The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

Of course, the Earl of Stanton had one of the best boxes in the house. Situated in the middle tier and next to the stage — one's status was reflected in the quality of the view, not the elevated position — they were guaranteed to attract attention.

Once inside the intimate space, the earl closed the door. They settled into padded seats, the velvet as red as the walls and silk drapes framing the view, and waited for the first act to begin.

In the pit below, young men ordered food and drink and frolicked with scantily clad ladies whose gowns made Nicole’s dress appear as modest as a nun’s habit. With their raucous laughter and boisterous antics, one could not help but look upon their uncouth behaviour with disdain.

“Does the prospect of witnessing a Shakespeare play always turn men into a pack of wild dogs?” she said as a dandy with a tiny waist and huge lapels fought with another over what looked to be a meat chop. “Anyone would think they’d not eaten for a week.”

“After consuming copious amounts of brandy the bucks fight over the air they breathe.” He draped his arm languidly over the back of her chair, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “Even a theatre of royal acclaim has its fair share of louts.”

Nicole glanced across at the rows of people opposite. She did not need opera glasses to notice a hundred pairs of eyes staring back at their box.

“And yet while some find their vulgar manner entertaining, it seems we are the main attraction this evening.”

Oliver followed Nicole’s gaze and shrugged. “The gossips need something to talk about in the salons tomorrow. They’re all desperate to identify the Earl of Stanton’s new mistress.”

Nicole shrank back in her seat. The coil holding her nerves at bay wound tighter and tighter until it was about ready to snap. What if one of Jeremy’s friends were amongst the vast throng? Worse still, Lord Mosgrove might be ogling her from afar, and she would never know.

Then it occurred to her that such an event would not be without merit.

“If people believe I’m your mistress, will they assume we have indulged in intimate relations?” If Lord Mosgrove saw them together, then he would have no need to press his suit. She would be considered tarnished goods. Worth nothing but a pittance.

Oliver chuckled. “Why else would a man take a mistress if not to partake in carnal pleasures.”

“But if a man wishes to take a bride, surely he would not see such a woman as a worthy prize?”

Two lines formed between his brows as he studied her. “That all depends. If the fellow needs an heir, then he is unlikely to choose a woman who might be carrying another man’s child. No man wants to be ridiculed by his peers.”

“Then perhaps we should not leave the gossips guessing.” Should Lord Mosgrove be amongst the gaping crowd, he would learn that she was the property of the Earl of Stanton now.

A smile touched his lips. From the wicked glint in his eye, she knew he was eager to tease her. “What are you suggesting, Miss Flint? That I pleasure you in a private box? That you share your bone-shattering release with a thousand spectators?”

Her bone-shattering release?

“Of course not.” She did not have the courage to ask what he meant. “Perhaps if you were to rest your fingers on my shoulder, that would suffice.”

“You want me to touch you?” After the passionate kiss they’d shared, why did he sound so surprised? “But is not the thought of being a man’s mistress abhorrent?”

The thought of being Lord Mosgrove’s wife disturbed her more.

But she was not ready to tell Oliver the truth.

He took the role of protector seriously and would have no qualms confronting Jeremy and the licentious lord. Both men were cowards. They enjoyed playing master to vulnerable women but would buckle beneath the earl’s commanding presence. Even so, Jeremy was a sly devil and would seek revenge.

“I don’t want to be just any man’s mistress. The thought of being your mistress has appeal.” It was not a lie. Being near him made her heart feel light. The intimate moments they’d shared had been the happiest of her entire life.

Why wouldn’t she want to experience more?

Why wouldn’t she want to lose herself in his warm, safe arms?

“Then you must know that I am more than willing to give you everything you desire.” With a light stroke of his fingers, he traced a line down the column of her neck to her shoulder. Nicole shivered. She could feel his penetrating gaze fixed on her face as he retraced the line, this time starting just below her ear. “Ah, your skin is so sensitive to my touch. From your parted lips and glazed eyes, everyone will know that you want me.”

Lord above, she did want him.

Desperately.

“Will they?” She struggled to catch her breath. Whenever he caressed her skin, the heat pooled at the apex of her thighs. But what did that say about her quest to find true love? Was the earl right? Did lust and longing form the basis of all love affairs?

He shuffled in his chair, the movement allowing for more flexibility with his fingers. Indeed, the soft pads trailed over her collarbone, skimmed the upper curve of her breast. She arched her back, anticipating his next move. Her nipples hardened in response, and a pleasurable hum left her lips.