The Mysterious Miss Flint: Lost Ladies of London: Book 1

by Clee, Adele

  Those vibrant ringlets had caused the girl no end of trouble with their father. The Darbys were dark by hair, dark by nature. Rose was a glittering ray of sunshine.

  Miss Flint squinted in the darkness. “Rose was wearing a navy-blue cloak when she left Morton Manor. I’m sure that is the one. Should I call out to her?”

  “No. If we are wrong, we will have to admit to stalking Lord Cunningham. No doubt it will become an amusing topic of conversation at his club.”

  When the lady reached Cunningham’s front door, she turned and glanced back over her shoulder. A long golden curl fell from beneath the depths of the hood.

  “It is Rose,” Miss Flint said, as the lady opened the door and slipped inside. “Thank heavens she’s arrived safely.”

  The knot in Oliver’s stomach eased.

  They watched and waited for a flicker of candlelight, but the couple preferred to conduct their meeting in the shadows. A figure appeared in the upstairs window. One grey silhouette merged with another, and it took a moment for him to realise it was the shape of two people embracing.

  Rose was safe, although not free from danger. A sudden surge of rage obliterated the initial flash of relief. “Why, the sneaky devil. A man in love would have urged Rose to return to Stanton House, not use the opportunity to conduct an illicit liaison.”

  “It is said that men in love do desperate things,” Miss Flint said in the dreamy voice she used when overcome with sentiment. “That their emotions rule them. Perhaps Lord Cunningham is so besotted with Rose judgement fails him.”

  “Then the gentleman needs a lesson in logic.” Without another word, he grabbed Miss Flint’s hand and marched across the street.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Hammer on the damn door until I take it off its hinges.”

  Chapter Eight

  Due to the late hour, few carriages were travelling along Little Castle Street, which was rather fortunate because the earl charged across the road without the customary glance left and right.

  “Do you think it is wise to use aggressive means to make your point?” Nicole said. They reached the front door, yet he continued to hold her hand. Not that she was complaining. She felt oddly drawn to him after sharing such a passionate kiss. “Does the situation not call for tact and diplomacy?”

  “We are not here to debate international relations,” he mocked. “Cunningham will take Rose to his bed and then she’ll have no choice but to marry him.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  Lord Cunningham could donate all his worldly belongings to the poor, and still, the earl would be suspicious of his motives.

  “Well, I’m pretty certain they’re not setting up the chess board. Why meet Rose at a house no one knows he owns? Why is the house still in utter darkness?”

  Nicole was about to say that they might struggle to find candles, but it sounded rather naive, even to her ears.

  “No doubt he has agreed to let her stay here until he can arrange their trip to Scotland?” she said as that was far more plausible. “Perhaps she is still to learn of your father’s death, and Cunningham wanted a quiet place to break the news.”

  The earl released her hand and jerked his head back. “For a woman who kisses with such enthusiasm, please tell me you don’t believe that nonsense. Equally, with your intelligence, it surprises me that you let fanciful notions cloud your judgement.”

  Had the earl just called her intelligent?

  Mentally, she scooped the compliment up gently in her hand and stored it away in the precious jewelled box, along with the one where he’d said she was beautiful.

  “In situations like these, we have two choices.” Her gaze drifted to his mouth. She could still taste the earthy essence that clung to his skin. The warm feeling his touch evoked lingered beneath the surface. Just being in his company made her a little breathless. “Either we think the best of people or the worst. If I believed everyone had nefarious motives, I’d struggle to rouse the enthusiasm to rise in the morning.”

  “Well, one of us is right. The other, I fear, shall be bitterly disappointed.” He raised his fist and banged on the wooden door so hard the iron knocker rattled against the plate.

  But the effort was met with a deafening silence.

  “Perhaps you failed to knock loud enough,” Nicole said. “Perhaps Lord Cunningham thought it was thunder, or a team of horses pounding the road.”

  “Thunder?” The earl slammed the knocker while kicking the bottom of the door with his shoe. “He’ll feel the thunder of my foot up his backside if he doesn’t open this door soon.”

  Nicole pursed her lips. People said the most ridiculous things when they were angry.

  The sound of a sash window scraping against the frame was followed by a male voice calling, “Who’s there?”

  The earl took a few steps back and looked up to the first floor. “I suggest you invite us in, Cunningham. Unless you want your neighbours to hear of your predilection for ruining virgins.”

  “Lord … Lord Stanton? What the hell do you want? Are … are you aware of the time?”

  “Of course. It’s time you came downstairs and opened the bloody door.” The noise of grinding teeth made Nicole wince. “I’ll not tell you again.” The earl’s blue eyes were a cold, steely grey.

  “Come back tomo—”

  “You’ve got until the count of five else I’ll find a way inside.” The earl marched up to the door. “One!” He’d reached the count of four before the pad of footsteps echoed in the hall beyond. “Five,” the earl shouted as soon as Cunningham appeared.

  Despite attempting to hide his body behind the door, it was evident from Cunningham’s loose shirt and missing cravat that he planned to do more than offer Rose a safe place to rest her tired bones. A golden lock of hair hung rakishly over his brow. The potent scent of exotic perfume hung in the air between them.

  The earl was right.

  Seduction was Cunningham’s objective for meeting Rose at the house.

  A low growl rumbled in the earl’s throat. A volatile energy sparked like a firework ready to explode. At any second, Lord Stanton was liable to grasp Cunningham by the neck and squeeze until his eyes popped from their sockets.

  There was only one way to defuse the situation. Rose needed her now more than ever.

  Before doubt crept in, Nicole darted forward. She ducked under Lord Cunningham’s arm, braced against the doorframe to prevent anyone from entering, and raced towards the stairs.

  “Rose! Rose!” Nicole called out, eager to be reunited with her friend. Eager to confirm that the earl was wrong and there was nothing licentious about the encounter.

  “Bloody hell,” Cunningham shouted. “Who the hell are you? I did not invite you in.”

  “Move out of my way, Cunningham,” the earl snapped. “Else you’ll have to beg your creditors for an extension so you can pay for new teeth.”

  Nicole reached the top of the stairs, aware that the earl and Lord Cunningham were racing behind in pursuit. She opened the door to the first bedchamber but then remembered they’d seen Cunningham embracing Rose in the front window.

  “Rose,” Nicole called out again as she moved further along the landing.

  “Don’t go in there!” Cunningham yelled, but the earl pushed him into the wall, barged past and mounted the last few stairs.

  Nicole entered the room first, knowing she may have to prevent the earl from entering should she find Rose in a state of dishabille.

  Though the rest of the house lay in darkness, a faint glow from the street lamp outside made it possible to see more clearly. At first glance, the figure in the corner, shrouded in a white sheet, could well have been a ghost. Numerous times whilst at Morton Manor, Nicole had glimpsed the outline of a lady in white walking through the corridors at night.

  “Rose. There is no need for alarm.”

  The lady’s golden tresses hung loosely about her shoulders. Despite Nicole’s friendly reassurance, she kept her head
bowed.

  “Look at me, Rose.”

  The earl burst in through the door. He took one look at the lady standing in the corner, turned on his heels, grabbed Lord Cunningham by the shirt and lifted him clean off the floor.

  “If you have laid a finger on my sister, I shall string you up from the nearest tree and leave you dangling.” The earl shook him, giving the lord a healthy dose of what he could expect.

  Lord Cunningham kicked his legs, desperate to find a solid surface to place his feet. “That … that is not your sister.” Cunningham’s strangled words were barely audible. “I … I haven’t set eyes on Rose for … for nigh on six months.”

  The earl released his grip on Cunningham’s shirt, and the fellow sagged to a heap on the floor.

  “Rose left … left London without a word,” the lord continued as he scrambled to his feet and straightened his shirt. He put his fist to his mouth and coughed. “I took her absence as a sign of indifference. Indeed, your father made it clear she had made a mistake and desired never to lay eyes on me again.”

  The earl frowned. “Then who in God’s name is that?” He stabbed a finger at the lady in the corner, standing as still as a marble statue found in a museum foyer. Perhaps she hoped they would peruse her semi-naked form and move quickly on.

  “Does it matter?” Cunningham stuck his nose in the air in an attempt to appear affronted. Yet with his blemish-free complexion and weak chin he looked more like a spoilt child.

  Was this the gentleman Rose dreamed of marrying? Surely not? It made no sense. He seemed so feeble, so weak and insipid. They were not at all suited.

  “Of course it bloody matters,” the earl replied, his tone hard and unyielding.

  Pride filled Nicole’s chest. Oliver Darby was a fine specimen of a man — strong, fearless, capable of protecting those in his care. Indeed, Lord Cunningham appeared pathetic in comparison.

  “I do not see why it is any of your concern, Stanton.”

  “You planned to elope with my sister and yet I find you cavorting in the dark with some other lady.”

  A sharp feminine gasp cut through the air.

  “You’re eloping with Lady Rose Darby!” The statue in the corner jerked her head up in surprise. “When exactly were you planning to tell me?”

  Cunningham shook his small oval-shaped head, made to house an equally small brain. “I am not eloping with Lady Rose. You heard what I said. I’ve not set eyes on the chit for months.”

  “But evidently you made plans to marry the girl,” the lady wrapped the sheet tightly around her shoulders.

  “Yes, yes, but that was long before our little arrangement.”

  “Little arrangement?” the lady sneered. “Is that what you think this is?”

  Cunningham opened his mouth but snapped it shut.

  “Then where were you today?” Nicole asked. What need had he to be so secretive with his own staff? “Your butler assured me you had an urgent meeting. Were you planning to elope with Rose?”

  “For all the saints.” Cunningham dragged his hand down his face. “Good God, woman. Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”

  “Speak to her in that tone again, and I’ll put you through the blasted window.”

  Cunningham held his hands up in surrender. “I … I went to Whitechapel to pay a debt. The fellow threatened to throw me in the Thames if I was a day late with the repayments.”

  “You’re in debt to a man in Whitechapel?” the figure in the sheet said, her tone brimming with disdain.

  The earl’s gaze lingered on the beauty in the corner. Jealousy stabbed the point of its sharp blade in Nicole’s chest.

  “Ah, Lady Monroe. Forgive me for not recognising you earlier. But then did we not witness you enter Lady Chatwell’s ball a mere hour ago? Indeed, I believe your husband is still there, blissfully unaware of your departure.”

  The lady’s cheeks turned berry red. Fear flashed in her eyes. “You won’t tell him, my lord. Promise me you won’t. Edward is not a very forgiving man.”

  Shouldn’t the lady have thought about that before racing to meet her lover?

  “Stanton won’t tell him,” Cunningham blurted. “Else he would have to explain what he was doing here, and I doubt he wants to cast aspersions on Lady Rose’s unblemished character. It would ruin any chance she has of making a decent match.”

  The earl sneered. “Don’t dare mention my sister’s name again. The only thing preventing me from knocking you clean off your feet is that there are ladies present.”

  Cunningham turned his attention to Nicole. His beady eyes scanned her from head to toe, lingering on the stained hem of her dress. “I must confess I'm shocked,” Cunningham said with an air of confidence. “You strike me as a man who would lavish his mistress with gifts, not force her to parade about Town wearing a pile of old rags.”

  The punch was hard and quick, flying through the air with precision to land on Cunningham’s jaw. He hit the boards with a thud.

  “The lady is not my mistress,” the earl cried, much to Nicole’s surprise. “And you will do well to address my cousin with more respect.”

  Cousin?

  Nicole did not know whether to be pleased or offended. Was she not sophisticated enough to be considered his mistress? Had her lack of experience when it came to kissing convinced him they were incompatible?

  Lady Monroe sucked in a breath as Cunningham looked up from the floor somewhat dazed, but due to her state of undress had no choice but to remain in the corner.

  “Rose is due to return to Town,” the earl said. “Foolishly, I suspected she’d come home early to meet you. Should she arrive at your door unannounced, I suggest you send her back to Stanton House. Is that clear?”

  Cunningham frowned. “Why would she seek me out when she never wants to see me again?”

  The earl paused. He could hardly tell the truth and so remained silent for far too long.

  “Rose may feel it necessary to explain why she left,” Nicole said as panic flared. “She may well have had a change of heart.” If Rose confessed all to Lord Cunningham before she learnt of his dalliance with Lady Monroe, it would leave her in a vulnerable position. She glanced at the silent lady in the corner. “Rose may be surprised at how quickly you have moved on.” Bitterness infused her tone.

  True love was supposed to last a lifetime.

  “How quickly I’ve moved on?” Lord Cunningham scoffed. “The chit doesn’t want me. What was I supposed to do, join a monastery?”

  Nicole raised her chin. “You were supposed to fight for her. You were supposed to do everything in your power to win back her favour. That's what love is, my lord.” Nicole glanced at the earl and the corners of his lips curled into a smile.

  “When I declared my love, Rose left me.”

  “You told Lady Rose you loved her?” Lady Monroe edged closer. “But you said you loved me, Rupert.”

  “And … and I do, my dear,” Cunningham mumbled though he struggled to hold the lady’s gaze. “I do. You must believe me.”

  Nicole could warm her hands on the heat radiating from the disloyal lord’s face. What on earth did Rose see in such a pathetic excuse for a man?

  “We should go,” the earl said abruptly. “Any more of his sentimental drivel and I’m liable to cast up my accounts.”

  “We shall leave you to your business,” Nicole said. An image of Rose’s innocent face flashed into her mind. She strode up to Lord Cunningham, her hand itching to slap him. “I would wish you a good evening, but I sincerely hope it is downright miserable.” With a huff of contempt, she marched out onto the landing.

  The earl followed her but paused at the bedchamber door. “Should I hear one derogatory remark about Rose I shall know where to come. I’m certain you wouldn’t want your creditors to learn that you own this house, too. Lord Monroe is an influential man. It would not take a great effort for him to buy up all your vowels and call them in.”

  Cunningham gasped.

  “I shall leav
e you to ponder that thought,” the earl said before following Nicole down the stairs.

  At the front door, she turned to him. “What are we to do now?”

  “We’ll monitor Cunningham’s movements over the next few days. I still don’t trust him.” He shook his head and sighed. “Tonight, we’ll take the road to Morton Manor in the hope of spotting Rose. Just for ten miles. Just to ease my mind.”

  Nicole resisted the urge to put a calming hand on his chest. She understood his need to search for his sister. To do nothing made the hours drag. Rose would find her way home, eventually. She was intelligent and not without courage.

  “You can come with me,” he continued, “or Jackson will take you back to Stanton House and you can wait for me there.”

  It took less than a second for her to decide. “I’ll come with you.” After all, they were in this mess together. It was only right they shared the burden.

  A weak smile touched his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Without another word, they hurried out into the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson was waiting for them on Margaret Street. They travelled the road to Morton Manor, faces pressed against the window, eyes scouring every black shadow moving in the darkness. They barely spoke. The earl muttered one word. A sign of appreciation for the full moon casting its silvery sheen over the landscape to enhance visibility.

  Still, they saw nothing.

  It made no sense.

  If Rose was not with Lord Cunningham, then where in heaven’s name was she?

  Nicole tried to swallow down her anxiety, but the guilt almost choked her. The weary sigh that left her lips did nothing to allay her fears. In her mind, she replayed the events of their last night at Morton Manor. Rose had been a willing participant, eager to take control of her future. Eager to escape her shackles. She was not as fragile as others believed. Or was she? Surely she could cover twenty miles without coming to any harm.