With any luck, he is not long for this world, and then we can both celebrate.” Without warning, she kissed him on the cheek.

A gasp from behind drew Vane’s attention.

Another figure approached — smaller in height and frame. The woman had the hood of her black cloak raised, the gold lining framing her face like a halo.

She stepped closer, the light from the coach lamp illuminating her features.

“Estelle? What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you this evening.” Why was it his tone carried a guilty edge when he had done nothing wrong?

“I … I came because I had something important to say that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Then come inside.”

Lady Cornell gave a sly snigger.

Estelle looked at him, pain swimming in her eyes. “No. It’s not important now. It can wait until another time.” She noted Lady Cornell’s state of dishabille. She looked at his open shirt hanging out of his breeches. And then she swung around, picked up her skirts and ran.