The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“Do you recall what happened when you first took ill?” Nicole said. If the earl suspected treachery, it stood to reason someone wanted Mr Wild out of the way.

“I’d finished my … my morning tea and was about to check the day’s appointments.” Mr Wild thrust his head over the chamber pot and heaved. Three times he retched but failed to rid his body of the irritation.

Nicole stepped forward and used the towel to mop the man’s brow. “The tea you drank, did it taste the same as usual?”

Mr Wild sucked in a breath. “I complained to Andrews, told him the water was stale.”

“And when did you begin to feel ill?”

“I was read-reading the diary, but the words kept dancing about on the page. The pain … in my stomach … forgive me.” He closed his eyes. “I'm so … so tired.”

Nicole touched her fingers to his wrist. His pulse was steady and even. “We should let him sleep. We can call again tomorrow.”

With a grim expression, the earl nodded. They crept out of the room and down the stairs.

Mrs Wild met them in the hall. “Do you think he’ll recover?”

“I would refuse any other visitors until his condition improves.” There was a hint of apprehension in the earl’s tone that was sure to worry Mrs Wild.

Nicole put her hand on the woman’s arm. “He needs rest and must take plenty of fluid. Small sips, but often. Mint tea is said to rid the body of whatever irritant is causing the problem. Some say sucking on the leaves helps.”

Mrs Wild forced a smile and nodded, albeit weakly.

“Miss Flint is knowledgeable in most things,” the earl said offering his support. “Whatever she suggests has merit.”

“Of course, my lord.” Mrs Wild curtsied. “And I thank you both for coming.”

As soon as they took their seats in the carriage, the earl could no longer contain his frustration.

“What the devil is going on?” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are so many complications to this mystery my mind is jumping about like a hungry flea.”

“Then you think someone deliberately poisoned Mr Wild’s tea so he would be out of the office today?”

“Don’t you? It appears he has ingested something that disagrees with him.”

“If you suspect foul play, then the only possible culprit is Andrews.” The clerk didn't seem like a man capable of committing such a heinous crime. “You can tell the character of a man from his eyes. Mr Andrews looks upon the world with wonder. Those with a penchant for evil have a vacant look. Their eyes are nothing but cold glass spheres with the power to hold you in a vice-like grip.”

The earl frowned. “There is something about your comment I find disturbing.”

“Why? Did your father not have a hard, deathly stare?”

“Sometimes. His harsh words stung like a whip, but his eyes often lacked conviction. What disturbs me is that you speak from experience. I saw the flash of fear in your eyes as your mind conjured the image.

”

Nicole sighed. The earl was incredibly perceptive. “One’s memory can make a situation appear far worse than it was in reality.” She was not referring to her own situation. Now was not the time to discuss her brother’s failings. “Any form of injustice rouses anger in one’s chest. Thinking about the awful things that might have happened rouses fear.”

“In my father’s case, the story reads like a Shakespearean tragedy. The man’s flaws and moral weaknesses brought him just as much pain as he inflicted on others. He died on his own, with his family despising him.”

Nicole felt a sliver of pity, for no one wanted to die alone. “And while his part is over, we are still performers in his play.”

“The question is, are the lines already written and how many acts are—” The earl stopped abruptly. “The play, of course.” With a sudden burst of excitement, he thrust forward, captured her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her lips. “That’s it!”

Stunned, Nicole blinked rapidly.

“Devil take me, I knew I had seen that woman before,” he continued, sitting back in the seat. With a wide grin, he perused Nicole’s faded green dress. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Flint, but your plan to hide in this carriage has been scuppered. Indeed, who knows, I may get to call you my mistress after all.”

Nicole struggled to make sense of his ramblings.