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

by Clee, Adele

  “Speak to her like that again, and you’ll spend the next few minutes scouring the floor for your teeth.”

  The grin that suddenly filled Mrs Asprey’s face stretched from ear to ear. “Well, it seems we have no need to worry, Mr Asprey. This marriage will be a love match, that’s for sure.”

  What nonsense was the woman spouting now?

  “In a few months, I may marry whom I please,” Nicole countered.

  The vision of her walking from St George’s holding onto another man’s arm sent a tremor rippling through his body. The ice-cold shudder started at the tips of his fingers and finished at the end of his toes.

  “Do you honestly think anyone else will marry you now?” Mrs Asprey said. “It will break my heart to tell my friends of our family’s shame.”

  The veiled threat was supposed to intimidate.

  It occurred to him that the Aspreys wanted more than the delight of seeing their sister married. As a man who needed funds, and was willing to sell Nicole to Lord Mosgrove for the sum of five thousand pounds, money was surely the motive for his visit. Mosgrove must have mentioned their conversation at the theatre. He must have told the Aspreys that their sister was betrothed to the Earl of Stanton. The only reason they had for not mentioning the fact, and insisting that he had ruined Nicole’s reputation, was to extort money.

  “Other than a guaranteed marriage proposal, what else did my father promise you?” There must have been a financial reward.

  Asprey dug deep into the inside pocket of his coat, removed a folded note and handed it to Oliver. “The price reflects the distress we’ve suffered upon learning of our poor sister’s fate.”

  “I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” Nicole cried. “We are not marrying, and I am not leaving this house with you. Talk to your friends, tell them of the disgrace I have brought upon you. But leave me the hell alone.” She exhaled loudly. “Now, I shall return to my room.”

  Oliver raised his hand to calm her. “Wait, Miss Asprey. Grant me a few more minutes of your time, and we will bring this matter to a speedy conclusion.”

  Nicole stared at him, pursed her lips and then inclined her head.

  Oliver peeled back the folds and read the short missive. It was his father’s signature scrawled at the bottom. Then again, perhaps Asprey knew Mr Wild and Mr Burrows. The amount settled on her family upon marriage was certainly more substantial than the sum Lord Mosgrove had offered.

  He handed the note to Nicole.

  Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the words. “Ten thousand pounds? Is that the going price for a girl of good breeding?”

  Rowena adjusted her turban. “It is the price to atone for the humiliation caused to your family.”

  “And what price may I deduct for the years of abuse?”

  The thought that Nicole had suffered at the hands of this sorry pair was almost Oliver’s undoing.

  “Allow me to give my perspective on the situation,” he said having made up his mind. “If it were up to me you’d not see a penny. I do not give in to demands, do not bow down to blackmail. And yet I would pay a hefty sum if I thought it would make Miss Asprey happy. To know she is no longer beholden to you, Mr Asprey, would please me no end.”

  Mrs Asprey’s expression brightened, and she rubbed her hands together. “You won’t regret your decision, my lord. And I can assure you there’ll never be a dull moment with Nicole around.”

  “Indeed.”

  But Nicole sought independence, not to break free from one man and shackle herself to another. The lady was not an object for sale or barter.

  “After some deliberation, I find I cannot, and will not, pay you ten thousand pounds.” Oliver took great pleasure in watching their ugly grins fade.

  Mrs Asprey’s face blanched. She gulped. “What do you mean?”

  Oliver ignored the comment and Mr Asprey’s horrified expression and turned to Nicole. “Miss Asprey, I wish to make you a gift of ten thousand pounds. You may do with it what you wish. I impose no conditions.” He jerked his head towards her wastrel of a brother. “You can pay your family so that they may never darken your door again. Or you can keep the money, on the understanding that they will not remove you from this house while I am still breathing.”

  Nicole stared at him, open-mouthed. “I … I can’t possibly accept such a gift.”

  “It is not open to negotiation. As a gift, you must accept it in the manner in which it is given.”

  Tears appeared in her eyes. “I’m lost for words.”

  “That was not the agreement,” Mr Asprey countered.

  “Then sue me.” Oliver would love nothing more than seeing this pair rotting in debtors’ prison. “I am certain the gossips would love to hear that you sold your sister to pay your creditors.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Miss Asprey, what do you want to do?”

  “Remember your family,” her sister-in-law blurted, drawing a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbing her eye. “Remember those who’ve fed you and cared for you and provided for your every need.”

  They were desperate. It wouldn’t surprise him to learn that her brother had spent Lord Mosgrove’s five thousand pounds and needed the funds to repay him.

  “I shall remember my family,” Nicole said. “I shall remember that they beat me when I opposed their plans.”

  A growl of a curse left Oliver’s lips.

  “Wait!” Mr Asprey stepped forward. “Your treatment of my sister will reflect badly on your kin. You know how cruel the gossips can be.”

  A black mist descended. “Do not dare threaten me. Your petty effort to intimidate will not work here.”

  Nicole cleared her throat and straightened. “I have made up my mind. I have decided to keep the money.”

  “Excellent.” Oliver didn’t bother to ring the bell. “Bradbury! Bradbury!”

  Bradbury hurried in as though his pants were on fire. “My lord?”

  “The Aspreys are leaving. Be so kind as to escort them to the door.”

  “Have you no honour?” Mr Asprey waved his gloves. “Is it not your duty to abide by your father’s wishes?”

  “It is my honour, and my respect for Miss Asprey, that prevents me from dragging you by the scruff of your coat and throwing you into the gutter. That is, after all, where you belong.” Jeremy Asprey preyed on the weak. “Spread your gossip. Do your worst. But do not underestimate the power I yield amongst those in society.”

  The man took a step towards his sister. “Nicole. Please. Grant us the funds the earl promised, and we shall never trouble you again.”

  Nicole’s eyes glazed over as she stared at the pattern on the rug. She had a kind and forgiving heart. After everything her brother had done, he could see that her conscience was at war with logic. But Asprey was a man riddled with greed. Once he'd spent the funds, he’d be crawling back for more.

  “I wish I could say I’m sorry, Jeremy.” With a look of determination, Nicole met her brother’s gaze.

  A warm feeling flooded Oliver’s chest. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was something else.

  “I wish things had been different,” Nicole continued. “But I must think of my future. I am not responsible for your failings.”

  “You … you can’t do this, you spiteful wretch,” Mrs Asprey spat, hitting her sides with clenched fists.

  “It is for the best,” Nicole said. Her lip trembled and she was trying not to falter. “Goodbye.”

  Bradbury called two footmen, and together they ushered the Aspreys from the room. Their moans and grumbles echoed in the hall.

  “You’ve not heard the last of this,” Mr Asprey yelled.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The front door slammed with a thud. Nicole stood in stupefied silence, struggling to make sense of what had just occurred. She stole a peek at Oliver. What would she say? Where would she start?

  Bradbury appeared at the door. “The matter is taken care of, my lord.”

  “The Aspreys are not to be permitted entrance again, n
o matter what the circumstances.” Though his tone was calm, she knew his control was hanging by a thread. “Is that clear, Bradbury?”

  “Perfectly, my lord.”

  The butler retreated.

  A tense silence ensued.

  Taking a deep breath, Nicole mustered the courage to speak first. “Allow me to express my sincere apology for the way my family behaved.” She tried to meet his gaze. “With Rose still missing, you have enough to deal with. The last thing you needed was to hear Jeremy’s complaints.”

  Oliver watched her intently but said nothing.

  “And about the Miss Flint thing.” She’d not meant to make her deception sound trivial. “It was wrong to keep the truth from you.” A hard lump formed in her throat. Pressure built at the bridge of her nose and she was in danger of crying. “You’ve been so kind.” So loving and affectionate, too, she added silently. “I cannot leave here knowing you think ill of me.”

  Oliver opened his arms, and she ran into his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry for whatever terrible thing has happened to Rose. Sorry for not trusting you enough to tell you about Jeremy.”

  He stroked her hair and held her close. “There is no need to apologise. Yes, it came as somewhat of a shock, but I’ve always been curious about your background. You’ve always possessed an air of mystery.”

  Nicole pressed her cheek to his chest and inhaled the unique scent that soothed her fears. “Changing my name was the only way to prevent Jeremy from finding me. Or so I thought.”

  “And yet he knew where you were all along.”

  Oh, she thought she’d been so clever. For once, she’d had the upper hand. And all the time, Jeremy had been laughing at her. Plotting. Scheming. Waiting. What a naive fool she’d been.

  And yet she was not sorry for taking the position. How could she be when her knight had come and rescued her? Oliver had shown her how to embrace passion, shown her how to love.

  Nicole's heart ached at the thought of leaving him, but leave him she must.

  “I shall return to the manor posthaste.” The tremble in her voice reflected the surge of emotion building in her chest. To be alone again, unguarded, unprotected, would be a challenge.

  “Do you honestly believe you’ve any hope of finding Rose there? Stay here. Stay here with me.”

  Oh, how she wanted to. But over time passion withered and died. Lust was like the sweet scent of a rose, intense, alluring, quickly dispersed by the changing wind. Oliver Darby did not believe love existed. And so, what hope was there for them?

  Time apart was needed.

  “When I left the manor, my main aim was finding Rose.” She looked up at him. “How can I rest? How can I think of anything else when Rose is still out there?”

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Every fibre of my being tells me Rose is safe and well.” A weary sigh left his lips. “But you’re right. How can we make any decisions for the future when our hearts and minds are distracted?”

  Did they even have a future?

  She could not be his mistress. And he had no ambition to take a wife.

  Nicole stepped back, out of his embrace. To wait, to linger would only prolong the agony. She would leave now. Before her weak heart faltered. Before Jeremy sought revenge.

  “Then it’s settled. I shall go to Morton Manor and continue the search for Rose.”

  He swallowed deeply and dragged his hand down his face. “And I shall keep watch on Lord Cunningham. Shall we agree that you’ll return in a few days, and we can update each other on recent events?”

  A few days would be enough time for his desire to fade.

  Nicole nodded. “If you’re in agreement, I shall keep Peters at the manor to assist in the search. Should there be any news, I shall send word at once.” She was still clutching Jeremy’s note. “Here, perhaps you should burn this,” she said taking his hand and thrusting the letter into his palm. “Watch it go up in smoke and put paid to your father’s cunning plan.”

  He scrunched the paper in his fist and threw it into the cold grate. “I’ll not light the fire in here until you return. We shall watch it burn together. As a tribute to all those who seek to meddle in other people’s affairs.”

  And what if she didn’t return?

  “That certainly sounds like a plan,” she said forcing a smile. “Well, I have very little to pack, but must beg one more favour.”

  He stepped closer. “Ask for anything, and it shall be yours.”

  Anything?

  The only thing she wanted was for him to love her in return.

  “Could I beg use of the carriage? I would rather not linger on the street waiting for the mail coach.”

  “Of course. Jackson will remain at the manor for a few days,” he agreed. “Purely as a precaution. During your search, you may have use of his services, and I miss being in the saddle.” He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Is there anything else you require before you leave? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Nicole swallowed. His hand was hot, his lips warm and wet. Her insides melted at his touch, at the sound of his rich voice. She conjured an image of him pressing her down into the plush mattress, of him rising above, thrusting deep and claiming her as his own.

  Good Lord.

  The overwhelming urge to join with him took hold. Every pleasurable emotion possible swelled in her chest: longing — lust — love.

  What harm could it do to indulge her desires?

  She was in love with him.

  “There is one more thing,” she whispered in a sensual tone. “Show me one more time how deep this attraction is between us.”

  He raised a sinful brow. “By deep, I assume I have understood your meaning.”

  “Did you not say love is like opium?”

  “I believe I did, although after careful consideration—”

  “Then I am in need of a healthy dose.”

  His breath came quickly as he captured her mouth in a kiss that was wild and hungry.

  “Lock the door, Oliver.” Her body thrummed with anticipation. To touch his smooth, bronzed skin — to feel him move inside her — was exactly what she needed.

  He scanned the room with a look of surprise. “You wish to remain here?”

  Everything about the masculine space reminded her of him. His musky scent hung in the air, earthy and enticing. Even the sight of mundane objects: a letter opener, a leather journal, a desk globe, seemed to radiate his unique essence. This was the room where he’d taken her in his arms, the only time she’d ever been asked to dance. And she would do everything in her power to banish the memory of Jeremy’s interference from this special place.

  Employing the wiles of a seasoned courtesan, she perched on the edge of his desk. “Why not?”

  She wanted him to remember her. When busy writing in his ledger, he’d be forced to put down his quill as he recalled the image of thrusting deep into her body as she lay back on the wooden surface.

  “Why not, indeed?” With his mouth curled up into a wide grin, he locked the door and came to stand between her legs.

  One swipe of his hand and the papers cluttering the desk landed on the floor. Large hands settled on her waist. He picked her up and pushed her back a little until her legs dangled over the edge.

  “Have I told you I find your masterful approach rather appealing?” she said as the heavy thrum of desire beat its potent rhythm deep in her core.

  His hand drifted up under her skirt, skimmed her stocking and bare thigh. “By masterful, I assume you mean skilled.” Warm fingers brushed against her most sensitive spot.

  Nicole sucked in a breath as he stroked back and forth. “You certainly know how to rouse a lady’s desire.” Like a wanton wench, she rocked her hips against his hand.

  He leant forward and kissed her throat. “And what if I want to rouse your love?”

  His hand stilled for a moment as did his lips. The atmosphere in the room shifted. The en
ergy surrounding them pulsed like a racing heartbeat, waiting for the answer, too. But then he cleared his throat as if the words were merely an inconvenient obstruction.

  Well, she would not let him escape so easily.

  “To rouse my love, you would need to defend my honour when jealous women throw their insults.”

  The urge to please him took hold. Nervous fingers fluttered to the fall of his breeches and brushed lightly against the thick shaft already eager to join with her.

  A mumbled curse of appreciation left his lips.

  “To rouse my love,” she said undoing the buttons, “you would need to burst into a theatre box and rescue me from the clutches of a self-obsessed prig.”

  “Bloody hell!” he whispered as her fingers settled around the hard length of him.

  Every part of her body tingled. To know she had the ability to affect him was liberating.

  She found the courage to slide her hand up and down his solid member. His skin was as smooth as silk, and he moved his hips to push through her hand.

  “To rouse my love, you would need …” She was forced to stop as one long finger slid up into her sheath. “You would need to … to make me feel as though I’m the most important person in the world.”

  She couldn’t talk anymore. Her mind was lost in a hazy cloud. The moist sound as his fingers teased her to distraction worked to obliterate all her inhibitions.

  Desperate to take him inside her, she pumped his manhood hard and quick.

  “Slow down, love.”

  “I want you now, Oliver.” It was the truest thing she’d ever said. “I need you. I cannot wait.”

  A guttural grown left his lips.

  In a sudden frenzy of activity, he’d hiked her skirt up to her waist, dropped his breeches to his ankles and pushed inside.

  “Oh, God, … you feel so good.” He grabbed her buttocks and thrust long and deep. “Tell me what you want, Nicole.”

  She was already spiralling, already lost in a heady wave of passion. “I … I …” She could hardly form a coherent word. “Claim me, Oliver. Fill me full. Make me yours.”

  Good Lord. Her voice was thick with lust.