The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“You assume my reputation means nothing to me.”

He appeared somewhat confused. “Forgive me, but I doubt those in society even know who you are. An earl is unlikely to bed a paid companion when there are courtesans aplenty.”

“Unless he’s a rogue,” she countered.

“I can assure you, Miss Flint, my intentions are honourable.”

So why did he look at her as though she was a mouth-watering meal served after a long and arduous journey?

“Would you care to try again, my lord? This time, I require an honest answer if you have any hope of securing my assistance.”

Another chuckle left his lips, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Very well. While my thoughts regarding your pleasing countenance are far from honourable, I am at heart a gentleman. Your virtue is safe with me.”

Nicole gave a satisfied nod. “There is nothing like the truth to quash any misunderstandings.”

“Indeed.”

It was strange how one’s life could change drastically in the space of a day. Had the wicked earl really bequeathed her the manor house? Surely, once they were in London, it would all prove to be a terrible misunderstanding.

But what if her luck had changed?

Heavens, she would never have to worry about Jeremy and Rowena again.

A frisson of fear shot through her at the thought of seeing her brother. What if Jeremy found her? What if he insisted on moving into the manor? Or worse still, used fraudulent means to force her to sell. He would find a way to manipulate things to his advantage.

“I need your answer, Miss Flint.” The earl’s warm tone woke her from her reverie. “Every minute I waste here is another minute Rose is out there alone.”

Nicole considered the earl’s proposition. What did she have to lose? Despite being the grandson of a viscount, Jeremy hardly ever moved about in society. What were the chances their paths would cross? What were the chances of anyone recognising her? Besides, she wanted something from the earl and offering her help was the only way to secure his co-operation.

“Very well. I agree to assist you in your bid to find Rose.” Nicole noted the cut to his cheek, left from the whip of the chatelaine. The earl was strong, courageous, just the person she needed should Jeremy ever cause trouble. “Should it prove necessary, you may say I’m your mistress. However, you must promise me one thing in return.”

“Of course.” The earl inclined his head. “In some things, I am open to negotiation.”

“Should I be granted ownership of Morton Manor, I want the solicitor to draw up a contract that prohibits the sale of the house unless you are in complete agreement.” The earl was far too astute to fall for Jeremy’s lies and deceit. And she would address the matter of unwelcome visitors at a later date.

As expected, the earl looked astounded. “Why would you relinquish your independence and be beholden to me?”

She would not be beholden to him. He had far more pressing matters to address. “Because there is every chance I shall need your protection in the future. Do not ask me to speak of it now. A vow that you will act in my best interests is all I seek.”

He offered a graceful bow. “I pledge my assistance should the need ever arise.”

Nicole smiled. She couldn’t run forever. Perhaps this was her one chance to put a stop to Jeremy’s antics for good.

The sound of raised voices caught their attention. Nicole glanced back over her shoulder to see Mrs Gripes, Baxter and Stokes arguing in the doorway.

“I shall be glad to be away from this place for a while.” A good night’s sleep and a satisfying meal were simple pleasures denied her these last six months.

“Then come, Miss Flint.” The earl offered her his arm. “Let us throw this immoral rabble out on their ear and be on our way.”

Chapter Five

The mystery surrounding the ownership of Morton Manor and fears over his missing sister were not the only things troubling Oliver. The lady sitting opposite him in the carriage, gripping the open window as she scanned the road looking for Rose, was an enigma.

One thing was certain. Miss Flint conveyed a quality of character a paid companion could only ever dream of possessing. From her eloquent speech and turn of phrase, he was certain the lady was a gentleman’s daughter. Yet from the shabby state of her clothes, it was evident the woman had fallen on hard times.

Had the death of her parents left her destitute?

Had a scoundrel ruined all prospects of marriage and left her with no option but to work for a living?