The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“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.”