The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“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?”