The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London Book 1)

by Adele Clee

  Oliver had stayed at the inn to gather information about the inhabitants of Morton Manor. Had he known of Rose’s escape he would have asked more pertinent questions about the area, would have paid more attention to the other patrons coming and going.

  Miss Flint stared through him, her wide eyes transfixed on some imagined scene. “Last night, running away seemed like the perfect plan.” She blinked and heaved a weary sigh. “Now, in the cold light of day, it was foolish of me to let her leave.”

  “Rose is far more robust than she appears.” Oliver drew comfort from his own words. But in truth, he remembered her being fragile, easily startled. Like Miss Flint, he bore some of the blame for his sister’s unfortunate situation. “Equally, her experiences at the manor will have given her the ability to cope in trying situations.”

  Miss Flint shuffled closer to the window and looked out at the passing fields. “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Six

  As soon as the earl’s carriage passed through the turnpike, the hustle and bustle of city life brought with it a renewed sense of trepidation. Nicole’s heart raced. Two hours spent with her eyes fixed firmly on the road, hoping to spot Rose, had been for nought. The ache in her chest grew more profound with each passing mile. The earl’s frustrated mutterings and mumbled curses only made matters worse.

  “Let us pray Rose reached London safely and is in the care of Lord Cunningham,” Nicole said as guilt twisted its sharp blade deep into her chest.

  “If Rose is with Cunningham, we shall need more than Divine intervention to save her,” the earl snapped.

  It was obvious the earl detested the gentleman, but perhaps he was looking for a way to shift the blame. “But Lord Cunningham has already proposed. They will wed, and all will be well.”

  The earl rolled his eyes and sighed. “While your courage knows no bounds, Miss Flint, you have a lot to learn about the dissolute men of the ton. Having alluded to your own harrowing experience with such a gentleman, I’m surprised by your naivety.”

  Nicole snorted, albeit silently. She had suffered cruelty at the hands of her brother, not a rakehell. Greed had tainted Jeremy’s heart and blackened his soul. As her only kin, he viewed her as property for sale or barter. But hope lived in her breast, bold and bright. There were good, selfless men alive in the world ready to oppose his wicked plans — there had to be.

  “You’re right,” she said. After the abominable way his father had behaved, the earl had every right to question people’s motives. “I know nothing of Lord Cunningham and should learn to base my judgements on the facts. The fact is Rose has far too much integrity to spend her life with a cold-hearted devil.”

  Her reply failed to wipe the look of contempt off his face. “Deception is a skill many young bucks strive to master.”

  The words suggested he was of an older generation, not a virile man of five-and-twenty.

  “Were you not a young buck once?” she teased. “Is this your way of warning me to be cautious of your motives?”

  “Of course not. I am not eager to wed you so I may steal your fortune to pay my gambling debts.”

  “You believe that is the basis of Lord Cunningham’s interest in your sister?” Nicole swallowed down her surprise. “You underestimate Rose’s appeal. She has so much more to offer than money.” Rose had charm and grace. She possessed a kind, innocent beauty any man would treasure.

  “I fear your trusting nature may prove to be your downfall, Miss Flint.”

  “And your lack of faith could well be yours, my lord.”

  Silence ensued.

  Aware of his eyes fixed firmly on her person, Nicole met his intense gaze.

  There was nothing he could say or do to intimidate her. Even so, heat crept up her neck to flame her cheeks. Her heart fluttered like an annoying little butterfly desperate for an opportunity to burst free.

  It was those remarkable blue eyes of his that roused these strange sensations. While his firm jaw and pursed lips conveyed an aristocratic arrogance, those dazzling blue pools invited one to delve deeper, to dive into the soulful waters with the promise of finding sunken treasure.

  She sighed to herself. If only the earl believed in love.

  When the carriage turned right into Holles Street and came to a stop outside a row of townhouses, the earl finally diverted his attention.

  Nicole studied the elegant facade. Each house was identical to its neighbour. Individuality was considered unfashionable in the ton. “I assume this is Lord Cunningham’s house?” It would be Rose’s home, too, once they wed.

  “Yes. There are rumours he owns another house somewhere in Town, though he is determined to hide the fact from his creditors.” The earl threw open the door and jumped down to the pavement. “Wait here.”

  Nicole had no intention of arguing. She would happily spend the next few days eating and sleeping in his carriage if it reduced the odds of bumping into one of Jeremy’s friends.

  She watched Lord Stanton march up to the front door and slam the knocker against the brass plate as if hitting it against Lord Cunningham’s forehead. The butler answered. They spoke for a minute, no more. From the servant’s impassive expression, it was difficult to follow the conversation.

  With a visible huff, the earl stomped back to the carriage, yanked open the door and climbed inside.

  “I presume Lord Cunningham is out?”

  The earl shook his head, muttered a curse and threw his hat onto the seat. “Cunningham left home an hour ago, and the butler refuses to disclose where. Damn it all. If he’s on his way to Scotland with Rose, we’ll struggle to catch them.”

  “No decent butler would discuss his master’s plans.” An aggressive approach rarely worked with those who possessed a sense of pride in their work. “Surely you know that.”

  “It seems Cunningham’s staff are more loyal than the gossips would have us believe. No doubt the story about his inability to pay their wages proved false. Else the man would have taken the ten pounds I offered for the information.”

  “You tried to bribe his butler?”

  Despite being an intelligent man, he had obviously not thought the matter through.

  The earl shrugged. “Not bribe, more offer an incentive to loosen his tongue.”

  “Servants have principles, too, my lord.”

  “So it would seem,” he replied with some frustration.

  Nicole sighed. As the hours passed, the need to find Rose was like a weight pressing down on them. “Perhaps I should speak to the butler.”

  “Did we not just agree that the man is loyal to his master?”

  “We did. But when in battle it is always best to focus on the enemy’s weakness.” Six months spent imprisoned in Morton Manor had taught her that.

  “Which is?” the earl answered arrogantly.

  “His loyalty to his master.” Nicole shuffled to the end of the seat and opened the door. “I shall be but a moment.”

  “Allow me to lower the steps for you.”

  Oh, he would gloat for the rest of the day if the butler failed to provide the information they required. Still, a tingling awareness coursed through her as he closed the gap between them. Despite their disagreements, she liked him. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to him in some inexplicable way.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Nicole descended the steps and hurried up to the door. The butler answered almost immediately. “Good day to you.”

  “Good day, madam.” The butler, a man as tall and thin as a coat stand, inclined his head. He looked beyond her shoulder to the carriage. “As I have already told his lordship, Lord Cunningham is not at home.”

  Nicole put her hand to her heart and sucked in a breath. “But this is dreadful. We hope to speak to him before he does something foolish. Perhaps you could give Lord Cunningham a message. It is the only hope we have of saving him.”

  “Something foolish?” The butler frowned, and his grey bushy brows overhung his lids. For a man skilled in the art of indifference, hi
s expression proved promising. “To what do you refer, madam?”

  “It would not be wise for anyone to overhear our conversation.” Nicole glanced left and right and stepped forward. “Not when your master’s reputation is at stake.”

  “His … his reputation?” The butler’s calm composure faltered.

  “It is imperative we speak to Lord Cunningham before the card game. The earl has discovered that one player is a skilled card sharp, determined to rob the nobility of a fortune, and has consequently declined to take his seat at the table.” Nicole touched the servant’s arm. “You must warn your master as soon as you can for I fear he will lose everything.”

  The butler’s wrinkled face turned ashen. “Lose everything,” he repeated to himself.

  “I must go.” Nicole stepped back. “We will do our utmost to find him before the game. Indeed, when your master returns, advise him to call on the Earl of Stanton posthaste. Good day to you.”

  “Wait.” The butler raised his hand. “His lordship is not due back until the early hours.”

  Nicole covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. “Then you must get word to him. Tell him to seek the Earl of Stanton.”

  “I know nothing of his lordship’s diary today, but he took a change of clothes and is to attend Lady Chatwell’s ball this evening.”

  “And he made no mention of where he would be this afternoon?” Nicole desperately wanted to ask if a golden-haired beauty had called. Were the change of clothes deemed suitable attire for a wedding? “Did he have an unexpected appointment?”

  Or had a letter arrived forcing him to leave at short notice? A note with details of a secret rendezvous.

  “He mentioned an urgent meeting. Something that required the utmost discretion.”

  It took all the strength she possessed not to grab the butler by the lapels of his blue velvet coat and shake more information from him. Had the lord hidden Rose away somewhere while he’d gone to seek a special licence?

  “Then let us pray we reach your master before disaster strikes. Good day.” Nicole left the servant trembling on the doorstep and returned to the comfort of the earl’s carriage.

  “Well?” he asked not bothering to hide his impatience. “What did he tell you?”

  The carriage lurched forward, and Nicole gripped the edges of the gold brocade seat.

  “Lord Cunningham will be at Lady Chatwell’s ball this evening,” she said with a triumphant grin, “though I have no notion where he is now. He left suddenly for an urgent meeting.”

  The earl’s mouth fell open. “How on earth did you get him to tell you that? The fellow’s lips were drawn so tight I thought the maid had sewn them shut.”

  “It was merely a matter of playing to the butler’s weakness.” Her tactics were the same as those used on Baxter. “You suspect Lord Cunningham has a gambling habit. I can confirm that is the case.” The butler’s quivering lip and pallid countenance, at the mere mention of a card game, were a testament to that.

  The earl shook his head. “And you expect me to let Rose marry such a man?”

  “Only if Rose deems him worth the sacrifice. Only if she truly loves him.” Love was not always perfect. Nicole knew that.

  The earl thrust his hand through his dark hair. “Regardless of what you may believe, true love is not enough to conquer all. Particularly when that love is one-sided. Especially when one’s fondness for money outweighs anything else.”

  In part, Nicole had to agree. Rowena shared Jeremy’s passion for finery. When the coffers were full, they were affectionate, flirtatious, appeared like any other couple deeply in love. But when the cards fell badly the laughter dissipated, replaced with the sound of crashing plates, slamming doors and a tirade of criticism and abuse.

  “I admit one’s attitude to money is a true indication of one’s feelings. I would live in a cottage with a leaking roof, eat nothing but pottage and wear the same threadbare dress for a year if it meant living with a man I loved.”

  The earl grimaced. “And have you had these fanciful conversations with Rose during your stay at Morton Manor?”

  “Many times.” They had shared their dreams and aspirations. It soon became apparent that they thought the same, had shared the same experiences. Both had been betrayed by their closest family member, by the person charged to protect them. Both agreed never to let bitterness taint their hearts. “What else were we to do when locked in our room for hours each day?”

  With a sudden surge of anger, he gritted his teeth. “My father has a lot to answer for. I’m sure he would find the whole situation rather amusing.”

  “How could he?” The old earl had done everything in his power to prevent Rose from marrying Lord Cunningham. In that regard, he had failed miserably. “Even after six months of incarceration, Rose may still get to marry the man she loves.”

  The earl let out a weary groan and dragged his hand down his face. A lock of ebony hair hung over his brow, and her fingers burned to brush it back.

  “Were we discussing any other gentleman, I might feel a sliver of optimism.”

  While Nicole desperately wanted to trust Rose’s judgement, the conversation with the butler had roused a nagging doubt. Though she would never admit that to the earl.

  Had Rose been duped by a scoundrel?

  “But I was speaking of myself, not my sister,” he continued. “The thought of me tearing about Town, feeling utterly helpless, would have pleased my father no end. He was determined to have the upper hand. Determined to win the game at all costs.”

  “The game is still in play, my lord.” Indeed, Nicole would do everything in her power to ensure that Rose held the winning hand. “It is not over until the last card is revealed.”

  A smile touched his lips. “Is that your way of telling me to pull myself together?”

  “Well, we need some sort of plan.”

  “You’re right.” His tone carried a hint of admiration.

  “I see little point scouring the streets in the hope of spotting Lord Cunningham. Perhaps we could call at your solicitor’s office while we decide what to do?”

  A part of her was eager to bring the business of Morton Manor to a swift conclusion. In all likelihood, there had been a mistake, and she would have no choice but to travel north before Jeremy caught up with her. A part of her wanted to delay, wanted to let the dream of owning a home of her own live a little longer in her heart.

  “We shall call at the office first thing in the morning. Mr Jameson is away, and so we must meet with his colleague, Mr Wild, to determine your course of action.” The earl’s piercing blue eyes travelled the length of her shabby dress, visible beneath the opening of her travelling cloak. “In the meantime, we will return to Stanton House and find you something more suitable to wear.”

  Nicole brushed the green muslin skirt. The faded material was worn in places but would suffice for a visit to the solicitor. “I doubt Mr Wild will care what I’m wearing.”

  “No, I doubt he would. But I fear Lady Chatwell may take umbrage at your lack of effort this evening. The mistress of an earl must dress accordingly whilst out in society.”

  This evening? A hard lump formed in Nicole’s throat.

  “You expect me to attend Lady Chatwell’s ball?” She clenched her clammy hands tight as her heart slammed against her ribs. Jeremy had refused to pay for her come out. She would be out of her depth, swimming against the tide, drowning in her own inadequacy.

  “How else are we to question Cunningham? If he plans to elope with Rose, he will avoid me for fear I might call him out.”

  Why would a man attend social engagements if he was planning to elope?

  “But I cannot go to a ball.” Nicole put her hand to the base of her throat. While Jeremy was unlikely to attend, Lord Mosgrove never missed an opportunity to strut about in public like a peacock. A frisson of fear shot through her at the thought of the lecherous oaf spotting her amongst the crowd. “As you well know, I have nothing suitable to wear.”
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  “Rose has an armoire full of beautiful gowns. You may wear one of those.”

  While she could excuse the earl’s ignorance for ladies fashions, surely he’d dallied with enough women to know they came in all shapes and sizes. “It may have escaped your notice, but Rose is slender. Whereas I am more … more …”

  “Voluptuous?” he said as a sinful smile graced his lips. “No, I am more than aware of the differences between you, Miss Flint. But a mistress flaunts her figure. She does not hide it beneath a mound of material.”

  “Oh, I see.” Heat rose to her cheeks. She had no intention of squashing into a gown that was far too small to be decent. And even if she found something suitable, being seen on the earl’s arm would bring her nothing but trouble. “As you’ll not find Rose at Lady Chatwell’s ball, you have no need of my assistance. I shall wait in the carriage, for it would make more sense for us to follow the lord once he leaves. At a ball, we are liable to lose him in the crush.”

  He sat back and rubbed his chin. “Most women of your status would like nothing more than an opportunity to mingle amongst the ladies of society.”

  “Most women of my status do not want people to think they're warming an earl's bed for money.”

  “So you would never agree to be a man’s mistress?”

  “Never.”

  “Did you not agree to be mine?”

  He was teasing her again.

  “I agreed to act the part should anyone see us out together.”

  The earl moistened his lips as his hungry gaze caressed her body. “Then perhaps we should forget about going home. If I keep you out until dawn someone is bound to notice us.”

  A small part of her was tempted to accept the invitation, flattered that he was interested enough to pursue the matter. “You may keep me out until dawn, but I’ll not leave this carriage.”

  He shrugged. “It can get rather hot in here.”