The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

But Rose was still missing. And the weight of the burden hung like a thick iron chain around her neck.

The carriage rattled to a stop on Howland Street, and they knocked at number twenty. A maid answered. Fine beads of perspiration littered the young woman’s brow. It took a moment for her to catch her breath. Upon learning that a peer hovered on the doorstep, she immediately invited them in and rushed to find her mistress.

Mrs Wild came to greet them. She tried to appear pleased, but her grim lips betrayed her inner thoughts.

“My lord. What a pleasure it is to welcome you into our humble home. I only wish it were under less harrowing circumstances.” The woman sucked in a breath in an effort to suppress the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Nicole’s heart raced. The solicitor became ill over an hour ago. Surely, he’d not left to meet his maker?

“I trust Mr Wild is still with us?” the earl asked with some hesitance, evidently thinking the worst, too.

Indeed, it was not an insensitive question. Mrs Wild’s eyes were red beneath the bottom lids. The surrounding air brimmed with a tense energy. The woman clutched her stomach when she spoke as one would when the pain of hunger became too great. However, judging by her round figure, that was not the case.

“Yes, yes. He is resting in his chamber.” Mrs Wild nodded. “But he has never looked so pale.”

“Is it possible to see him? Perhaps we can help.”

The woman glanced back over her shoulder at the bare wall. “I suppose it can’t hurt. Follow me. But you must excuse the slight odour. I’d open the windows, but the stench outside is equally pungent this morning.”

They climbed the stairs to Wild’s bedchamber. Mrs Wild opened the door a fraction and peered around the jamb. From the gut-churning smell, it was evident the solicitor had emptied the entire contents of his bowels and stomach.

“Mr Wild,” she whispered. “Lord Stanton is here to see you.”

A mournful groan resonated in the room beyond. “What? S-send him in.”

Mrs Wild turned to face them. “Are you sure you want to go in there? What if it’s contagious?”

“We shall be fine, Mrs Wild.” Oliver pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Nicole. “I suspect your husband has consumed something that disagrees with him. That is all.”

“As long as you’re sure, my lord.”

“Miss Flint may remain outside if she so wishes,” Oliver said.

He was teasing her, for he knew she had an inquisitive mind and was eager to examine the situation herself. Else why had he given her the handkerchief? She brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent that made her knees tremble.

“Not at all.” Nicole offered the earl a confident smile. “I have a strong constitution, Mrs Wild, and can tolerate most things.” She’d coped with Jeremy’s foul tirades and fiery temper. Had eaten food fit for a dog when Mrs Gripes was in a bad mood.

“I would have expected nothing less,” he said staring at her with those soulful blue eyes.

With slow, light steps they entered the room.

The heavy drapes covered the window. The only light came from the solitary candle burning on the side table near the bed. Mr Wild was lying back against a mound of white pillows. He looked frail without his fancy periwig. His eyes were grey, lacked life and brilliance. His sallow complexion was a clear indication he had lost a lot of fluid. Thankfully, the chamber pot he clutched at his side was empty, though the odd involuntary spasm suggested another expulsion was likely.

“My lord,” Mr Wild croaked as he raised a withered hand. “Come in. I am only—” He paused and coughed into a linen towel. “Forgive me, my … my throat is as dry as the ink on my newspaper.”

“Please.” The earl raised his hand. “We will keep you but a moment and then you must rest.” He gestured to Nicole. “Excuse the hurried introduction, but this lady is Miss Flint.”

“Flint? Ah, the heir to Morton Manor.”

Nicole studied the solicitor’s expression. From his relaxed facial muscles and sleepy gaze, he was not at all surprised by her appearance. Therefore, he could not have met the other Miss Flint this morning.

“Indeed.”

“Well, your business must … must be urgent else you’d not have taken the trouble to come. I … I trust Andrews told you where to find me.”

“He did. But we are here merely out of concern.”

Mr Wild’s eyes brightened, if only momentarily. “Oh.”