The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

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.

With wide eyes, they watched the road for another hour, but to no avail.

The atmosphere in the carriage was just as bleak on the return journey.